Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

About three hours before the sun rises, Levi pulls on his boots and climbs out of the barrack window.

The air is warm and balmy, even this late, like being trapped under a thick blanket. He shares his room with four other men, and they snore and sweat their way through the short, hot nights while Levi stares at the ceiling and grinds his teeth. There is some respite in fresh air and space.

He isn’t allowed to be out, but nobody will miss him. Unlike the MPs, the Scouts aren’t that concerned with intruders; they have nothing to rob, and why else would you sneak into the headquarters of a regiment that willingly charges into titan territory? Levi wonders idly about deserters. He wonders how far he could get beyond the gates before he was found. 

He assumes his usual spot on the edge of the stable roof. It’s a calm and quiet night. He climbs the guttering and lands lightly on the wooden slats.

His eyes are bleary and his mind is like a storm drain; rushing, swelling, filled with detritus. He takes out his smallest knife and cleans his nails with it, gouging out the tiny reservoirs of grime until they’re pink all the way through. And then he keeps going until his fingertips are bloody.

Rain and mud. Blood and smoke. The crack-crunch of viscera between boulder incisors. Running out of time. Arriving too late. Moving too slowly. Ripping yourself to pieces for a shot at the sky.

We’re counting on you, Levi!

“You shouldn't be out after hours.” A deep voice chides.

The Captain approaches from the gates. His figure is dappled by the moonlight sliding between the tree branches above him. He is leading his horse to the stables. Levi has been so lost in memories he didn’t hear him coming.

Pathetic. You’re asking for an ambush if you’re so easily distracted.

He curls his hand into a fist so the blood doesn’t show.

“You gonna court-martial me?” His voice comes out hoarse, ripping inelegantly through the still air.

“I expected you to be intelligent enough to understand that rest is imperative to maintaining your strength. And therefore your efficacy.”

Yeah, my efficacy to you.

“And your brilliant brain doesn’t need rest too?”

“I’m flattered by your concern.”

“It isn’t concern. I’m calling you a hypocrite.”

The Captain looks...easy. He’s out of uniform, wearing instead a dark suit and formal shirt. His hair is, shockingly, less-than-perfect. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and he’s not wearing a tie. His overcoat is slung across his horse’s saddle. He looks composed, sober, but maybe a little tired. Easy isn't the right word, so Levi choses another; frayed.

“I’ve been in Sina on official business.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t appreciate being questioned by a subordinate.” He says, strangely strained, unusually irate. The Captain never rises to Levi’s bait. He never stoops to his level of disdain. This appears to occur to The Captain a second after it occurs to Levi. He sighs; imperceptible except for the slight dropping of his shoulders.

“Go to bed, Levi.” He says, defeated, and leads his horse into the stables. Levi frowns. He flexes his fingers and the dried blood cracks and flakes.

He slips from the roof silently and peers into the stable. The Captain is lit by a single gas lamp. He untacks his own horse; another unusual sight.

“What business have you had in the city? Another fat nobleman to get drunk with?”

“None of your concern.”

“A personal visit, perhaps? That would explain why you’re so cagey.”

The Captain’s jaw is tight. Levi feels a thrill at the thought of angering him.

“You got a girl over there? A secret family? Or perhaps just a whore? Do you run a gambling ring or something?”

“Levi. Go inside. Now.”

The Captain’s voice is cold. His eyes are cold as well; two icy lakes beneath large, lowered brows. Whatever magic he works on the fifteen-year-old recruits he is ordering to their deaths, it doesn’t work on Levi. He doesn’t scare Levi. Still. This level of unexpected anger is disconcerting.

Whatever. He can do what he likes. It would have been nice to have some ammunition against him, for once.

Levi turns and leaves without a backward glance. He washes his hands free of blood in the bath house and goes back to his bunk. He tries to sleep with the usual tirade of red and green and screaming behind his eyes. He might hear, a while later, the sound of footsteps in the captains’ corridor, the turn of a lock, the shutting of a door, but he thinks he could have imagined it.

000

“The goal is to establish a more permanent outpost, not to persevere further into unchartered territory. There will be no unnecessary risks taken. Our cadet intake has dropped by half since the disaster of last year’s outpost reconnaissance and we cannot afford to lose more soldiers. Therefore, I am clearing Captain Erwin’s long-range formation for standard implementation in all future expeditions.” 

Commander Shadis offers him a cursory glance. Captain Miles pats him on the shoulder. He nods, keeping his expression neutral. To celebrate this victory outwardly would only go further to convince the commander that his ambitions of leadership are for personal glory, and not for the sake of humanity.

“I will be assigning three new soldiers to your squad, Erwin, including Levi. If he goes rogue again, I trust you to be able to handle it.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you.” This is not surprising news. Levi has been tossed from one squad leader to another under any excuse. He doesn’t work well with others. He follows his own instincts instead of the orders of his superiors. He kills with brutal efficiency, and no thought of his team. It was only a matter of time before Erwin would have to take responsibility for his own project. 

“Other than that, it is just a question of equipment. As I’m sure you’re all aware, the materials necessary for establishing a permanent base in titan territory are extensive and expensive. Therefore, your focus is on training and preparation; we need to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. Myself and a few captains will be responsible for acquiring the funds needed for this mission. This could take anywhere from a month to half a year. These are our targets, people: drilling the soldiers so they could ride the formation in their sleep, and squeezing every last penny out of our official sponsors while still retaining respect. Is that clear?”

The table rings with ‘yes, sir’s. Shadis, framed by the window behind him, looks carved from stone.

Or a man already a corpse.

“Dismissed.”

The sound of chairs scraping heralds the end of the meeting. Erwin hangs back subtly, knowing that Shadis will want to speak with him.

“Erwin.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I meant what I said. Every last penny. You understand what an outpost could mean. We could finally put some respect on our name.”

“It will be a challenge, sir, but with proper planning, I believe it to be possible.”

“I ask too much of you already, I know that. There’s Scholtz and Gershin, older than you, more senior than you, but you have something they lack.”

“They resent me for it, sir.”

“They wouldn’t if they understood the extent of it.”

“I agree.”

“Which is why I rely on you. You’re better than anyone at currying favour with the elites. That’s a fact of your character, I suppose. You don’t come across as insane or world-weary as the others. They like you, so they like us.”

It’s meant as a compliment, but Erwin feels it like mortar setting on the lining of his stomach.

“It is an honour to represent the Survey Corps, sir.”

Shadis barks out a laugh, humourlessly, reeking of irony. 

“Of course it is.”

Erwin lets his facade drop a little, shows Shadis his earnest commitment.

“I’ll do what’s necessary, sir.”

“Good.” He nods, the creases around his eyes shallower. “You may go.”

000

It’s the same up here as it was down below: people talk big, and then wither and squirm when it comes to action. Levi is used to the dark, dirty looks, the distrust and isolation. It took longer in the Underground to garner a reputation as someone you should steer clear of: he’s achieved the same thing on the surface in a matter of months.

It helps that he was the only surviving member of his squad on his first expedition, that he had no formal training and still outstripped the deftest of men on the course, that he was hand-picked by The Captain and spared the gallows, and that he has been at best short-tempered and at worst unhinged since the loss of his family.

He doesn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he never had anyone ever again. In fact, that’s what he’s aiming for, despite what he knows of his pathetic, eager heart.

Too soft by half, boy. Why give away your own share to prolong his life by a day or two?

He eats alone, at odd times, if he remembers, to avoid the stares and the talk. He bathes at the crack of dawn or the dead of night so that he can have the bath house to himself. He listens to his bunkmates sleep and finds himself alone even in consciousness. He trains with minimal engagement with others, communicating in short, sharp commands or wordless grunts. People get the message. A few stupid hopefuls try and engage with him, bright-eyed and well-meaning, or sarcastic and goading, and all leave dissatisfied. 

But yes, people get the message. He prefers being alone.

Under-stimulated, sleep-deprived and having not seen any action in a few months, he starts to fidget and his mind starts to wander, desperate for a distraction. Despite his resentment of the social side of soldiering, his fellow Scouts provide the most interesting distraction within the confines of camp. He begins to notice things, intentionally or not.

Like that nutjob, Hange, and the rhythms of their intrigue. He notices how they’ve been given more rein regarding their... research; they’ve got their own quarters and they start carrying around more and more books and paperwork, how they talk at a gallop without stopping for breath to anyone unfortunate enough to wander into their path. They don’t bathe enough. It disgusts Levi. Once when they try to corner him into talking about titans, he lets them know just what he thinks of the state of their personal hygiene. His words are harsh, but they just laugh brightly and thank him for his honesty as he stalks off.

He notices Zacharias’ jealousy, the suspicious twitching of his nose, the way his gaze tumbles down it and pierces the top of Levi’s head, how he doesn’t speak to him unless he needs to, and when he does it is mostly orders. He notices the prideful tilt of his chin, and how his miserable expression gets looser and easier around his friends: around Nanaba and Gelgar and The Captain. Their camaraderie makes Levi sick.

He notices who drinks beer and who sticks to water, who sneaks lovers in at night, who cuts corners and slacks off in training, who is sceptical, who is an idealist, who will get killed before they turn twenty, who resents the leadership, who hates themselves, who is popular and who is unstable. He absorbs this information about his comrades vicariously and unintentionally, his cunning, suspicious mind impossible to turn off. He logs what he picks up as useless information and ignores them otherwise. It’s not like they’ll be around for long. It’s barely even worth remembering their names.

The Captain is different, annoyingly. Levi picks up some things; he is proud, calculating, ambitious, forthright and cold. He is humble enough to avoid arrogance but dignified enough to suggest a status higher than he currently has. He lacks the jaded world view that Levi possesses, but he still seems older than his years. He handles the deaths of dozens of men under his section command with detached efficiency. He doesn’t stammer, doesn’t falter, doesn’t bend. Levi has yet to find a weakness in him.

And that doesn’t sit well. Everyone has a flaw. Sure, The Captain drinks sometimes. He clearly gets something out of seeing his plans come to fruition, something like pleasure, something like pride. Levi saw him laughing with his friends once. But these aren’t true vices. The more he looks, the less he finds. And the less he finds, the more he looks.

He sees him leave at night, sometimes. He sees him leave in the afternoon, alone, with no weapons visible in smart civilian clothes, and he often isn’t in the mess hall by evening. Levi wonders where he goes, before remembering that he doesn’t care. 

One evening, in another attempt to avoid his bed, he cleans a storage room on the east side of the compound. He dusts until his apron is grey and scrubs every surface until his hands burn with the cleaning fluid. It takes hours, and his back aches and his eyes sting. It feels good. His mind is almost blank. He curls in the corner between some barrels of oil and drinks his cup of tea. The exhaustion eventually pulls him under and he snatches a couple of hours of sleep sitting upright in a cocoon of varnished wood. 

He dreams of tearing sinew and the smell of split intestines. It’s the usual horrific clash of senses, like a huge wave of blood and screaming washing over him all at once. In the tangled mess of images, some imagined, some remembered, he feels meat and bones cracking under his own teeth, slipping down his own throat, weighing down his own stomach. 

He starts awake to blackness and sits in the dark storage room, trying to regulate his breathing and pull himself together. He gets unsteadily to his feet and stumbles towards the door. It’s night. The halls are quiet. Without thinking he makes his way to the roof of the stables and perches in his normal spot by the tree, drinking in lungfuls of night air, grounding himself in the present and convincing himself that he isn’t going to vomit. 

He waits on the roof, staring out at the gate until he sees it open silently, and a single figure, leading a horse, enters, making their way towards the stable. Moonlight shines on blonde hair. Levi slides down the drainpipe and slips back into the barracks.

000

Erwin thinks better of putting it off, and instead makes his way down to the training ground to convene with his new squad members as soon as he gets the go-ahead from Shadis. 

The day is mild. Summer has been kind this week; nothing to tank morale like training for seven hours a day in blistering heat. A new recruit sees him coming and salutes him hastily. He’s barely out of childhood, and clearly doesn’t understand that he needn’t salute a captain, but Erwin nods his acknowledgement nevertheless.

They’re drilling restocking, Squad Leader Sells counting down seconds. Samuel, Yenna and Levi: the newest additions to his squad. They are outpacing the others in the training squad with relative ease. Sells jumps to attention on Erwin’s approach.

“Captain. Need something?”

“Yes. I would like to speak with three of your soldiers. You three.” He indicates. Yenna nods and stops what she’s doing immediately. Samuel looks slightly terrified. Levi glares.

Sells nods and goes back to his recruits. Erwin takes the three over to the shade. 

“You have all been moved to my squad. Please report to me for briefings for now on, and come the next expedition, you will be riding in the centre ranks to assist with signal relay. Please introduce yourself to the others this evening at dinner. I hope you see this as an opportunity for career progression, and I am glad to have you on board.”

Yenna’s impassive, hard face twitches in a surprisingly soft smile. Samuel stammers his thanks. Levi continues to glare.

“My squad are in the forest drilling manoeuvres. Finish gearing up and head over there.”

“Yes, sir!” Chorus two voices. They rush off. Levi stays put.

“Are you disappointed, Levi?”

“Is this a punishment?”

“No. It is a promotion.”

“Same thing to me. I don’t want any extra responsibility.”

“Your social skills need some work. My formation only works if communication and trust flow freely between the soldiers it is comprised of. Your carelessness, insubordination and bad attitude are beginning to have an impact on your squad’s efficiency, and I won’t have any more deaths caused by your inability to play nice.”

“So...what? The others hate me so much that they’ve finally just dumped me on you? Are you being punished too?”

“Perhaps, but that’s none of your concern. I’m to keep an eye on you, and to discipline you accordingly should you continue on this suicidal streak of disobeying orders and putting yourself and others in jeopardy.”

“I’m better than them. I’m better than everyone. I’m better than you.”

“That may be, but you cannot take on all of the titans single-handed, and you are too valuable a soldier to be treated casually.”

Levi scowls up at him. He’s a foot shorter than Erwin and yet he doesn’t falter even a fraction under his gaze, like most men his size would. Erwin has a feeling that his usual tactics of persuasion won’t work on this one. He lacks motivation and social graces, but he’s sharp, and perceptive, and not to mention deadly. He’s the perfect weapon, and Erwin found him, Erwin intends to wield him, and so Erwin will have to be the whetstone for his temperament. 

He warms his voice, going for earnestness. “That purpose, Levi, that pushes you to do things I’ve never seen before; I need you to harness it and keep it close. It cannot just appear and disappear when out in the field. It’s innate to you, I’ve seen it. Try to focus that on every little detail. Use it to propel you forward for a greater cause. You’re incredible, of course, but you lack purpose, and your apathy will be your downfall.”

“I’m not apathetic.” Levi snaps, and then immediately looks embarrassed by it. Embarrassment is not an expression Erwin is used to seeing on him. His grey eyes narrow. His small lips purse. He clears his throat quietly.

“Prove it. Care. Revenge, freedom, glory - I don’t care. Use something to stoke your personal fire and you will be unstoppable. And that’s what I expect from my squad.”

He turns to leave. 

“I expect you also to obey me. Speak with the others at dinner. That’s an order.”

“If we’re gonna be wasting all this time learning to trust each other before we all become titan food, why don’t you tell me where you go at night?”

He stops, he glances over his shoulder. He feels a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“That’s out of your jurisdiction. Why should you care about state business when you have no interest in the inner workings of the Corps?”

“Because you’re weird when you get back. Tired. Frayed. You’re like a different person. You’re up to something and I want to know what. I think I have the right now my life’s been dropped so gracelessly into your hands, captain.”

He makes the formal term of address sound like the basest of insults. He stands and scowls in the shade of the trees, turning the sun sour. He draws the shadows out from the branches and wraps them around his small, brutal body. Erwin shakes his head.

“No, Levi. See you at dinner.”

000

He does go to dinner. He’s late and in a foul mood, but he goes. When he arrives, The Captain catches his eye immediately, and visibly relaxes. He’s been waiting for him to show up, or to not show up. Good.

Levi doesn’t like eating with others. He isn’t used to the noise and mess of communal dinners. He doesn’t like people who chew with their mouth open, or talk with their mouth full, or spill their drink on the table, or scrape their cutlery across their plates. He doesn’t like thinking about how many dead men’s lips have touched the rim of his cup, how many unwashed bodies that are no longer breathing crammed onto the bench he sits on. He doesn’t like watching others eat, when he’s been thinking about them getting eaten all day. 

But he goes. He answers questions directed at him bluntly and asks none in return. He doesn’t try to learn their names. He leaves as soon as he is finished and scrubs his hands clean.

He will get used to it. His ability to adapt is something he prides himself on. Routine is good. Order is good, but on his own terms. If the situation changes, change with it, take charge of it, make it your own; that’s what he was taught as a brat. If this new life of his is to stop feeling like a prison and start feeling like something he’s chosen, then he’ll do what he must. And he did choose it. God knows what possessed him to, but he did.

There was...a free fall, like his grapple hook had missed its mark and he was headed straight for the ground. He’d hit it. It had knocked the breath from him as he sank to his knees in the remains of his family. He thought he’d die from it; the shock, the grief, the horror. He wanted to die from it. 

And when The Captain had spoken, he’d been too numb to tune him out. He’d said his noble words, his brave words, but he cut the bullshit. For once, for Levi, he cut the bullshit. It distilled in Levi’s chest. It spread like a forest fire through his veins. It kicked something in his head to life. He watched him through the smoke and the rain, riding off towards the next mission, his foolish, unattainable goal, with his back straight and his face set, and Levi had felt... something. It was a tug, like there was a chord coming from his chest, tied to the back of The Captain’s saddle. He got up. He wiped his face. He followed without thinking. 

And he is still following, he supposes. Because something The Captain said made him stop, made him care, made him feel, for the first time in his life, that perhaps he wasn’t totally helpless. That perhaps he could do something.

It’s a compulsion he resents, and he thinks he still blames The Captain for the death of his family, but he is not naive enough to deny that he respects him. That’s what the feeling is; begrudging respect, and the accompanying annoyance that it came to this, that the man he was paid to kill, the man who represented everything Levi has always resented, won him over to his way of thinking. The Captain spoke of blue skies won through pain and blood, speaking Levi’s language, saying words he didn’t understand like ‘dream’ and ‘freedom’, and it knocked something unsteady in his chest that’s been itching ever since. Maybe he would give his damn heart, for what it’s worth. Maybe he already has. 

Relying on others doesn’t suit him. He goes through the motions with his new squad, repeating orders he’s been given, playing nice, staying in formation, but the monotony frustrates him, and he doesn’t understand how these people he’s tasked with keeping safe, these soldiers with several years of both age and experience on him, could have made it this far with such shitty instincts. It’s something as simple as banking left instead of right to compensate for the opposing force of a swing, or skimming a branch instead of ducking it to keep up momentum, or how the wind whistles differently around a mass as big as a titan. During one session he loses his patience and instead of letting the other three in his formation flail and blunder a moment longer, he takes out the two ‘titans’ set on them single-handedly and drops to the ground with a thud , brushing his blades clean. The other three gape at him with equal parts awe and fury, and Levi shrugs off their discontent. He would have saved their lives if they were beyond the Wall. He won’t apologise for being better.

The Captain is displeased. Levi knew he would be. He looms over Levi on the forest floor, like a damn tree himself. His impassive mask of a face nevertheless has a shadow of anger.

“I saved you three warm bodies, sir.”

“The whole point of training is to train. This was not a life-or-death situation. I needed you to drill the formation you were told and perfect it so that you can deploy it when the need arises in the field.”

“What’s the point of the formation if I can do the job that the other three can’t? It would mean they don’t put themselves in danger unnecessarily.”

“We’re not expecting things to go to plan. The objective is to have these formations down in muscle memory to deploy without thinking. You have three more pairs of eyes, six more blades, and a real titan would be distracted by the diversion of three other bodies.”

“You have no idea how to use me properly.” He doesn’t know where the sentiment came from, but it’s out now. The Captain frowns. His ridiculous eyebrows draw together in the middle. 

“What do you mean?”

“If I’m such an asset, why don’t you use me right? If no one can fight like me, why are you shoving me into old formations that don’t fit my style? Where’s your originality, Smith?”

Yenna chokes on the water she is drinking a short distance behind him. The rest of the team have gone silent.

The Captain is particular about Levi obeying orders. When he is dismissive or insubordinate, he is punished. Usually this involves cleaning something he’d rather not; like the latrines or the stables. The previous week Levi got into a fight with another recruit and refused to apologise, and so The Captain had dragged him hissing and spitting into his office, talked his ear off in the measured, booming tone Levi was growing used to, and then thrown him out without so much as an extra hour of stamina training. Levi thought he’d gotten off lightly, until the tea that he drank mysteriously disappeared from the kitchens. Three days of quiet, seething humility later, and the tea was returned. The Captain was a master of war of attrition.

Now, however, he doesn’t move to scold. Instead, he tilts his body back, away from Levi, and examines him head to toe. Levi wants to snap again, but he bites his tongue.

“You’re right. Meet me in my room this evening. We’ll play it your way.”

000

The Captain’s room is dusty but tidy. It’s West-facing so the windows catch the sunset, panes blazing, spilling gold and orange across the floor. Levi itches to clean it thoroughly. Captains get private quarters but no office, and so The Captain does all of his work at the desk in the back corner, bracketed by bookshelves. There’s a washbasin and a wardrobe. His winter coat hangs on the back of the door. There is a framed family photo on one of the shelves and an empty vase tucked in the corner of the windowsill. The Captain has made his bed. Levi glances at it and then looks quickly away.

He sits at his desk, out of the ODM harness and jacket, but otherwise still in uniform. He has rolled up his sleeves. The fading light catches on the hollow of his jugular and Levi thinks about killing him before remembering that he doesn’t want to anymore. He greets Levi curtly and nods towards the spare chair. Levi takes it and sits on the other side of the desk, arms crossed, legs crossed.

“Explain to me what your instinctual course of action would be in this scenario.” The Captain begins. It is...unusual being alone with him. The low timbre of his voice seems bigger and deeper in the quiet room. Levi bristles.

He glances at the diagram The Captain pushes towards him. The web of lines depict aerial movement and there are crude drawings of titans labelled with their height class. Levi blinks.

“Approach from above. The big one will be slow-moving, and so when it swipes there will be enough of an opening to move around his arm. Using the flesh as a pathway rather than a single grappling point means you’re less likely to lose your grip, or get swatted like a fly. After getting the nape, gravity will do the rest - the other will be in prime position.”

“And what if the smaller has moved?”

“Use the bulk of the big guy as he’s going down to assess. It should be a clear shot. The main issue would be getting your wires tangled.”

The Captain nods. He draws some lines that mean nothing to Levi along the original pathways. He overlays the paper with another diagram; more titans, fewer trees.

“How would you do this on your own?”

“I’d hook round the back of the shoulder of this one -”

“The five-meter would take you out.”

“Not if I was quick enough.”

“This is a bird’s eye view. From the front you wouldn’t notice it if you were alone.”

“I would.”

“Can you be certain of that?”

“Yes.”

“Well I cannot. And if there’s a chance you missed it, it would interrupt your swing and you’d head straight towards it. Even if you managed to evade, it would buy the ten-meter enough time to turn around.”

The Captain speaks like Levi is a child, like he’s holding back the ‘do you understand?' that sits on the tip of his tongue. It’s patronising. 

“Theoretically, sure. You love your theories but I think I’ve proven myself in the field. I’d notice. I’d get them all.”

“You have no plan to fall back on, no extra pair of hands to assist should one of them grab you out of the air.”

“No distractions.”

“Your arrogance could cost you your life.”

“I prefer to see it as self-belief sparing the lives of others who wouldn’t need to be there.”

The Captain gives him a long look. His expression is hard but his eyes are calm as ever. Levi is struck by the sudden and strange desire to make him angry, to make him shout. Maybe he’d finally dismiss Levi for disrespecting a superior officer. Maybe he’d lunge across the desk and fist his hands in Levi’s collar.

He doesn’t. He stays perfectly steady. Levi blinks back; apathetic, loose-limbed.

“You lack discipline.”

“You lack imagination.”

“There are no solo scouting missions. The cost of your attitude will be the lives of your comrades.”

“Then it’s your job to make sure they don’t get in my way.”

“This determination to achieve a state of complete self-sufficiency is very transparent, Levi. You’ve lost so much, you think you can avoid the same agony again by gaining nothing new.”

Levi bristles once more. The Captain’s scrutiny is unwelcome. It’s like insects burying under the surface of his skin, eating away at his flesh, laying their eggs there. 

“You don’t know shit about me. I’m not kissing the ass of every other soldier I meet because they’re incompetent. They’re dead weight. Their expectations and vulnerability will hold me back. That’s all. I thought you were supposed to be the brains of this place, and you couldn’t even figure that out about me.”

“There’s nowhere left to run, Levi.”

Levi flashes his teeth in a snarl, but before he can ask The Captain what the fuck he means by that, there is a loud knock at the door.

“Come in.” The Captain says, without tearing his eyes away from Levi’s.

A woman comes in with a note from Shadis. She hands it to The Captain and he thanks her. As she leaves, she gives Levi a fairly wide berth.

The Captain opens the note. Quick eyes skim-read what is written upon it. Levi’s watching him so intently that he catches the change, small as it is; an almost imperceptible sigh, the slight lowering of his eyelids, the faint line appearing on his brow. 

“We’ll talk about this later, Levi. Dismissed.” He says, without looking at him, slipping the note into his pocket and standing up.

Levi kicks away from the desk and leaves the chair in the middle of the room as he leaves.

000

Erwin usually walks the last stretch; the dirt track up to the gates of the compound. The ground is damp and spongy underfoot and the moon slips in and out of cloud cover. He’s tired. He cannot afford to get tired, but his body cares not for his brain’s ambition. There is a twinge in his neck where he has pulled a muscle. He flexes his fingers around the reins of his mare.

The soldier stationed at the gate slips the lock past the latch and pushes it gently to let him pass. 

The soft, worn silk of the back of his mind draws near and then billows away. He’s tender like a bruise, primed for probing despite the discomfort. He straightens his spine and wills the memories away, casts his reservations and doubt and regret behind the curtain. It will be iron once more in the morning.

Through the silver slices of inconsistent moonlight, he catches a flash of movement above the stables, but Levi is quick and agile, and gone before Erwin can think what he wants to say to him.

Chapter Text

Two weeks pass. Levi eventually learns his squadmates’ names. He eats alone when he can get away with it and still shirks his bunk, but he shows Samuel his reverse grip and defers to one of the others for a practice kill instead of taking it for himself. Small concessions spell small victories for The Captain, and he makes small allowances in return. He moves Levi to the front right of the squad’s formation, and scratches his directional suggestions onto his diagrams.

It’s boredom-turned-peace. Or peace-turned-boredom. Better than more death, I suppose.

He catches Shadis berating The Captain one afternoon. Levi’s out of earshot, snatching some peace in the corner of the courtyard, eating an apple and looking up at the rainclouds. It is difficult, ridiculous even, to attempt to talk down to someone like The Captain, and Shadis doesn’t seem completely comfortable with it despite his position. Levi catches something about an unfair promotion, which The Captain denies, and Shadis accuses him of gambling with soldiers’ lives, which Levi believes. It isn’t until Shadis claims that a ‘thug from the Underground’ has no right to be informed of important battle strategy that Levi realises they are talking about him. 

It did surprise him that The Captain trusted him with the plans. It surprises him that The Captain trusts him at all; he has spent the last four months expressing his dislike of the Corps and what it stands for, despite the fact that he is here voluntarily. Perhaps it’s arrogance; The Captain doesn’t see Levi as enough of a threat to be suspicious of him.

Even this thought isn’t enough to turn the tide. It takes energy to resist the easiest route, energy he doesn’t want to waste on human politics, and so he slips into line like a cog in a clock. The Captain was willing to listen to him, so he supposes he has to be willing to listen to The Captain.

And he isn’t stupid. Naive, perhaps, idealistic definitely - but not stupid. He’s the only person to have out-maneuvered Levi, and the hangover of that is respect. 

The Captain implements Levi’s changes into his squad’s formation. The knowledge that he’s tailoring his tried and tested strategy because Levi kicked up a fuss brings Levi more embarrassment than pride; he feels less like he’s provided The Captain with some new insight and more like he’s a difficult child who must be accommodated. 

Can’t fucking win.

The Captain doesn’t mention it; doesn’t draw it out of him and hold it up as an example of what being part of a team means. Instead, he continues on with his orders and his paperwork, his mysterious meetings at night and his curt, professional camaraderie. However now he asks for Levi’s opinion, a little at first, and then at the end of every training session. It becomes semi-common for Levi to spend an evening discussing tactics with The Captain in his room, the unscrubbed floor and sun-bleached curtains becoming increasingly familiar. The sight of the place where The Captain sleeps no longer seems alien and uncanny.

The extra responsibility feels like a privilege. Levi has spent his life keeping his skills and strategy close to his chest for fear of rivals using it against him, and so it takes a while to come round to the idea that it would benefit him and others to share his thoughts. He feels less trapped and more primed, less like a hostage and more like the asset The Captain swears he is. As a reward, Levi tries harder with his fellow soldiers.

He dislikes Hange less than he dislikes the others. They’re too loud, too messy, too unclean, and yet there is an honesty in them that Levi finds himself appreciating. When they piss him off or get too close, he snaps at them to go away, and they always do, without holding it against him, and then they’re back tomorrow with more of their noise and grinning. There’s something in their curiosity, their vibrancy, their openness and friendliness that reminds him of Isabel. When they raid the latest supply cart for equipment, they smuggle away the soap that Levi likes and give it to him at dinner so he has a private stash that others can’t use. After that, he resolves to be kinder to them.

So he learns their names: Keiji, Lauda, Yenna, Margot, Samuel, Forris. He stops calling them stupid. He stops rising to bait from other officers and he stops daydreaming about slitting their throats and vaulting over the wall of the compound. He starts paying attention, starts giving them help when they ask for it, starts picturing their broken bodies scattered on red, sticky grass, whether he wants to or not, and starts dreading the day when it happens. 

He stops snapping at The Captain, but he doesn’t stop picking fights with him. Levi’s ability to rile people up seems to stop at him, and he unthinkingly rises to the challenge. The Captain’s irritation is a mere furrow of his brows, a displeased twitch of his lips, a sharper edge to his demands. Levi wonders what he’d look like if he lost it. He wonders if he has it in him to strike Levi, to shout at him, to tell him what he really thinks about his background; that he’s a stunted, foul-tempered, son of a whore from the slums who has no right to question the judgement of one so obviously born to lead.

He doesn’t stop crouching on the stable roof at night, waiting for his silhouette to appear through the gate, leading his horse, fatigue in the usually straight lines of his figure. Somewhere along the line, these nighttime excursions of Levi’s stopped being about avoiding the cramped coffin of his bunk and started being about spying on The Captain.

000

The money is coming in, but not fast enough. To keep the rollover of results, of something achieved, Shadis sanctions a scaled-back surveillance mission. Two squads will leave with the task of confirming the safest supply route for the main outpost mission. 

It’s the first time Levi has been beyond the Wall since he lost Isabel and Farlan. It’s his first time in The Captain’s squad. Maria towers above him, smothers him for a few seconds, and then falls immediately away, surrendering to the endless stretch of pale, empty sky. Levi takes it in, holds it in his lungs, watches birds soar overhead and thinks of his family, of their sacrifice and their smiles. He lets the breath out and follows the green flash of The Captain’s cloak ahead of him.

It’s around two hours before they encounter their first titan. It’s slow and small and The Captain barks out Levi’s name and he’s off, arching over its hollow head, slicing through the revolting meat of its nape. He’s back on his horse and at The Captain’s side again in a matter of minutes. 

It’s the job of Levi and Keiji to engage first with titans as The Captain focuses on mentally plotting the land they travel through. After another half an hour, they get caught up with Mike’s squad in trouble. Three titans swat their huge hands around their heads as the other team engages. The ten-meter plucks a young man out of the air and bites him in two.

“Onward!” The Captain orders. Levi’s fingers itch against the trigger of his gear.

“Their formation is broken. They need help.” Levi shouts back. The Captain shoots him a silencing glare. Another scream echoes from the chaos. Levi sees a small rainfall of blood.

“Captain!” He tries again. The Captain looks forward, grits his teeth, sends Levi the most hateful glare he has ever turned on him, and concedes.

“Fall into position. Engage the enemy and relieve our comrades!” He wheels his mare round and changes their course.

Two of Mike’s team are dead. Yenna is already helping to assemble the body parts by the time the steam clears and Levi drops from the shoulders of the last titan. The thud of it toppling causes his horse to startle. 

“Thank you, Erwin.” Says Mike, face bloody with only some of it evaporating. 

The Captain nods. “Thank Levi, not me.”

Mike turns to him. Levi freezes.

“Thank you, Levi.” He says. It is the first time he has said anything to Levi that wasn’t dripping with disdain. Levi remembers the bruising pressure of his fingers on the back of his head, shoving his face into the dirt. 

“Mn.” He says and jumps back on his horse.

They reach the edge of a forest, and stop to let The Captain make notes. Mike’s team look rattled. Margot offers him a flask of water with a quiet smile. The Captain declares the mission complete and they make for the Wall once more. 

The way back is less quiet. An abnormal takes them by surprise in the ruins of a building; some ancient artefact of a time before, a time when you could live outside the confines of Maria. It lunges for Forris and Levi springs into action without thinking, slicing through the thick juncture of Forris’ hip until he falls free.The beast swallows the leg and Levi, before its face, skewers both its eyes in one go. 

The creature flails, narrowly missing Levi’s wire, and he spins around its back, his gaze red with fury, and kills it. Samuel drags Forris onto his horse, its flank already crimson with his blood. If they don’t get back soon he’ll bleed out, Levi knows. 

A small, quieter titan comes from the South as The Captain rallies them back into formation. He is in its line of sight, at the front of the squad, and it grabs at him. He has grappled off his horse and out of the way with inches to spare. Levi doesn’t think. He’s off his own mount and flying round its head in seconds, slashing through its wrist where it goes to grab The Captain again, carving through its ankle tendons until it drops to its knees. He’s so blind with instinct, so deaf with the blood pounding in his ears, that he barely notices The Captain finish it off.

“Back in formation, now !” The Captain calls, and they make a beeline for the gate, just visible in the Wall as it gets closer.

Another abnormal takes off after them, faster than it should be on its stumpy legs, its tongue lolling out like a huge, slimy saddle cloth. It begins to close the distance with its blank-eyed persistence. 

Samuel is falling behind. His horse, as swift as the others normally, is burdened with the extra weight of half-conscious, one-legged Forris. He’s too weak to ride his own horse. The gap between them and the rest of the squad lengthens. The Captain notices, sets his expression, and presses onwards.

Levi shouts over the thudding of footsteps and the whistling of the wind.

“Give him to me! I’m lighter.”

“Don’t break formation, Levi!” The Captain shouts back to them.

“I can’t get closer!” Samuel replies, terrified.

Levi can fix this. Levi can spare them the sight of more blood, more death, more loss. He doesn’t care what The Captain says, he slows his horse down a fraction and waits for Samuel’s to catch up.

He doesn’t get much further than a few meters back before, by complete chance, he looks back at the right time to see Forris crack open a bleary green eye. The wounded man is pale with the blood draining out of him. He manages a weak smile, and a nod at Levi that seems huge and important despite the jostling of the horse and the pounding of the titan. Then he releases Samuel and the saddle and allows himself to tumble off the back of the horse.

“NO!” Samuel screams. The titan skids to a stop and scoops Forris up. It buys them enough time for Samuel to slip out from under him and catch up with the squad. Levi watches the huge, hideous jaws snap shut on his comrade. His brave comrade, who has saved Samuel’s life. When he faces forward again, The Captain still has his eyes on the gate. 

They’re shaking and shattered when they return to HQ. Samuel vomits once he gets off his horse, probably at the sight of drying blood in its fur. The older squad, who knew Forris for longer, retreat, weary and numb, to their barracks. 

Levi takes his horse’s tack off and feeds her an apple. The Captain hovers by the door.

“You broke formation.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised.”

“I thought you’d begun to understand. I am disappointed that I was wrong.”

“Understand what? To blindly obey without using my damn head? If I hadn’t broken formation you’d be dead.”

The Captain shrugs, he leans one shoulder against the stable doorway nonchalantly. “Perhaps.”

“And that wouldn’t bother you?”

“I have grown accustomed to the concept of my own death. That’s no excuse for putting the lives of others in danger. The greater need is always with the many, and never with individuals.”

Levi gives him a long, hard, incredulous look. 

“You think you are expendable?”

“I am.”

Levi snorts, rubbing his mare along the soft, fuzzy skin of her nose. “Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. Best bet is you’ll be commander in a year or so.”

“Not if I’m dead I won’t.”

“Then the Scouts will be significantly worse off.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. I meant it as a threat. You’re good at what you do. Your ideas save lives, despite how much I resent being sworn to them. If you died, that would not be putting the needs of the many above the needs of the individual.”

“I didn’t think you cared about the many.”

“Then you don’t pay attention. I hate waste. I don’t want anyone innocent to die if they don’t have to.”

“You are perhaps comparable to me, then. Your skill will save dozens, if not hundreds, by my estimate. You almost went back for Forris, putting yourself in unnecessary danger, and by proxy dooming the future of the Scouts. Was he important to humanity’s plight?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, it isn’t. It never is, so we stick to the baseline. That’s why we have formations in the first place; to carry on when the situation goes sour.”

“So in the future you want me to let you die?”

“If it is necessary, yes.”

He looks at him. He looks at ease, good-natured almost, despite the fact that he is scolding Levi. His clever eyes latch onto Levi’s, his arms crossed against his broad chest. He means it, too. It isn’t just empty bravery, empty words, empty ideals. The Captain would be willing to sacrifice everything. For the first time, Levi contemplates The Captain’s death in a way that doesn’t bring him satisfaction. Erwin Smith, crushed in the jaws of a titan? Messy, painful, inconsequential, commonplace for their regiment? No. That isn’t how this goes. Not if Levi’s around. The idea of something paring his flesh, carving him up, slicing through his skin, be it blade or tooth, is ridiculous. Levi can’t even imagine it. 

I won’t let you die that easily, Smith.

He doesn’t need to imagine it. There’s a scar running along the diagonal of The Captain’s right palm that Levi put there using a blade. He drew his blood. 

But others couldn’t. They couldn’t even get close. He’s too damn clever for that. 

“What good is a leader who isn’t afraid to die? What are you fighting for that’s more important than your life?” Levi brushes his mare’s forelock instead of looking at The Captain as he asks the most personal questions he has ever asked him. 

“A distant dream.” The Captain says with humour. He’s amused himself. 

“You spout such shit, Captain.”

The Captain laughs. “I suppose it must sound like that.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what plans you have for the afterlife. I’m not letting you get off that easily. So if you’re asking me to let you die on a day like today with nothing to gain, I’ll have to decline.”

The Captain considers Levi. Levi realises that this is the first time where the atmosphere between them has felt...friendly. 

“You did well, regardless. You are a marvel.” He tosses the compliment to Levi like a rag. Like it’s nothing. Like it costs nothing to say. Levi doesn’t know what to do with it, so he’s glad when The Captain pushes off the mantle and leaves. 

000

Trust comes slowly. Levi grants The Captain his authority, but challenges it when he thinks he’s being naive. They clear out Forris’ bunk. They are less talkative in training, less carefree, and usually Levi would be glad of the peace and quiet, but the pressure of mourning presses on him too. He didn’t even really know the guy. He resents that Kenny was right about his soft heart. 

The Captain watches them at dinner one evening. Hange bounces over to sit next to Levi and talks about limb regeneration for ten minutes straight while he tries to finish his meal as quickly as possible so he can leave. He catches The Captain’s gaze; thoughtful, but not troubled. Levi looks away, but peers back at him over Yenna’s shoulder. The Captain reads a piece of paper when he thinks no one is looking, and tucks it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He clears his plate away and leaves.

Levi doesn’t even try to sleep that night. He sits on his bunk, fully-dressed and waits until the moon is high. The weather’s still mild. He forgoes his jacket and climbs out of the window.

He sits with his horse for a while. He doesn’t enjoy the stables; the smell and the dirt and the insects, but he finds the horses silent, pleasing company. He tugs on his mare’s mane and lets her lick his hand, dipping it in the water butt to clean it afterwards. 

Then he sits on the roof and waits. The stars prickle through the thin clouds and he thinks of his mother; of the red spots of blush she’d get on each cheek when she laughed, of how he’d know when she was crying even if she tried to hide it, of how she’d stroke his cheek and sing him songs in her cracked voice, of how she’d be bruised and bleeding and still try to smile. He can still remember her face, but he knows it will fade. He doesn’t want to forget. 

The Captain returns eventually, leading his horse as always. His eyes flick up to Levi immediately, as if he’d been expecting him. Levi stands, looking down at The Captain for once.

“How many times, Levi?”

“Another late night stroll? They pay you to tire yourself out, or something?”

“Business.”

“Yeah, yeah, in Sina, no doubt. You gonna tell me what it is?”

“Funding drives. Negotiations. Meetings with nobles. It’s all very dull, I’m afraid.”

“It’s almost dawn. Unusual hours for nobility to keep. Not a lot of legitimate stuff goes on at night, captain.”

“Draw whatever conclusions you like. You’ll be inducted into the tactics of our regiment’s negotiations when you’re promoted.”

“Tch.” Levi scoffs. “I’m never getting promoted. I don’t work well with others, remember?”

“You didn’t work well with others.” The Captain corrects. Levi scowls at him.

“Since I’ve made such a huge improvement, why don’t you prove that you trust me now?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“How does it work?”

“You use your blades and your gas to kill titans. You keep yourself strong and healthy with food and rest, clothed with your uniform, supported with your wage. You perfect your ability to help humanity with what we provide for you. Don’t worry about where it came from. That’s none of your concern.”

“I suppose we should just accept what we’re given at face value then? Who gives a shit where the titans came from, what their purpose is, what they’re grown from, right? Just accept it like a good little soldier and stop asking questions. I’ll tell Hange they’re wasting their time.”

He’s touched a nerve, he can sense it. The Captain’s mind is too curious for that logic to fit. He takes his horse inside and Levi drops down behind him.

“Why do you want to know, Levi? I told you it is nothing to concern yourself about; just business.”

“You’re full of shit. You’re hiding something. Maybe the others could be fooled but you know where I came from, what I am. You think it’s easy to lie to me?”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“You’re obscuring the truth.”

“I thought you don’t care.”

“I didn’t care.” He throws The Captain’s own words back at him with spite. He looks powerful and haunting in the fractured light of the stables. Heavy shadows are thrown into the hollows of his cheeks, under his strong brow, the outcrop of his square jaw. 

“If I’m gonna trust you, if I’m gonna risk my life for a cause that you gave me, I need to know what’s backing it. Maybe I am just curious, maybe it is none of my business, but the more you deny me answers, the more questions I’m gonna ask.”

“Your tenacity is admirable.” Says The Captain, sounding like he feels the exact opposite. 

“Yours is infuriating.” Levi says. 

The Captain shuts the door of the stall and pauses for a moment. Then he turns to Levi fixing him with his gaze, striding towards him with slow, strange purpose. 

He stops a few inches from Levi. He has to crane his head up to look at his face. Half of it is in shadow, like it’s been torn away. He smells different. He usually smells clean; like leather and shaving cream, but he smells different now; vaguely of flowers, of sugar. Perfume?

“What price would you pay for your freedom, Levi?”

Again with his lofty ideals, dangling his words over a ledge, taunting Levi below.

“Good question. Seems like the price of my freedom was having to follow orders.”

“True freedom is within our grasp. Until we secure it, until we know the truth, everything else is a lie. It’s a way of pacifying us, keeping us complacent and docile. Do you think the price of freedom is slavery?”

“I don’t know. Everything has a price, right? The greater the reward, the higher the cost.”

“Yes. Exactly. Your autonomy, your life, your humanity - where do we draw the line?”

“Why are you asking this?”

“Because it is important to me to know how you would answer.”

“I don’t know, ok?!” He growls. He doesn’t like being made to feel stupid. “Don’t condescend to me. I don’t know the price of freedom because I haven’t got it yet. If something costs you your humanity then it had better be worth it. Is it worth it, Erwin?”

Something flashes in his eyes. His mouth twists in the beginnings of a wry smile. Levi looks at it. He realises that he just used his first name.

“We shall see.”

How can he expect answers if he never gives one himself? I’m not here to trade poetry with you, bastard.

Levi fantasises about throwing his fist out, breaking Erwin’s nose, watching the shock and the blood flow.

Instead, he says “If you get yourself into trouble, you’re on your own then.”

“I know.” Erwin says. 

“For someone so smart you’re awfully lax with your own safety.”

“Our job is dangerous. I don’t let that hold me back.”

Erwin heads for the barracks and Levi walks with him, tilting his head up to look at the stars again. When they’re inside, Erwin speaks again, hushed in the couched quiet of the domestic quarters.

“You can stop spying on me, Levi. It won’t do you any good.”

“I’m not spying on you. I like the fresh air. It helps me think.”

“Alright. You still shouldn’t flout the rules so much, or Shadis might use it as an excuse not to promote you.”

“Good.” Says Levi, heading for his own room. He catches a glimpse of Erwin down the corridor, slipping through his own door. His posture is slacker, his shoulders slightly slumped like he’s carrying something. It brings a brief and brutal flash of Levi’s mother to the front of his mind, stooped in a shadowed doorway. As soon as it arrives, it is gone, and Levi wonders why it was there in the first place.

000

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Hange observes, at Erwin’s side, watching Levi fly. It’s the only time the tension in his compact, powerful body loosens and he moves with effortless elegance, like a water bird, like a dancer. Watching him take to the air is like watching a scroll unfurl, like a coil of rope unwind. Erwin wonders if Levi will ever be as relaxed and graceful on the ground as he becomes in the air.

“Yes, he is.” He replies, following his twists and banks. 

“Almost too good…” They wonder aloud. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. All that; and self-taught? He was better than everyone when he arrived, better than you and even Mike, with no training. Not to mention his strength and stamina - very unlikely for someone who’s spent most of their life malnourished.”

“You suspect his skill has a source?”

“Innate ability is one thing, but against all odds? And to this extent? It’s worth considering, no?” They have that menacing, glassy look in their eyes that precedes an outpouring of hypotheses. Erwin sighs silently, steels himself.

“We don’t know anything about his upbringing or family, right? If it is innate, it might be something to do with his blood, or his heritage. I wonder if it’s something observable -”

“Hange, I forbid you from cutting up our best soldier.” He says casually, distracted by said soldier running vertically down the trunk of a tree in order to loop around it. 

“Oh, no no! I wouldn’t dream of it! What a waste that would be. Besides, Levi and I are friends!”

“You are?”

“Of course! He offered to clean my room the other day. He’s a real softie underneath it all.”

Erwin thinks it is likely that Levi made such an offer because he couldn’t get any peace of mind knowing that Hange’s room sat in the same building as him; chaotic and revolting. Erwin has noticed how Levi’s eyeline follows the layer of dust atop certain surfaces in Erwin’s own room, which he thought he kept pretty tidy. It is another quirk of the man that he’s yet to fully figure out.

“Does he speak to you often?”

“I usually have to approach him, but he seemed interested in my theories on titan instincts! And he’s stopped telling me to piss off when I sit with him at dinner!”

“Quite the achievement.” Says Erwin. 

“He likes you too, right? You look like quite the pair, walking side-by-side. He looks like your son. Your angry, foul-mouthed, violent son.”

Erwin laughs a little at that. Levi could fell ten titans in a single attack but if Erwin was so inclined, he could throw him over his shoulder and carry him like a child and Levi would be pretty powerless to stop him.

“I wonder how old he is…” Erwin thinks aloud. Hange pushes their glasses up their nose.

“Good question! Have you asked him?”

“No. I imagine he doesn’t know himself.”

“He’s older than he looks. He remembers the Sina grain shortage; that was twenty years ago. He can’t be much younger than us.”

“He seems older, somehow.”

“Yeah, like he’s lived more, seen more, done more, even if our ages are the same.”

Why had he never thought to ask his age? Erwin is good enough at reading people to predict what would and wouldn’t be welcome, and Levi is the definition of reticent, but surely asking his age wasn’t crossing a line? 

“He doesn’t even have a surname.” Erwin says, the thought rising to the surface like a bubble.

“Everyone has a surname. He just doesn’t know it. Maybe he doesn’t know who his father is? Maybe he was orphaned too young to know his family.” Hange theories. They both watch Levi land lightly on the ground, his grapples zipping back into his gear, his spine straightening as the tension returns to his figure. He tosses his head; his dark hair has fallen into his eyes. His signature scowl, so at home on his face, is softer when he’s focused on something other than Erwin. Its absence makes his features look more delicate. 

The following day sees most of the men head into town for the market. Erwin has a stack of documents to get through, courtesy of Shadis’ decision to write his long range scouting formation into official documentation. It seems his reward for reducing expedition casualties is more paperwork. 

At the bottom of the pile is a letter addressed to him. Its seal bears the knotted snake of the Ashburn family. He snaps the wax and reads what is written in elegant, sloping letters.

Thank you for your time, Captain. As a token of my appreciation, find enclosed a detail of equipment sent to the Survey Corps on behalf of my husband and I. We are glad to support such a noble cause, with such noble leadership.

I hope to see you again. Sooner rather than later.

Harriet

The list accounts for six supply carts, a fresh stock of one hundred newly-forged ODM blades and three wagon’s worth of horse feed. The money they save on this equipment will be a substantial amount, all towards their outpost reconnaissance mission. Erwin feels something slip and hum in his chest; relief, perhaps?

The end justifies the means. He knows that. He lives by it.

He’s glad to find the bath house deserted as he takes himself for a long, thorough wash. With most men enjoying their day off, he has plenty of time alone and lots of hot water.

The steady stream of soldiers through the gates begins at three o’clock and continues on until dinner. From his window he watches them pass through the courtyard and head towards the mess hall. At around seven, he sees Levi, alone, carrying a small box and heading for his room. Erwin signs the last letter and decides to intercept him. 

Levi’s room is a six-bunk dorm. Only four of the beds are occupied. Levi’s alone in the quiet hush of a bedroom in the afternoon, kneeling by the drawer beneath his bed, packing his little box away in the corner.

“Levi.” He says.

“What do you want?” Levi asks without looking at him. His bed is noticeably neater than the others. It is properly made, with the sheets tucked under the smooth pillow. Erwin imagines that he doesn’t spend much time in it. His nightstand is bare. Everything is clean.

“Do you not know your surname, or are you hiding it?” 

“What good would hiding it do? Joining the Scouts wouldn’t put my family in more danger than they would already be down there. I don't have one. I told you that.”

“Are you an orphan?”

Levi blows a lock of hair away from his face and rolls his eyes, raising a thin brow at Erwin. 

“What do you think?” 

“It’s likely.”

“You really are sharp, Smith.”

“So you don’t know your father’s name?”

“I don’t know my father.”

“And your mother?”

“Is this professional interest, captain, or are you just poking your big nose in where it doesn’t belong?”

“I apologise. I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, no shit. I bet you were one annoying brat when you were younger, always asking these stupid questions.”

Erwin laughs despite himself. Levi’s eloquence seems tailored exclusively towards insults and vulgarity. There is a charm to it, an honesty that Erwin, with his formal politeness, envies and even admires. Levi looks startled at his reaction.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you. Not at your expense, anyway. You’re funny. What you just said was funny.”

“Huh.” He says, pushing his drawer in and standing up, brushing at his knees.

“You’re quite right. I was probably very irritating.”

“You still are.”

He laughs again, lightly, without thinking. Levi’s lips twitch in what might almost be the start of a smile.

“Such insubordination. I should have you punished.”

“Go on, then.”

“Answer my questions instead.”

“Questions about what?”

“You, mostly.”

“Doesn't sound all that appealing.”

“If you don’t want to speak with me, I can always set Hange loose on you and get answers that way?”

Levi shudders. “No thanks.”

“We have a deal, then?”

“You’re fucking weird. Seems like you only really care that I kill titans well. Why bother with this stuff?”

“How old are you?” Erwin asks. Levi crosses his arms and leans back against the windowsill. He surveys Erwin through slate grey eyes like a gambler trying to figure out if his opponent is bluffing.

“I don’t know.”

“Estimate?”

His jaw juts out a little as he grinds his teeth together. He looks physically uncomfortable with Erwin’s attention, but he answers nevertheless.

“I guess around twenty-seven. Could be twenty-five. Could be thirty. I’m going off kids I knew in the Underground and how old they said they were. I suppose I’ll never know for certain.”

“Who raised you?”

“Dogs.”

Erwin narrows his eyes. Levi holds his stare for several seconds before breaking away.

“I’m messing with you. It’s not a bad description of my childhood, though. I was with my mum until she died and then some guy she knew took me in for a while. He left when I was around ten, I guess. Then I was left to fend for myself.”

“Your childhood was inconsistent.”

“It was consistently shit.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“No you’re not. Don’t give me that.”

“Very well. How long were you with Isabel and Farlan?”

At the sound of their names, Levi flinches. Erwin wonders if he has pushed too far. Eventually, Levi forces out a response.

“I had been with Farlan since I was a teenager. We ran in the same group, then split off when he was twenty to do our own thing. Isabel was with us for a year before you arrived.”

“Only a year?”

“She was just a kid.”

Erwin nods, looks down at the wooden slats of the floor, decides that offering a condolence would ring false in Levi’s ears. Even though Erwin is sorry, will always be sorry, not just for the loss of innocent life under his command, but for causing Levi such suffering, for taking what little he had from him.

“How did your mother die?”

Levi’s face darkens. Sour from the memory of his friends, he is understandably touchy.

“Where do you go at night?”

“To Sina. Do you remember your mother?”

“Of course I fucking remember her. What do you do in Sina?”

“I garner favour and raise funds for Scout expeditions. What was your mother’s name? What did she do?”

“It doesn’t matter what her name was. It doesn’t matter what she did. She’s dead. How do you raise funds?”

“It doesn’t matter how.”

“Why do you give a shit about my mother?”

“I told you: I’m curious.”

“About my mother?!”

“About you. You intrigue me, Levi. I want to start at the beginning.”

“Now you sound like Hange. I’m not your pet project.”

“I’m aware.”

“So the scrutiny is weird.”

“I was under the impression that we were beginning to get along. Would you like me to leave you alone?”

That pulls him up short. His eyes widen a little. He glances down at his boot.

“Tch. Doesn’t matter what I want, you wouldn’t stop.”

“No one likes to feel their attention is unwelcome.”

“Is that what I’ve got, then? Your attention?” Levi says it with a low cockiness that belies his earlier insecurity. He pushes himself off the windowsill and saunters over to Erwin. Erwin doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break eye contact, watches him draw closer until he can see the top of his head. 

“Yes.” Erwin says lightly. He won’t balk under Levi’s scrutiny, despite its intensity, despite his inexplicable interest in this neat, surly, terrifying man who came to him from the bowels of the earth.

“I don’t know what to do with it.” He says rudely, like he’s been given an uninspiring gift.

Levi is slippery. Erwin cannot get a grip on his character. He swings wildly between passion and apathy, confidence and self-loathing, rudeness and respect, slamming gracelessly through every perception Erwin forms before it can solidify. He’d like to prise him open and see how he works, but less literally than Hange. If he is honest with himself, he would like Levi to offer this to him willingly. He has been blessed with his trust; would friendship be too much to ask? He is suddenly possessed with the urge to reach out and touch him - the sharp point of his chin, his rounded, youthful cheeks, his small, cruel mouth. The shape and shade of him is fascinating to Erwin. 

He won’t. He is well versed in self-discipline. 

“Use it wisely,” he settles for, “We shall be much better allies than enemies, Levi.”

Levi's lips twist. His nose scrunches up in disgust. It is what reluctant agreement looks like on him. 

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t expect me to kiss your ass or anything. You get the respect you earn.” 

“I’d expect nothing less.” 

Levi stares like he’s looking through Erwin’s eyes and trying to read his secrets written on the inside of his head. It amuses Erwin further. 

“The Premier is visiting in two days. He’ll want to meet you.” 

“What? Why?”

“News travels fast. We’ve had a drop in expedition casualties and word is you are to thank for it.”

“Even though it’s probably you, and your damn pictures and planning. Your formation.”

“Even if that’s the case, it’s good optics for the Corps if we have a hero to act as a torch of hope. Your abilities have saved many lives, Levi.”

“A ‘torch of hope’?! Do you hear yourself?! I don’t want any of that shit. I’m not playing your games.”

“That’s a pity. You’ve been playing them well so far. Or did you think you were above it all?”

“I’m no one’s hero.”

“It doesn’t need to be real, it just needs to be believable. Just stand still and look threatening; that should come very easily to you.”

Levi snorts. It’s almost a laugh. “Is this Premier one of your late-night stops?”

Erwin can’t stop the jump of his brows. He swallows a startled laugh. “No. No, he’s military. I will spare you the unpleasant theatrics of meeting aristocrats. Your unfriendly image might assist in that.”

“Fucking bureaucracy.” Levi mutters, sauntering past Erwin and heading for the door. “You gonna keep me in my room or shall we go eat?”

“Let’s go eat.” Erwin puts his hands in his pockets. Levi flicks an exasperated gaze at him as they leave, slamming the door behind them. 

“Thanks to your inane questions everything will be cold by now.”

000

Two days pass and the Survey Corps stand in formation for the Premier. It’s another hot day, and Levi is itchy and uncomfortable in his stiff jacket, made worse by the hundred or so eyes on him as he stands beside Captain Erwin, waiting to receive his mandatory polite and admiring word from this mighty bearded old man. Honestly, what a waste of time. 

He makes his way down the line of captains and section commanders. He knows Erwin by name, and thanks him for his service with a glint in his eye that Levi doesn’t like; vaguely reptilian, false warmth, subdued intelligence. A new recruit in row three keeps sneezing and it sets Levi’s teeth on edge. 

“And you must be Levi.” His voice reverberates, like dropping something down a well. Levi nods. 

“They call you Humanity’s Strongest. You must be quite an impressive sight in the field.”

“Most people in the field are too busy getting eaten to watch me, sir.” He says before he can think it through. He expects Erwin to tense beside him, but he keeps cool and collected. It’s another thing Levi resents in him. 

The Premier breathes a laugh out of his nose. “Quite the mouth on you, too. You are from the Underground?”

“Yes, sir.” He just manages the honorary.

“And you’re a lot shorter than I expected. I suppose you should never judge on appearances. If you’re half as strong as your superiors claim, we have a lot to thank you for. And in that regard, it just goes to show that it doesn’t matter where you come from.”

Be you high born or city scum, anyone can grow up to be cannon fodder. 

Levi thinks it does matter where he came from. His upbringing was an asset in the field, not a setback. He wouldn’t be half as fast, half as sharp, half as vicious if he’d been raised comfortably and lovingly. The Underground is as much to thank for his service as Erwin is. He doesn’t voice these thoughts, choosing instead to dig his fingernails into the meat of his thumb joint. 

He just nods, fixing his gaze somewhere over the Premier’s shoulder. 

“We are grateful to have you on our side.”

I’m not on your side, I’m on Erwin’s, he thinks, with sudden, concerning clarity. I’m on humanity’s, he corrects.

They host the Premier for dinner. He is sick of being in official uniform but at least the food is better than usual; fresher and hotter. He sits with his squad and tunes out their chatter, opting instead to watch The Premier talk to Shadis. They must mention Erwin, because both of their eyes flick to him, politely humouring Hange down the other end of the top table. The Premier nods grimly.

Levi burns with curiosity that he can no longer bury under a facade of indifference.

Chapter Text

He should have seen it coming; it was only a matter of time, and he’s so rarely underprepared for anything that it left him floundering. 

The guard at the gate does a double-take, opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m quite alright, Raymond, don’t worry.” He says dismissively and leads his horse through before he can ask any more questions. He prays he gets to his room tonight without encountering anyone else.

If the Wallists are correct in their religion, then Maria has seen fit to punish one of her greatest foes. A shadow lurks on the stable roof, cut sharply against the moonlit sky, like a large, looming bird. Erwin steels himself. 

“This is now a deliberate disregard of my orders. I’ll have to discipline you.”

“Surely there are much better uses of your time than punishing me for getting some fresh air. I figured you of all people would understand why it matters to me.”

It’s true. Erwin’s seen Levi’s home first-hand. Living with a constant roof over your head, deprived of sun and moon alike; of course the man likes it outside. Of course a closed, dark space brings back memories he’d rather forget. 

The threat was idle, anyway. Levi is right; he has better things to do than punish him for such a minor slight. 

Levi is picking his nails clean. He does that, Erwin has noticed, too often and too hard. He hurts himself. Levi has strong, small, capable hands, and he cuts them to ribbons trying to get them clean. Erwin observes, but keeps his silence. 

“You out spending the Scouts’ money on parties again?” He hasn’t looked up from his hand. Memories of the night swing before Erwin’s eyes like the pendulum of a clock; thick, purple fabric, wine-stained secrets, long nails scratching at the material of his trousers, the jubilant, righteous rage of a man scorned. Then blue. Then black. Then moonlight again.

Erwin permits him a chuckle; they both know he is the last man in the Walls who would embezzle. Levi looks up at the sound and his face clouds over.

“What the hell?” 

He’s on the ground before Erwin in a flash. Erwin didn’t even see him stand, let alone jump. He’s gripping the collar of Erwin’s shirt and yanking him down to his level. Erwin winces.

“What happened to you?”

Erwin imagines he is not a pretty sight. He can’t remember much past the man splitting his lip. He doesn't think he has broken anything, though, so it could be worse. He may even have avoided a black eye. 

“I fell.” He says unconvincingly. 

Levi looks angry rather than concerned. He rolls his eyes and releases Erwin.

“Sure. And Hange’s perfectly sane. What the fuck, Erwin?”

He’s been using his name recently. Before the last expedition, it was always a sarcastic ‘captain’ or ‘oi, you’ or ‘Smith’ if he was feeling polite, but now that he’s started using his first name, it seems he has no intention of stopping. Erwin likes it. It’s a sign of good progress.

“It’s alright, Levi. I’m fine, it looks worse than it is.”

“Did someone tell you they wouldn’t sacrifice their life for humanity or something? Someone insult your eyebrows? I never pegged you as one for getting into fights.”

“I didn’t get into a fight, I fell.” He says calmly. 

“Tch.” Levi takes the reins from him and leads his horse into the stable, unbuckling her girth and heaving off her saddle. He has to stand on his toes to slip the bridle off over her ears. He dumps the tack unceremoniously over the correct hook and then marches off towards the barracks. Erwin feels he has done something to aggravate him, but he isn’t sure what yet.

“C’mon then.” He grunts, and Erwin follows.

When they get inside, Erwin goes to peel off into his own room and Levi follows him.

“I told you, I’m fine, Levi.”

“You look like shit. I need to make sure your nose isn’t broken. Can’t imagine that thing getting any bigger.”

Erwin instinctively holds the door open for him and Levi has slipped inside before he can second-guess it. He goes immediately to Erwin's washbasin. He washes his hands thoroughly, wiping away the blood around his nails.

“Sit down.”

Erwin hangs up his jacket and sits on his bed. He watches Levi rinse his washcloth, sniff it, and then wash it again.

He glances at Erwin. “Look at the state of you.”

Erwin glances down. His nose has bled onto his shirt. “Oh.” He says.

“Take it off.”

If Levi’s motive here is caring for him, he’s showing it in a very unorthodox way. He avoids looking at Erwin, opting instead to make dissatisfied faces at his lack of medical supplies. However, Erwin isn’t squeamish. He unbuttons his shirt and drops it into the basket he keeps his laundry in. 

“C’mere.” Levi mutters, standing over him, between his legs, yanking Erwin’s face up by his chin. The position should be intimate, but Levi is so clinical about the whole thing that Erwin feels like he is genuinely receiving medical attention. He grits his teeth as Levi dabs at his split lip. 

Erwin looks at Levi’s face. He finds himself often wanting to study its sweeps and creases, its highs and hollows. Levi’s face is like a problem to solve, full of diversions and double-bluffs, and Erwin enjoys trying to decode what he’s feeling by the tiny flickers of genuine emotion masked and obscured by the scowls, the apathy, the vulgarity that drips from his small, splenetic mouth. He allows himself this invasive scrutiny, this personal project of trying to better understand his comrade by looking at him. He’s endlessly interesting, but Erwin tries not to burden him with his historically-lethal curiosity. 

“They must have been drunk. They missed your eyes and didn’t even manage to break your nose. And it’s such an easy target, too.” He murmurs, voice low and close, focused intently on cleaning the blood from Erwin’s face. 

“You have a problem with my nose, then?” He manages.

“It’s too big.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Levi pulls the cloth away to glare down at him. “Both, jackass.”

Erwin hums his amusement. Levi presses his fingertip to the side of his ‘too-big’ nose and traces the cartilage downwards. 

“Yeah, not broken.”

“Do you think I’ll have a black eye tomorrow?”

“No.” 

He wets the corner of the cloth and carefully wipes at the cut on his lip, pulling his mouth open. Erwin sees realisation flash across his face like the glint of a blade. Levi frowns.

“What?”

“You don’t smell like alcohol…” He says, more to himself than to Erwin. He dabs at his lip again and then releases it.

“Do you have any here? Might help with the cut.” He asks, glancing around.

“No. Besides, surely it isn’t that deep?”

“Fair enough. I’m just trying to save your face from infection.”

“Thank you.”

“The rest will just be bruising. Say you fell off your horse coming back from the tavern or something.”

“I’d like to think I’ve gained enough respect to not get questioned about it.” He raises his brows pointedly. Except by you, of course.

“Whatever. It’s your choice.”

Erwin watches him frown down at his face, prodding at the bruising, assessing the damage. Levi is pragmatic and efficient when it comes to caring for others, then. It is an ingrained trait that has been battered and beaten back, but not extinguished entirely. Erwin wonders how much softer, kinder, friendlier Levi might be if he hadn’t been raised in hell, how much more easily he’d wear his compassion if Erwin hadn’t dragged him from that hell and straight into the jaws of the devil himself. He mourns that man; the Levi that felt happiness without guilt, and affection without terror. 

It wouldn’t be Levi, though. He’s an amalgamation of his experiences, the good and the bad. A rough patchwork of horror and scars that comes together to make something quite beautiful.

He is vaguely embarrassed by his own train of thought. Maybe Lord Furbank hit him harder than he thought.

Levi uses the residual dampness of the cloth to wipe at the blood on Erwin’s chest. He can feel his precise strength through the touch.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” He says. Levi goes to wring out the cloth in the sink, cleaning his own hands, rolling down his sleeves. 

He expects a curt dismissal, and possibly another insult, but Levi is silent for a long moment and then says “If you told me where you were going, I could stop it happening to you in the first place.”

The protective sentiment is foolish, but so welcome that Erwin gapes a little. He reminds himself not to be patronising.

“I can’t, Levi. I’m sorry.” There. He’s admitted it. There is something he is hiding, and now Levi knows. Erwin’s no fool; he knows it is now only a matter of time before Levi finds out. He is a dangerous combination of intelligent, persistent and reluctantly caring, and worst of all Erwin trusts him. It will come out, and when it does, he will have to make peace with the fact that Levi will think less of him.

There is no room for pride here, I have already come to terms with that.

Perhaps Levi knows it too, because he gives Erwin a frustrated look, his thin brows knitted together, but he drops it.

“See if you can get some ice on it.” Levi says, making to leave. He looks uncomfortable again, like his actions have caught up with him. He shuts the door on his way out.

Erwin stands, stiff and aching, and finally looks at himself in the mirror. It could have been a lot worse. There is bruising around his nose and his lip is split and swollen, but otherwise he got off pretty lightly. The punch was poorly-aimed, but never meant to do serious damage. It was all part of the show, part of the fun . He knows better than to seek revenge, or even mention it to anyone else. Both he and Lord Furbank will pretend it never happened. With the discolouration, his messy hair and lack of shirt, he cuts quite the intimidating picture; a thug, perhaps. The sort of maniac capable of sending children to fight titans with no visible remorse.

He sighs and readies himself for bed. He imagines it won’t be long before the sun is up anyway. He never could turn his brain off, and he knows that what little sleep he gets will not be restful.

000

People whisper stories about Erwin’s face - everything from an apple falling on him to Levi pushing him down the stairs - but the bruises heal well and once they begin to fade, so do the rumours. 

They’re at a debriefing a few days later when an out-of-breath Yenna rushes into the room. Levi is only there out of courtesy, as Erwin has insisted that, despite his lack of official rank, his skill and input into battle formations means it would be convenient if he received an invite. Levi is bored out of his mind, so in some ways he’s grateful for the abrupt intrusion. Several heads swivel round. Captain Gershin pauses halfway through his sentence. 

“Yes?” Demands Shadis. Levi watches Yenna’s wide eyes flicker around the room, touch on him and then alight on Erwin.

“I would like to speak with Captain Erwin, please sir.” She says. She is out of breath.

“Now?”

“It is urgent, sir. It concerns his squad.”

“Alright. Erwin, Levi, go with her.”

Once they’re out of the meeting room, Yenna takes off down the hallways, speaking as she goes in a tone that shows barely-concealed panic.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know what else to do. It’s wrong of me to snitch, but I can’t just let him do this - “

“Do what , Yenna?” Erwin asks. Levi has to take extra strides to keep up with the pair of them. Bloody titans themselves…

“Samuel, sir. He’s deserting.”

“Deserting?!”

“Yes. Now. I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen. I thought maybe you could. He’s not in a good way, sir.”

Deserting is surprisingly uncommon in the Scouts, Levi has found. The only instances he has heard of it are the nights before a mission. Some people quit after an expedition, ghosts of too many deaths clouding their eyes, but to try to sneak away, to leave informally, when all soldiers of rank were busy with a meeting; it is cowardice that Levi did not expect from Samuel.

Yenna’s usually stoic face is full of self-doubt. They burst through the doors of the courtyard and he is there; a bag slung over his shoulder, making a beeline for the stables. Stealing a horse is also risky; they are precious and expensive, and make the Scouts more likely to chase you down. He must be desperate. 

“Sam!” Yenna barks. He freezes when he sees her, visibly blanches when he sees who she has with her.

“Captain Erwin, it isn’t what it looks like…” 

“No? Care to explain then?”

Samuel shakes. The bags under his eyes are as grey and heavy as thunderclouds. He looks scared; of his duty, of Erwin or of Levi, it isn’t clear.

“I just...I just…”

“Desertion is a criminal offence, Samuel. If you wish to leave, you merely need to put in for a transfer. This is underhand of you, and frankly insulting.” Says Erwin, steady and clear, disappointment permeating every syllable. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I - “

“Come with me. We will discuss this in my room.”

“ No! ” Samuel cries, then looks shocked at his own voice. He grips one hand with the other and shakes harder.

“I...can’t. I can’t go back, I’m sorry. It’s over for me. It’s over for all of us…”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been struggling, sir. With Forris’ death.” Yenna supplies. Samuel shoots her a glare, full of betrayal.

“That is understandable. His loss was a blow to the whole squad.” Erwin says, “But in his memory we continue to fight. His sacrifice means nothing if it compels us to run away.”

Samuel’s eyes fill with tears. His legs are trembling. “It doesn’t matter what his s-sacrifice means. He’s dead. He’ll never know. And I’m going to be next; tomorrow or in a year, I’ll die too.”

“That is a risk we all take when we dedicate our hearts to the Survey Corps.” Erwin says. 

“Not me. Not any more. I can’t, I - “

“You thus dishonour your fallen comrades. You thus give in to your own fear.”

Samuel’s legs finally give out. He collapses in a pile of green fabric and wide, tearful eyes. Yenna kneels to help him.

Erwin’s speeches are designed to carry across a crowd, not soothe a single soul. He frowns, huge and imposing, proud and perfect; an unattainable, untouchable figure of humanity. Levi clicks his tongue when he goes to speak again.

“Listen, it’s shit. It’s gonna be shit for a while. It might very well always be shit.” Levi speaks without thinking. Samuel’s watery eyes peer up at him from under his fringe of hair.

“We don’t recover from loss. Never fully. It’s a blessing and a curse. Sure, he’s gone, but what’s worse is that you’re grateful it wasn’t you. What’s worse is that sometimes you wish it had been, right?”

Samuel’s lip quivers. Erwin has crossed his arms, leaned back on his hip.

“So what do we do? Have you really changed so much? When you joined, you wanted to make a difference, right?”

“Yeah...I mean, sure, but...that was back then. That was before I’d s-seen…”

“Of course. It’s way worse than you can possibly imagine. But that’s not the point. You’ve faced your fear; it can’t get worse. And what do you hope to go back to, hm?”

“I..I…”

“Nothing. You’re going back to nothing. You’re past the point of no return, Samuel. If you leave now you’ll regret it forever, you will never know peace, I promise you. Do you know why?”

Samuel listens, shocked at Levi’s words or perhaps just at his willingness to talk. He shakes his head, lips parted.

“It’s because of him.” Levi tilts his head towards Erwin, who shows no outward signs of surprise at being dragged back into the conversation.

“It’s because you’ve listened to his damn lectures, his noble fucking words, and they’ve got to you, right? They might even be the reason you joined. That’s the thing about hope; once it’s planted it just grows and grows, even if it grows twisted and ugly. He put the idea of freedom and heroism in your head, and you’ll never be able to get it out. That’s what he’s good at.”

Samuel looks from Levi to Erwin. For once, he looks more scared of the latter. Yenna rests her hand on Samuel’s arm.

“He’s idealistic and probably insane, but you believe him, right? You think we’re gonna make a break someday. You think that this is humanity’s only chance at true freedom. You understand that you’re a part of that chance.”

Samuel glances down, ashamed. He brushes at his cheek.

“You trust him. You trust me. You trust Yenna and the others like you trusted Forris. We can’t predict the future, but sometimes you’ve just gotta grit your teeth and throw yourself into it. It’s a shitty, terrifying, bloody, unfair world, but if you think you can see a speck of light at the end, you’ve gotta push towards it, because you’re not an idiot. So don’t fret about your own life, because we’ll look out for you. And don’t bawl like a baby whenever someone dies or you’ll dehydrate yourself before the next expedition. Do you hear me?”

Samuel nods. He closes his eyes and bows his head, like he is repenting. Levi extends his hand.

“Get up, soldier. You’re here at the edge of the world, staring into hell. It’d be a shame to turn back now.”

Samuel takes Levi’s hand, allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Yenna picks up his bag.

“S-sorry, Captain Smith. I’m just scared.”

“Fear is a good motivator. It will keep you alert and engaged.” Erwin says.

Samuel nods. “Thanks, Levi.”

Levi shrugs. “Can’t have you quitting after we just got you nicely trained.”

Samuel attempts a damp smile. Yenna puts her free hand on his shoulder and leads him back towards the barracks. 

“Didn’t expect it of him. I guess he took Forris worse than I thought. We should pay more attention to our team.” Says Levi. He glances at Erwin, who is giving him a long, hard look. Despite its hardness, it is soft round the edges; something in the light in his eyelashes or the corners of his lips. He blinks slowly and nods.

“Yes. Thank you for de-escalating that, Levi. You have quite the way with words when you want to.”

Levi shrugs. “Can’t be bothered to learn another name.”

He kicks a pebble along the dusty ground. “Guess we better get back to Shadis. I can’t wait to hear what other terrific, inventive methods he has conjured up to get us all killed.”

Erwin exhales through his nose, a huff of amusement, and follows Levi back inside. 

000

Levi spends the rest of the meeting feeling tense and frustrated, like a wound exposed before it’s finished healing. Whatever possessed him to spew that shit to Samuel took him completely by surprise. He’s not even sure he believed what he was saying. 

What he knows now, however, is that Erwin is in his debt. If not in deed then definitely in trust. He’s been worn down, rough and reluctant, to following Erwin, to believing in him. But there’s only so far his patience can go, and it’s gone far enough. 

He follows Erwin out of the meeting. The Captain doesn’t question it when he tails him all the way to his room. It’s like something sickly has settled over them, a thin blanket of anxiety, prickling the back of Levi’s neck. He leans against the door to close it behind him. Erwin loosens his tie, unbuttons his collar, rolls his shoulders back to ease the stiffness there. Levi drops into the spare chair.

“Something on your mind, Levi?” He says, too casual, too light. Levi isn’t convinced.

“You tell me.”

“I’m glad that you believe in me.”

Levi makes a frustrated, disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “How am I supposed to believe in you when you’re lying to me?”

He reads deliberation in the stalemate of Erwin’s face. Levi remembers it bruised and bloody, slack with defeat, with exhaustion. There’s no need to clarify; Erwin knows what he’s referring to. With his perfect posture outlined by the sunset, he looks like a building, like a titan, like a wall; like something sturdy and unmoveable, something that was here before the rest of them. 

An eye for an eye, Blondie. I watch your back, you watch mine. Don’t make me regret convincing that kid to follow through with his slow suicide.

He cracks, and caves in. 

“Very well.” The Captain sighs. He is silent for a long moment and then when he speaks again, he addresses the window pane rather than Levi.

“It is my duty, and the duty of all high-ranking members of the Survey Corps, to ensure that we carry out our mission at any cost and by any means. As you may be aware, financial support has been dwindling over the past few years, mostly due to waning optimism and the fact we have the highest casualties of any other regiment and precious little to show for it. As a result, it is my responsibility to garner favour with the nobles of the Interior, and encourage them to support the Scouts in word and in coin.”

Levi flicks his wrist, throwing one leg over the other. “Yeah, yeah I know all this. Doesn’t take a genius to work out we’re in the shit. So that’s what’s keeping you out late, huh?”

The Captain meets his gaze evenly. “Yes,” he says.

“It’s underhand, right? That’s why you’re secretive with it. That’s why it’s always at night, and why you’re always flighty afterwards. It’s why you’ve kept it from me even though I’ve been asking for months. You think I’ll think less of you, or something? Because that would be ironic.”

“Something like that.” Erwin admits, genuinely abashed and perhaps a little amused, smiling sadly at a joke only he understands. Levi doesn’t like inside jokes.

“What is it then? Are you blackmailing someone? Do you run some illegal club in Sina?”

Erwin slips out of his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair. Levi watches him push his sleeves up his forearms. When he turns back to him, he looks tired.

“I’d do anything for the Corps. I believe without funding for expeditions, humanity has lost all hope. I won’t be left behind these walls, clamouring for answers, for a glimpse of the world beyond. And I don’t believe others should have to either. However, I do draw the line somewhere. I would resort to manipulation, to blackmail, perhaps even to the threat of violence, but I would not involve others in this affair. The fewer people who know the desperation of the Scouts, the better. I would not turn to immoral or unethical acts to get the money we need, and Commander Shadis wouldn’t want me to. Instead, my solution involves only me. It is therefore low-risk, and often high reward.”

“Yeah? I figured as much. Your fucking head going a million leagues an hour, it was bound to be something like that.”

Erwin sits down and rests his elbows on the desk, knotting his fingers together to form a platform for his chin. He seems calmer, lighter, even. Levi’s gut twists. He prepares for what comes next without being sure of what it is, as if he is reeling from a blow he hasn’t felt yet.

“What do you do, Captain Smith?”

“I sell the only thing I have at my disposal.”

Recognition floats dismally to the surface, like seeing a family resemblance in a corpse.

“Yourself.” Levi supplies.

“Myself.” The Captain confirms, low and level, like the tolling of a bell.

The disgust comes, but secondary to the anger. It is a sudden thunderclap of unexpected rage, ripping into Levi’s chest and out through his spine, running him through quickly and leaving him hollow.

“To…?”

“Whoever is worth the time. Noblewomen mostly, with or without the permission of their husbands. It is not so much a transaction as an incentive. It is a method of garnering favour and accruing support. So far it has been one of the most effective methods I can employ.”

He looks down, looks away. He isn’t quite ashamed, it’s more like he’s in mourning, but for someone else. His detachment is almost admirable.

Levi has a sudden flash of damp, cold walls, rotten floorboards, the constant sound of rattling coughing rising between them, the hiss of an empty oil lamp, the scratching and screeching of rats, the way that sounds of pain and pleasure merge in a house that trades one for the other. He thinks about his mother’s skeletal hands; so gentle on his forehead. He thinks of folding himself into the smallest space he could find so he wouldn’t have to confront what was happening to her.

“How long?”

“Pretty much since I became a captain. I showed enough promise with my strategy that the commander would take me to official events in the Capital. It became apparent that certain people would pay more attention to our plight if they could get a taste of it themselves. Not the titan killing; just the vicarious thrill. It was my own idea. Shadis knows. He encourages it.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Erwin chuckles to himself. It is a warm and surprising sound.

“Yes, I suppose it is. I think of it as a means to an end, however our reputation is already in pieces, and so it is paramount that this method of gathering funds does not become common knowledge. Hence the sneaking around. Hence the secrecy.”

“That’s an awful lot to carry yourself, captain.”

“How so?”

Erwin, leaving before dinner with his hair parted perfectly and his collar starched. Erwin, as seen over the rim of a wine glass, lit by candles, a golden specimen of bravery and bravado, made all the more appealing by his expiration date; a rare and raw commodity to be taken before it is gone forever in the jaws of a titan. Erwin, with his noble posture and his cold scrutiny and his ruthless pragmatism, his distance and his intelligence, unbuttoning a blouse as some flushed noble woman breathes drunkenly against his neck. Erwin, returning in the early hours, tired and inhuman, wrung out and degraded, with only the moon to observe him. The moon and Levi on the stable roof, scoffing at his projected sense of grandeur. Levi feels sick.

“That’s fucked up.” He says again. He has to get out. He stands, the chair scraping loudly as he moves with haste towards the door. He can’t even look at Erwin

He hears him say “Do not tell a soul, Levi” and wants to laugh.

Tell anyone? To what end? To make sure no one treats Erwin with respect again? To drag his name through the mud and undo all the good he’s achieved in the few years he’s been given the opportunity to? So that people can wonder and whisper, probing at his shame when he does it with nothing but noble intentions? So that others have the images that Levi now has running through his head; of grabbing hands and harness marks, hard words and soft lips, of lies upon lies upon lies in a desperate attempt to get to the truth?

“I won’t.” He says, choked, as he leaves.

Chapter Text

The first was a lord’s daughter called Arabelle.

Erwin had thought it strange that he would be personally invited to a noble’s house. As a new captain, he was young and one of several, and despite his fairly impressive field record, he was as of yet pretty unremarkable. The Commander ordered him to attend nevertheless, stating that the lord’s land was ideal for breeding Scout horses, and all of his requests must be met.

Arabelle was short and demanding; softened and spoiled from a life of luxury. She was the lord’s only daughter, and he catered to her every whim. Erwin gathered fairly quickly that she had a romantic idea of the Survey Corps, or at least a morbid curiosity with it, and while Shadis attempted to sweet-talk her father, Erwin was left to keep her entertained.

He remembers it well. As a man of action and strategy, social niceties and small talk were just another front upon which to wage war for him. His father raised him to be astute and polite, to value the opinion of others and to speak honestly but carefully. Despite his ability to sway and befriend, he had never had to attempt to charm before.

And it quickly became obvious to him that this was why he was there. Arabelle sat close and spoke low and loose. She peered up at him with ill-concealed interest. He felt himself embarrassingly on the back foot.

She then told him as much; “I saw you after the last mission, coming up through the Shiganshina gate on the way to Trost. The others looked scared, but you didn’t. You didn’t even look tired. Your back was so straight. I remember your eyebrows. ‘He’s so intense’, I thought. I simply had to meet you. Imagine my delight when my father said he was considering doing business with your regiment! Clearly the fates have aligned for me.”

He wonders even now if Shadis knew, or at least had an inkling. It was too perfect: hours of boot-licking and negotiations for him, and all the time in the world for Erwin to keep Arabelle company, alone, in her own home. He doesn’t resent him for it. Even back then he knew what he had signed up for, and just how far he would go to ensure victory. He looked on this as another duty, another method to assure Shadis that he was fit for leadership, and devoted to besting the titans, to finding the truth.

She’d smelled of too-sweet lilac, perfume so sugary it was barely recognisable as something that had once been a flower, and her bedroom window had been open; Erwin remembers hearing the gardeners argue over cigarettes. When he pressed his nose to her stomach, he discovered she’d put a concentrated dab of perfume just below her navel, in preparation for him. When she pulled a button off his shirt, she’d laughed and cooed about how handsome he was. When she came against his fingers she’d sighed his name like they knew each other.

They got their horses. Shadis didn’t say a word about the missing button. Erwin felt this was the beginning of a war on a different front, one he hadn’t initially anticipated; of his own body and mind. He was twenty five.

000

Daisy was the woman he most often went to when his mother was working. Daisy had the room two doors down, and he would be ushered into it, as dank and dark and dirty as his own, and he’d sit there for however long it took - an hour, sometimes more - until his mother came to collect him. She looked sad, and held his hand too-tightly, when she came to get him afterwards.

Daisy’s door was two down from theirs’. Daisy’s door was only two down from theirs’. Daisy was not very friendly, but sometimes she’d sing loudly and off-key when he started hearing things he didn’t want to. 

When his mother began to get weaker, he spent less time with Daisy. This is what he wanted; more time with his mother’s attention entirely on him, cleaning his nails and telling him stories. Occasionally, if she had the strength, she’d take him up to the roof and they peer out over the bustling gloom of the Underground. 

When Daisy died, Levi had nowhere to go. He’d wander around the building, acquainting himself with all of the sounds men make when they’re enjoying themselves, and all of the sounds that women make when they are not, or when they are pretending to. Faint from hunger, he’d often not have the strength to go very far. He’d often just sit outside the room, legs tucked under his chin, palms pressed against his ears, begging for it to all be over.

And then it was over. And then came Kenny and the endless nights and the knives and the fights. Then came Farlan and the gear and the scramble to get above. Then came Lobov and Erwin and the titans and the sky. 

And Levi sits on the stable roof with his legs folded underneath him, trying to forget the sound of it all, trying not to think about how it’s the same; how people are the same, above and below, and always will be. Those entitled will take what they want without giving a damn about the consequences, be it at the point of a knife, or with fancy words and promises of gold, of glory. 

You’ll never get up, you’ll never get out, unless you’re willing to sell yourself away, giving until you have nothing left to give.

He shouldn’t be disgusted with Erwin, he knows. He was never disgusted with his mother. It’s a necessity of life; the exchange of something you have for something you don’t. Erwin’s dedication is commendable, his exterior built of marble, his spirit uncrushed despite everything. It’s insane. It’s amazing.

Levi’s disgust is selfish. He is disgusted that Erwin would bring that shit here, above, where things are supposed to be cleaner and freer and better. He resents Erwin for dragging Levi back to that time of his life, where everything was revolting and made him upset, made his mother hurt. He is bitter that he’s having to remember it now, that Erwin’s no more noble than his mother was. Selling themselves, drunk on something; an idea, an emotion, a distant dream. Whores. What’s left when you’ve given everything?

He shouldn’t care. It’s none of his business and now he’s pestered Erwin into telling him the truth, there’s no need for curiosity anymore. The Captain doesn’t seem burdened by it. A little embarrassed, perhaps, but not splintering like the women below were. Levi will keep an eye on him, keep his silence, and not dwell on it. It’s not like Erwin would want to stop even if he could. That madman would do anything for his damn cause. A couple of words from a whore’s son will do nothing to sway him.

All I do these days is think about that guy. Something in my head must have got knocked loose on the last expedition.

He regrets running away so fast. What are the chances that Erwin will trust him now he’s shown his true colours? He’ll look like either a coward or a prude or both. He’s been avoiding him ever since, and it must be so blatantly obvious.

Shouldn’t have poked my damn nose in. This is what I get; a conversation I don’t want to have discussing things I don’t want to think about.

Because he realises he will need to talk to Erwin about it. Whatever he does for his lofty reasons, he clearly isn’t looking after himself while he’s doing it. How many more split lips will he have to explain away? Perhaps telling Levi was a well-disguised cry for help, or at least for assistance.

He agreed to talk to Hange about his ‘superior instincts’, and he’s regretting it now, winding his way through the basement corridors of HQ to the room they’ve been assigned and designated as their ‘lab’. The walls are damp. He wonders if the floor has ever been mopped.

“I’m here.” He says, deadpan, letting himself in. They’re examining something through an eye glass, holding it up in a pair of tweezers. Levi shudders at the mess; books stacked precariously in huge piles, discarded crockery from meals they’ve eaten in here, papers and flasks and bits of ODM gear scattered over every surface. 

“You’re a little late, aren’t you?”

“Be glad I came at all, shitty-glasses.”

“Of course, of course! I’m grateful! Come in, make yourself comfortable!”

What follows is two hours of prying questions, increasingly ridiculous theories and a lot of Hange staring at a spot of Levi’s blood on a glass slide. Eventually his patience runs out.

“I need to talk to Erwin. I’m sick and tired of this.” He’s spent the session with his limbs tucked closely to his body to avoid touching anything unsanitary. He unfolds himself now, stiff and touchy, and heads for the door.

“Oh! Silly me for getting carried away, I barely even noticed the time. Thank you, Levi! I’ll come back to you when I’ve streamlined my hypothesis further!”

“Sure, whatever.” He growls on his way out.

It was an excuse, but he does feel like he should seek Erwin out. Somewhere between the basement and the barracks, he talks himself out of it. It isn’t a big deal, and he’s never been good with words. He’ll wait until after dinner, when he’d normally go to Erwin’s room to go over formation plans with him. He still isn’t quite sure what he wants to say.

It’s awkward when he arrives after dinner, which is ridiculous, because long, uncomfortable silences are Levi’s speciality and Erwin has the social skills of a saint. Still, Erwin’s smile is tight and his gaze a little unsteady as he nods Levi in.

He takes his usual spot. 

“Good evening, Levi. Thanks for coming, I didn’t know whether to expect you or not. We’re doing another surveillance mission next week, so I need your input on these -”

“I’m sorry, ok?” 

It comes out biting and frustrated, which then makes Levi more frustrated. He knots his arms together and glares at the bookcase instead of looking at Erwin. 

“For what?”

“For being an ass to you before. Storming out, like a damn kid. Sorry.”

“That’s…” He risks a glance. Erwin looks genuinely taken aback. “That’s fine, Levi. You didn’t offend me. I expected shock.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t have. That isn’t me.”

“Ok, well thank you for apologising anyway.”

He doesn’t think he has ever apologised to Erwin before. It’s sour on his tongue, but like bile he forces it out.

“I’m glad you told me. That was decent of you. You trusted me with it and I bolted, which was shitty. So I wanna start again.” 

He looks at Erwin now, at the long, curved slope of his nose and the shadow between his bottom lip and his chin. He looks like he’s waiting for Levi to continue.

“I don’t care what you do in your spare time. If you wanna whore yourself out for the sake of the cause, that either makes you very dedicated or very stupid, and I don’t think you’re stupid.” Erwin tilts his head, concedes to the point, acknowledges the hidden compliment.

“I just think it’s careless. And unnecessary. And I didn’t expect you to debase yourself like that.”

“It’s not all back alleys and pay-per-hour, Levi. I think you have the wrong impression. No one buys me, I just persuade them into parting with some of their resources.”

“Sounds like the same thing to me. Either way it’s money for sex.”

The last word rips through the cushioned air of Erwin’s warm, quiet room. It’s like it jolts something to life in Levi, something like awareness, like he’s finally looked at the matter head-on, and recognised it for what it is, and now he’s seen it, he cannot go back.

“Yes, I suppose. In some instances. Sometimes it’s just company. People who have never known real danger want to feel it by proxy, or they want to feel special. It’s a facade. I sell them a story.”

“Trust you to make it sound all grand and glorious.”

“It’s neither. It’s just necessary.”

“You came back bloody once; why was that?”

Erwin absent-mindedly brushes his fingertips along his lips, the tip of his nose, feeling phantom cuts. “A husband. He knew beforehand, in fact I believe he gave her permission, but you can never predict these things. He was defending her honour, but really it was all part of the theatrics.” Levi catches on: I was selling him something too; an excuse for violence, the opportunity to be a hero.

“He nearly broke your damn nose.”

“He won’t do it again.”

“He tell you that?”

“No, I won’t be returning to their estate. I get to choose, you see.”

Levi’s mother didn’t choose. Sometimes she didn’t even get a good look at them. They’d let themselves in already undressing, and she’d lie there. That’s something, Levi supposes; the ability to walk away.

“How do you make sure it doesn’t happen at another estate? With another husband?”

Erwin laughs lightly. “I’m a trained soldier, Levi, and a squad leader. I can defend myself well enough.”

“You didn’t last time.”

“He did no lasting damage. I consider that a victory.”

Levi grinds his jaw. Erwin blinks at him for a long moment, and then sighs, sitting back in his chair.

“Alright. You can ask me questions if you’d like, but then I’d really rather drop it and get on with our work.”

“Fine. Who?”

“A wide assortment of nobles.”

“In Sina?”

“A couple in Karanesse. One outside Ehrmich. But mostly Mitras and the surrounding areas, yes.”

“For how long?”

“Roughly five years.”

“For how much?”

“I don’t have rates, Levi. Sometimes it’s part of playing the long game with winning them over to our cause. It could be anything from an entire artillery to a couple of positive words to the Premier.”

“How many?”

“Over the years? I’d estimate around thirty. Usually only once, and not all of them were sexual.”

“So some call you back?”

“Yes, some.”

“Who are they?”

“I cannot disclose names. That’s part of the agreement; it is all treated with the utmost discretion.”

“All women?”

“There have been one or two men, but nobles of that inclination tend to prefer younger, softer-looking boys. I’m not the right type.”

Levi swallows. He knows his brow must have lowered far enough over his eyes to throw them into considerable shadow, but he can’t help it.

“Do you enjoy it?”

This pulls Erwin up short. He turns his head and contemplates a bird as it lands lightly on the outside windowsill.

“It is not always unpleasant. Some of the women are kind and well-meaning. Some of them want to hear about our goal, our expeditions, and seem to genuinely care. Some of them are amusing. And the life they lead is so different to our own that I occasionally find myself intrigued.”

I meant the sex. Do you enjoy the sex?

Levi clamps his lips together. Erwin sees. His eyes catch there.

“It is necessary, Levi, that is all. Just another duty I must perform. There is no need to think on it further, just let me do my job.”

After a moment of contemplation, Levi nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” Erwin says, always expressing gratitude, always giving his thanks. Always so damn polite. Levi thinks about biting into a gloriously shiny apple and finding it rotten inside.

“Now, allow me to go through this idea I’ve had with you…” He takes out his plans, talks Levi through them. Another day in this den of crackpots, with another brilliant lunatic explaining their ideas to him. Great.

000

Erwin has had a long-standing, satisfyingly uncomplicated relationship with Harriet, the wife of Lord Ashburn. He met her at twenty-six, when she was thirty-seven. She invites him to dinner roughly once every two months. 

Her husband is a weak and watery man, cowed under her personality, perfectly content to sit in luxury and provide her with whatever she wants. He is not an evil man, merely a man who submits, and feels no shame in doing so. He is sometimes in the house when Erwin visits.

Harriet herself is rather beautiful. She has a pale, impassive face that cracks into mischief every few minutes, her large, red mouth splitting into a grin. She is prematurely greying, but wears it like a fine cloak, and always has her nails long, clean, sharp and painted. She has dark hooded eyes and a rounded jaw, her physique speaking of a life of good meals and little exercise, and she is known in her district for being well-dressed. Erwin doesn’t dislike spending time with her, despite the persona he adopts as soon as he slips off his horse.

They eat, and she prods him about the Scout Regiment and he answers with as much politeness and charm as he can muster. She teases him about being a lackey and then teases him about having a death wish and then teases him about shooting up the ranks of the least popular military division and he laughs good-naturedly throughout. She offers him a drink in her reception room and he sits in his usual spot at the end of the couch and sips the whiskey she brings. He watches her monologue about this party and that scandal and whatever particular annoyance her husband is presenting to her this month, walking around the room as she does so, touching all of her trinkets and artwork and affects as if counting them, as if drawing his attention to them like he hasn’t been in this room many times before. There is a gilded clock over the fireplace. Erwin glances at it. It has just gone ten.

“I have a friend, Lady Carlisle, recently widowed - terrible tragedy, the poor dear. I trust her well, we’ve known each other since we were girls, and she is quite upset, in need of comfort, in need of release, you might say. I told her about you. I told her how impeccable your table manners are, and how much I like your voice. She’s very rich. And fairly generous. I thought perhaps you’d like to meet her.”

“So you are procuring for me now?” 

“I’m not looking for a cut, I just thought it might be nice for her. I heard you’re gearing up for a big mission, and could use all the support you can get.”

“You heard correctly. We want to leave in the next month or so, but funds are tight.”

“Well, you can count on my usual donation. Any more and my husband might object. Paying for teenagers to die isn’t good for our image, apparently, and there’s only so much he’ll agree to do for the man cuckolding him.”

Harriet is insatiable. Erwin thinks her husband must be quite relieved to have her taken off his hands for a few hours. 

“Thank you, we are grateful.” 

She pauses where she is admiring her reflection in an ornate hand mirror to give him a stern look.

“I am grateful.”

She nods. “Although, perhaps Lady Carlisle is looking for a husband, and then what would you do? You would have to sleep in the bed with her afterwards, and you wouldn’t like that, would you? However, if you did marry her, you could channel all the riches you want towards the Survey Corps.”

The thought of assisting his cause that passively turns Erwin’s stomach. He’d much rather be eaten by a titan than couch comfortably within Wall Sina for the rest of his days.

“I’d make her a widow twice-over. That’s something I have vowed not to do to anyone.”

She laughs through her nose, lips pressed together in a vicious smile. “That’s a convenient excuse. You’d take a hard bunk and pitiful military pay over noble complacency, wouldn’t you? That’s what makes you different from all the other men I know. That’s what makes me like you.”

She stalks towards him like a fox and settles herself in his lap. He puts his drink down and meets her hot, probing gaze. He feels like a different person here, like a puppet on a string, like a dog performing its tricks in the hope of getting a treat. It is better for him to switch his mind off, if he can.

“How is your little one? Your experiment? I saw him at the market the other day, buying tea. He is so short. And so angry-looking.”

“Levi is doing well. He is adapting to the squad and showing great promise. I am pleased with him.”

She wraps her arms around his neck languidly, speaking closely but conversationally, as if they are sweethearts, as if they are friends.

“Does he help to raise funds?”

“No.”

“He’s odd, and a little surly, but some women like them pretty like that. Bratty. Like a cat. Some men, too.”

“Raising funds for the Corps is not his responsibility. I wouldn’t ask it of him and even if I did, he wouldn’t do it. He has a fair amount of disdain for both the system and me.”

She laughs; warm air against his face. “He sounds amusing.”

“He can be.”

She bumps their noses together and contemplates his mouth for a while. He sits patiently.

“You know, perhaps I won’t introduce you to Lady Carlisle. I’m not sure I want to share you. If she were to fall in love with you I’d go mad with jealousy. I am much more comforted knowing your heart belongs to your cause.”

“You have no grounds for concern. You are irreplaceable.”

“Such sweet words.” She idles, pecking him on the lips. She moves his hands to her waist and leaves them there. He sees her eyes close as she curls her hands around his ears, scratching at the neatly clipped hair on the back of his head. He glances back at the clock when he knows she cannot see. It is ten-thirty now.

“When you are commander I shall not be able to have you as I do now, I suppose. You will be too busy, too important, too proud. If you’re making a big push into titan territory, I should make the most of our time together, don’t you think?”

“I’m at your disposal as ever, my lady.”

“Harriet.”

“Yes, excuse me. Harriet.”

She presses her lips to the high of his cheekbone. It’s sticky; she will leave a print in lipstick there. He doesn’t shudder. 

She presses herself against his hips as she slides the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Her long nails scratch against his clavicle as she leaves more bloody smears of lipstick against his neck. He stirs himself internally. It wouldn’t do to seem apathetic. He imagines one of his strongest selling points is his passion. He mustn’t falter.

“I know there are others, of course. I knew before I had you. That made me want you more. At first. I wonder if you think of them when you are with me. I wonder if our faces blur together. I wonder if you’re fantasising about open hills and endless skies, about your own victory. My brave captain. How can you be so intimate and so distant?” She says it like she likes it, which she must do, considering how long this arrangement has been going on, considering how much money she has diverted from her husband’s personal finances to the Scouts. 

Erwin lets her unbutton his shirt. She runs her fingertips over the smooth surface of his bolo tie. He presses his thumbs into the dips of flesh above her pelvis and she makes a thoughtful, contented sound.

“Do you think of your commander as you do this? His orders, his expectations, how badly you wish you could take his place? Do you think of your fallen comrades? Those you have yet to send to their deaths using the gifts I give you?” She bites his earlobe. He glances at the clock again. Her hands on his belt feel familiar, almost comfortable. “Do you think of your little thug from the Underground? How you feed him and clothe him up here under the sun, with money from my husband? I bet his hands are smaller than mine.”

Levi’s hands are smaller than Harriet’s, but stronger and more precise. He keeps his nails short, and makes himself bleed with the effort of keeping them clean. Erwin has a hot flash of the memory of Levi’s hands on his face, his thumb on his lip, probing the split in the skin, cold and steady and sure.

Erwin kisses her to stop her talking. Her kisses are long and aggressive and so he matches her. She pulls at his clothes so he pulls at hers. She shoves her hand into his underwear so he rucks up her skirt. It’s a battle with Harriet. Lots of women want dominance, or tenderness, but she wants a war. It’s easier this way, to see this as another struggle of strategy, a game to play with an adversary, a hard session of training with an equal.

Usually she’d take him to her bedroom, but today she seems to be in a hurry and she fucks him on the coach in his usual spot, right at the end. He pulls her hair and bites at her throat like he knows she likes and makes sure she comes first, pulling her off him afterwards. It is easier, then, to talk his own body down. If he got any of these noblewomen pregnant, it would be a whole other set of moral and political issues. 

“Stay the night.” She breathes, flushed and sweating, her dress opened to her sternum. He does his shirt up. He glances at the clock. Eleven thirty. Earlier than usual.

“I can’t.” He says.

“Of course not.” She sounds bitter, defeated. As if spurred on by this denial, she drags him closer again and bites his neck, sucking a bruise against his jugular. He’s irate. The arrangement calls for discretion, and he’ll have to come up with a way to obscure any marks she leaves on him above his collar. She knows this. She grins at him triumphantly. 

“When you are in a monster’s mouth, I hope in your last moments you think of mine.” She says, sultry and mischievous. Erwin buttons his collar up. 

“It is difficult to forget, Harriet.” He replies, imbuing his words with warm humour.

When he returns to the compound, dead on his feet, he notices that Levi isn’t in his usual spot.

000

After training one afternoon, Hange corners Levi on the field. The sun beats down mercilessly on the dry grass, and the air shimmers with humidity. Levi’s dark hair draws in the heat and he constantly flicks it away from his brows with increasing annoyance. He’s hot and sticky and not in the mood for their babbling, but after promising they’ll only take up a few minutes of his time, Levi drops heavily onto the ground in the shade of a tree and listens to them prattle on about his blood.

“...nothing immediately noticeable, anyway, but my equipment is not as up-to-date as I’d like. Budget cuts, you know? Always happens before a big expedition. Can’t be helped. Anyway, I’ve been thinking more about your lineage, and perhaps I’d need a deeper sample -”

“I do not like the sound of that.” Levi says. Hange hands him a flask of water. He drinks half of it and pours the rest over his hands, washing the sweat and metal-smell from them.

“Nothing dire, just a bone marrow sample. It can be accomplished with a long needle, and -”

“I’m not letting you stick a needle into my bone. Never. So just drop it.”

“Aren’t you as curious as I am? It could tell you some things about your family that you don’t know.”

Levi knows virtually nothing about his family, and he is more than happy to keep it that way. His mother had to resort to the brothel to feed herself and his father was one of the disgusting brutes that paid to violate her. If his mother had compassionate family, he never saw any of it. What sort of parents leave their daughter to rot away in the stinking sewer of the capital? What sort of sibling lets their sister turn to physical degradation just to keep herself alive? They might as well all be dead as far as Levi is concerned. In fact, he hopes they are.

Hange’s looking at him like they can’t believe that he wouldn’t want to know about his estranged relatives. Their hair is especially messy today. Levi sees a twig and several metal shavings stuck in it. They peer at Levi through thick glasses with huge, enthusiastic eyes.

“I’m not curious, no.”

“But your abilities, they’re - “

“They’re the reason I’m still alive. The strongest, biggest, most vicious dog survives, right? I’m good at killing because I had to become good at killing. If I wasn’t good at killing, I wouldn’t be alive.”

“But you cannot be sure you don’t have something extraordinary about your physical body that - “

“I have tried this myself, Hange, and he is a closed book. If Levi doesn’t want to talk about his family, then don’t you think we should allow him his privacy?”

Erwin emerges from one of the supply huts, closing a notepad and tucking a pen into its binding. He looks, as ever, unmoved by the heat. Hange slumps against the trunk of the tree, tugging at the gear straps across their chest. They’re even riper in this weather. Levi shifts away slightly.

“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough?” They offer.

“Maybe you should mind your damn business.” Levi says. He contemplates standing, walking towards the bathhouse, ridding himself of the layer of sweat and grime pressing against his skin, and finds himself lacking the energy to do so.

“You’re not curious then, Erwin?”

“Of course I’m curious, however I think at this time it is enough to just be grateful for Levi’s abilities. He’s chosen to help us; we shouldn’t push it.”

“Finally, you’re talking some sense.” Levi mutters, pressing the flask against his forehead at a last-ditch attempt at cooling himself down.

“You always look so put-together Erwin. You haven’t even unbuttoned your collar.”

“I’m in correct uniform.” Says Erwin simply, touching his collar and then dropping his hand. 

“No one here gives a shit about that but you, Blondie.” Levi drawls. It’s true. Shadis usually looks as much of a state as the recruits do after their first mission.

“If this heatwave continues I might see fit to give you the afternoons off.” He muses. 

“Let me guess; we start three hours earlier?”

“It’s not like training does you much good anyway. At this point it is mostly useful for getting the squad used to your talent than actually honing your skill.”

“You’re gonna give him a big head, Erwin.” Hange observes absently, fanning themselves with their own notebook.

“Correctly-placed confidence in one’s own abilities can go a long way to developing them.”

“Jeez, do you ever just talk normally?” Levi grumbles, his arm slung over his eyes, feeling distinctly like he’s being bothered by particularly persistent flies.

“No, he doesn’t. He’s always been like that. Well, you loosen up now and then, don’t you Eyebrows?” Hange laughs.

“Eyebrows?” Levi asks, peeking out from behind his forearm.

“Erwin got drunk once and told us that the kids at his school used to call him that.”

“Pft. I wonder why.” Levi says.

“It’s not a particularly inventive nickname, but creativity isn’t usually a seven-year-old’s strong suit.”

“It suits you.” Hange says.

“And what is it that Levi calls you?”

“Shitty-glasses.” Levi supplies, still confused as to why he is participating in this juvenile bickering instead of bagging a shower before the rest of the soldiers take all the good soap.

“Yes. Astute. Rolls off the tongue.” Erwin teases.

“He only got more serious the more responsibility Shadis gave him. Back in our days as recruits, he had a much more lively sense of humour.”

“I haven’t lost my sense of humour, I just exercise more self-control.” 

“I suppose after so much death it’s expected that we’d all get a little glummer.” Hange says lightly, and the awkward atmosphere that Levi expects to descend at their words, doesn’t. He hasn’t before contemplated that Erwin and Hange are old friends, or at least as ‘old’ as you can get in the Survey Corps. 

“Not all of us.” Erwin says pointedly. Hange winks at him. 

“I try to see the fun in things.”

Maybe that’s why Levi can put up with Hange, despite how much their personality clashes with his own: they are optimistic, and genuinely so. They are a refreshing burst of energy and interest in a regiment full of the jaded and the terrified. 

“Levi, go wash and eat. Make sure you don’t get dehydrated. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Erwin says. It’s an order, but it rings with concern.

Whatever, you’re not my mother, Levi almost says, before choking back the words and instead sighing heavily and pushing himself to his feet. 

“Yeah, fine.” He says, leaving the shade of the tree, blinking in the evening sunlight that slices across his eyes at an angle. 

“Bye Levi! Thanks for humouring me!” Hange says, teeth bared in a wide grin.

Erwin looks at them with fond exasperation. As Levi passes him, he sees the sunlight glow in his cheeks, catching in his eyes, stretching out his shadow. Golden hour makes him look less severe and more peaceful, filling in the curve of his nose, the wheat of his hair. The sight of him is...pleasant.

Levi is struck then with a bizarre thought: he is handsome. That is why women pay for his time. Because he is good-looking, and they want him to touch them.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but for some reason it hasn’t occurred to Levi. He’s been considering Erwin’s funding tactics in the abstract, at the end of a dark well, in the pit of the ground, with all of the horrid and hurtful and depraved things that cling to it, without thinking of the other side. What could a noble woman get from Erwin that’s worth all that; his ideals, his standing, his intelligence, his attention?

He’s handsome. That’s what. For all he teased him about his nose and his eyebrows, he is traditionally attractive, and it seems absurd to Levi that he hadn’t really noticed. 

Who cares. That’s his burden. He’s like a walking piece of military propaganda, the bastard.

He thinks about how beautiful things break, how they tarnish and rot. Erwin’s like a flame on a candle wick. Levi thinks about greedy hands trying to capture him before he’s snuffed out.

That night, Levi dreams about Isabel, with her huge eyes and her high voice. He dreams about her flying, shedding feathers, screech-laughing at the clouds, gliding between Levi and a lunging titan and then hanging limply in its jaws, her flesh for his flesh. A debt he can never repay.

000

It’s been almost a month and they haven’t made enough financial headway. Shadis talking about money in the weekly meetings is beginning to sound as repetitive and irritating as a woodpecker making its way through an endless tree trunk. It doesn’t help matters that the upcoming expedition will be very dangerous, longer than usual and with much more at stake, and so there is an anxious energy to the compound as they drill the same manoeuvres again and again and wait for the announcement. Erwin has had enough. Inaction is a disease and he will not get comfortable in complacency.

He spends almost half his time in Sina now, along with most of the other higher-ranking officers. People call in favours, hassle family friends, Erwin and Shadis write proposal after proposal and send them out in every direction like leaves in a stream. Shadis grafts for an invite to every important event within Mitras, and hands out the invites like conscription slips. They even take Levi to a couple, despite how fervently Erwin wishes to keep him out of the firing line of the nobles’ attention. He performs valiantly, which is to say, he stands in the corner and glares for the whole evening, but he doesn’t end up in gaol, and so Erwin counts it as a victory.

On their way back to the compound, Levi keeps looking at him. When Erwin shoots him a questioning look back, he glances pointedly away. Only when they are alone again, outside, heading for the barracks does Levi mutter under his breath “I don’t know how you stand it.”

Levi watches him a lot now. It feels probing. During another planning session, in the oppressive heat of the evening, Erwin had unthinkingly unbuttoned his shirt collar. A less observant man wouldn’t have noticed the way Levi’s eyes flicked to and from his throat, but by the time Erwin remembered the mark Harriet had left, it was too late. Distant, constant surveillance is Levi’s priority now, apparently. Erwin is beginning to get sick of it. He knows he doesn’t like mess, or dirt, or intimacy, but Erwin really expected him to react with more sympathy, or at least more understanding. He was foolish for thinking that, he sees that now. He has disgusted Levi. He has shattered what tentative respect was building between them. He took a gamble on trust and it fell through, and he has only himself to blame. He could live with it easily, with Levi’s new discomfort, if he would just stop watching him.

And now he has to push harder. He has no room for doubt or regret. He’ll do what needs to be done to get this expedition underway, and if it is successful, they will have something to show for all the money spent and lives lost. If it is successful, raising funds for the next won’t be so difficult. If it is successful he will be one step closer to the truth, perhaps to becoming commander, and once he is commander he can use the full extent of his abilities, he will make them believe in the fight with his words, he won’t have to - 

For years he has drawn the line. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and the emotions of others are messy and unpredictable, and factor poorly into his strategies. He treats the nobles he visits with passion and intimacy, but with enough carefully-crafted distance to implicitly separate it from a real relationship. Now, with a breakthrough just out of reach and time running out, he has to resort to more desperate measures.

He won’t lie. He knows, in a way, the whole thing is a lie, but he won’t speak falsehoods to women at their most vulnerable. He wants to avoid tangling the web any further, so instead of words of love, he makes them feel it. He traces the lies against the inside of their thighs, transfers them on his tongue, affirms them in the afterglow. Women in love are more likely to want to make him happy. Women in love are surprisingly more likely to help send him to his death.

“Come here, captain, there is something I would like to show you.”

“You have eyes like sapphires. My father bought my mother a sapphire, once…”

“When you touch me there, I feel like I’m flying.”

“If the titans take you away from me, I will join the Scouts to kill them all myself.”

It is draining. He barely sleeps. It’s important to maintain the facade and so he sometimes stays in Sina, in a pseudo-stranger’s bed, until the early hours of the morning, listening to her talk. When he does finally collapse in his own bed, he feels phantom fingertips on his skin, tugging at his hair, pressing into his shoulders. He tastes strangeness and splendour. He can hear the breathy whispers of many voices, begging him not to go, promising him everything he wants. He begins to disgust himself.

Shadis seems pleased. They don’t have to pay for food at all after Erwin makes enough merchant families happy. If Erwin isn’t available to train his squad, Shadis gives the job to one of the other captains, who complains about Erwin’s preferential treatment. He even offers Erwin the use of a carriage to take him to and from town, but Erwin refuses. If he didn’t have the walk home, alone, a stoic and silent creature beside him, he thinks he’d go mad. If he isn’t mad already.

One afternoon he receives a letter from a noble’s daughter who had insisted on taking him out for dinner the previous week. The letter implores him to visit her while her father is away, and in order to keep up the act, Erwin has no choice but to accept. He had planned on spending the day with his squad and the evening with Hange and Levi, working through some new information they had come up with about titans, but instead he has to see his investment through to the end. He leaves without a word to anyone but Shadis, the burden of guilt heavy in his stomach as he thinks of Hange’s confusion and Levi’s revulsion at his empty room.

He spends the evening listening to her read, soothing her woes about being despised by her friends, and offering her comfort until her tears are of pleasure and not of pain. Thankfully she is so exhausted by the end of it that after a sleepy promise of gold, he manages to get away.

HQ sits couched and quiet as usual at night. Levi is on the roof again.

“Busy night?”

“Yes.” Erwin says. He is not in the mood for Levi’s biting talk. He wants to take his suit off. He wants to brush the pomade from his hair.

“You get that money you’re so desperate for?”

“Yes.”

Levi watches him take his horse into the stables. When he has taken off her tack, brushed her down and refilled her feed, he goes back outside into the night to find Levi leaning against the tree.

“It’s after hours, Levi. Do you need something?”

“Did that pig tug you too hard? You look fucking miserable.”

“I’m tired.” He heads for the barracks. He hears Levi following a few paces behind.

“You’re no good to us tired. We need your damn head if we’re even gonna survive the mission you’re trying so hard to pay for.”

“I will be fine tomorrow. I’m sorry that I had to miss our meeting. I will apologise to Hange in the morning as well. This came up, and couldn’t be avoided.”

“I don’t care about the meeting. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to fall into this habit.”

“Haven’t you fallen into this habit?”

“I’m not spending the evening with some vile heiress with more money than sense.”

“I feel so trapped, captain. Stifled. My father doesn’t understand me. None of my friends understand me. Only you understand me. I wish I could be with you always. You make me feel alive”

“You don’t have to. Be grateful for that.” Erwin snaps. He immediately regrets it, but keeps climbing the barrack stairs, leaving Levi to stew in silence for a few moments.

“What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I told you. I’m tired.”

“Then sleep better. Go to bed instead of Mitras.”

“I can’t. You know that.”

“I don’t see how it can all fall onto you.”

“Because I’m the only one who can do it.”

“That’s conceited.”

He turns to fix Levi with the full force of his exhaustion. He must look a little terrifying, because the unshakeable man looks slightly taken aback.

“Levi. I appreciate your silence, and whatever strange form of concern you are trying to express, but please, leave me alone. I cannot face your disdain any longer. I am worn out. Let me do what is necessary, and save me the derision, and then we can just get on with doing our job.” He says, firmly, coldly, barely-concealed anger bubbling. Levi raises a thin brow over his hooded eyes. Erwin wants so badly to trust him. He cannot explain why.

“We can’t do our jobs if you’re worn out. You should cut yourself some slack.”

“How about you cut me some slack instead?” Erwin spits, stalking off towards his room like a petulant teenager, shutting the door more loudly than he normally would at this hour. 

He doesn’t even have the energy to feel guilty for snapping at Levi. He peels himself out of his clothes, cleans himself all over at the basin, and collapses between his sheets, dreaming all night of lipstick marks, bloody like the mouths of titans, and a clock ticking over a fireplace.

Chapter Text

There are two kids who hang out behind the brewery; brother and sister, Levi assumes, with toothy grins and scuffed knees. They don’t seem to have a home other than the five crates they’ve hollowed out and stacked together, there in the back alley where the pipes belch out the smell of hot yeast. He doesn’t understand why they’d pick this place, a place of drunkards and filth, when there are bakeries and residential areas and further out of town, abandoned barns, to squat in, until one day he sees the brewer taking the garbage out and turning a blind eye to them as they scamper away to hide. 

Levi drops by when he can. He doesn’t listen to their noise or engage in their nonsense - they’re kids, and he’s awkward around children - but he brings them whatever food he can take from the mess hall and makes sure they’re still relatively healthy. The boy’s leg got an infection before summer started, and Levi paid for the doctor to treat him. They’re local rascals; thieving and snitching and smuggling and otherwise causing nuisance, but they treat Levi with some kind of mature respect, especially after the boy’s leg got better. 

If they were orphans of the Underground, living on the dingy streets below, they would have either died or been stolen by one of the gangs; sold to perverts for the hour or used as mules. Up here they have a chance, he tells himself. Up here, he isn’t wasting his time and money feeding them and keeping them alive, because they have sunlight, and more safety than below. Up here, it is worth having hope for them, even if it is a small, disgruntled hope. 

At the back of his mind, he knows that it doesn’t matter; that a lost cause has never stopped his weak heart hoping before.

Today he has managed to wrangle some cakes, or what passes for cakes in the Scouts. They don’t look like the ones in the windows of shops, instead they’re dense and all one colour, with currants appearing with every bite like flies. They’re alright. It’s a break from the rest of the savoury food, anyway. Levi took some extra and drops them now into the girl’s hands. There are three, so they squeal and fight over the spare.

“Split it.” Levi commands as he leaves, waving a hand over his shoulder. They don’t say thank you. They never do. Why should they?

He’s got a rare day off and needs to refill his stock of soap, figuring he could treat himself to something more thorough and fresh-smelling than the bland, sterilised smell of the standard issue or the vaguely-jasmine smell of his preferred alternative that Hange smuggled for him. He spends a not unpleasant hour browsing, alone with his thoughts and for once feeling a semblance of peace. It’s still hot out. He pulls up his hood to shield his eyes from the unrelenting sun.

“Excuse me, are you a member of the Survey Corps?” 

He turns. A woman. She is out of breath, and dressed in servant’s clothes.

“Yes.” He says, indicating to the wings of freedom with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, what luck. I was going to send this via the outpost office, but if you’re heading back to base, perhaps I could just give it to you? It's urgent”

She holds out a letter. It has a fancy wax seal. Levi sours at this new duty of errand-boy. 

“Who’s it for?”

“Captain Erwin Smith?”

The cloud above his head dissipates, replaced by hot curiosity. 

“I’m in his squad. I can give it to him.”

“Would you? That would be so helpful, thank you!”

“Why is it urgent?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it. It’s only to be opened by the captain.”

“From who?”

“Camille Weber.”

“Right.” The name means nothing to him, but he never did pay attention to social politics.

“Please get it to him as quickly as you can. And don’t read it yourself. Thank you!” She says, and makes to leave. Levi tucks it away under his cloak.

“Oh,” she says, “Are you...Levi? Humanity’s Strongest? Only, they say he’s quite short, and -”

“No.” Levi says, and stalks off to his horse. 

In his room, he stares at the envelope on his bed, cream against the green of his discarded cloak like spilt milk. He could memorise the seal, break it, read the letter, melt the wax again and attempt to carve it back into its original shape. He’s done it before. It takes time and precision, but he has both. He wants to know what is in the letter. He wants to know what this woman he has never heard of has to tell Erwin urgently. At the same time, he thinks perhaps he’d be better off not knowing. They’ve established that what Erwin does after hours is none of Levi’s business, and aside from the concern that his lack of sleep might affect his judgement, Levi doesn’t care what he does, anyway. 

Curiosity burns like a fever through him, his self-enforced apathy no match for it. It brews bitter in the pit of his stomach. His eyes itch. He glares at the offending document.

He reaches for it and flips it over. The seal is a complicated crest. He’d have to draw it out. He also suspects that his previous experience in this area might not fool Erwin. He’s irritatingly perceptive. He might well notice a difference where others would just rip the letter open.

And there’s this thing again, this tug, the chord attached to his captain’s saddle, telling him to come along, to behave himself, to dedicate his heart. Against all reason, his primary cause for hesitation is that he is averse to breaking Erwin’s trust. If he reads the letter, Erwin would probably find out. Erwin would trust him even less than he does now, after Levi keeps putting his foot in it again and again and making him more stressed than he already is.

It’s his job to keep a level head. It’s not my fault that all his foul play has got him in a mood to match.

Then again, if there are problems that Erwin isn’t telling him because of the recent...tension between them, Levi might be able to help. If Erwin is being blackmailed, Levi could silence the perpetrator. If Erwin is being threatened, Levi could threaten them back. If someone means the Scouts harm because of Erwin’s actions, Levi could handle it alone without Erwin even knowing. It would be one fewer enemy, and one fewer thing for Erwin to worry about.

He tucks a clean fingernail under the wax seal.

What if it’s a love letter? Then all the effort and risk would be for nothing. What if the bastard has knocked up some lord’s wife and this is his comeuppance? What if it’s sappy, or boring, or makes Levi sick with memories? What if it’s something bad, and there is nothing he can do?

If he wants to save humanity together, he has to start telling me things, otherwise we will always be working at odds, just like before.

000

A sharp twinge along a tight tendon in his neck tells Erwin that he’s been sitting at his desk reading for too long. The heat is still hanging over HQ, the unreachable sun sapping the energy from everyone on the training field and lacing lethargy into those at work within. He stretches his shoulders and rubs at the sore spot, changing position to carry on with the document in front of him when the door opens.

Levi enters unannounced. He looks annoyed, but that’s not out of the ordinary, and so Erwin choses to read it as neutral.

“Good afternoon, Levi. Do you need something?”

He should probably apologise. He probably should have opened with an apology, but it’s too late for that now. He shouldn’t be shouting at his subordinates when Levi was only trying to express concern in his own, cold, circuitous way.

Levi stalks over to his desk and drops an envelope in front of him. It’s wax-sealed. He crosses his arms.

“Some woman in town gave it to me. Said it was urgent.”

It doesn’t bear his name - she must have specified. So, something discreet, then.

“She came up to you and told you to give it to me? Why?”

“Don’t ask me. She said some Camille woman wanted it delivered urgently.”

“Camille?” He hasn’t seen Camille Weber in almost a year. They write occasionally, but it is normally delivered through the post, not via Scout. 

“She some woman of yours in the city? She got a vault full of money we can use to kill off a few more farmers’ boys?”

“She’s an old acquaintance. I can’t imagine what she would want…” 

He opens the seal and unfolds the letter. The hand is shaky. 

Captain,

I’d like to thank you for your compassion, your wisdom, and your companionship over the last two years. Randal never did understand me like you did, and when I was with you, it soothed my heated head. I looked forward to your letters with an enthusiasm that is otherwise absent from my daily life. You have made me, as much as is possible, comfortable and happy, and I am so grateful for you taking the time to see me when you could.

This will be the last letter I write. The pain is too much again, and I cannot keep waiting for you to rescue me when I know you will not.

All my love,

C 

A cold knot of dread coils in Erwin’s stomach. Camille is flighty, absent, prone to bouts of misery and mania. She has always been too much for her husband, who married her for her family’s wealth, and she has recently gained a reputation as a recluse. The few times that Erwin visited her were mostly spent talking, her troubles intangible and abstract, and then she would fall asleep against his chest and he would stroke her hair until he could extract himself without waking her. She used to ask him to call her Millie, because that’s what her mother had called her when she was a child. He tentatively considers her a friend. He had no idea how isolated she felt.

He rushes up from his chair, marching out of the door and pulling his coat on as he leaves, not even sparing Levi a glance. If he takes the quickest horse and doesn’t stop until he reaches the Weber Estate, he might just make it.

000

By the time Erwin gets back, it is night. He swings open his door, shoulders slumped, and hangs his jacket on its hook. Levi is waiting for him.

He’d read the letter. Of course he’d read the letter, when it had evoked a reaction like that. He has no idea what this woman is to Erwin, but the last two sentences were enough of a warning sign, and when it comes to despair, Levi can read between the lines.

Erwin goes to say something to Levi, then decides against it. He opens his desk drawer and takes out an unopened bottle of whiskey. He prises the cork out and pours some into his empty water glass. Levi doesn’t move from his position, leaning against the wall in the corner, ensconced in shadow.

Erwin takes a drink and examines the golden liquid, catching what little light there is in the room. He looks tired.

“I thought alcohol wasn’t really your thing.”

“Allow me my vice this evening, then.”

“It’s a slippery slope for people like us.” People like us…

“You’re right there.” He finishes the glass, looking like he gained no relief from it. Levi watches his throat work as he swallows.

“Is she dead?”

“Yes.”

“You were too late.”

“By an hour or so.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

“It is. It’s my fault. I should have delivered the letter to you quicker. You should have had a head start.”

Levi doesn’t know this woman; this mad, unhappy rich woman who probably ate more for afternoon tea than Levi got in a week in his childhood. If he hadn’t deliberated reading the letter, if he’d taken it straight to Erwin, maybe she’d still be alive. Maybe Erwin could have done something. Maybe he could have warned her family. In the wasteland of Levi’s heart, there are only so many people he can afford to give a shit about, and he finds himself distantly regretful but ultimately uninvolved at the thought of causing another death. However, he would like the guilt, not to repent, but so that Erwin doesn’t have to feel it. If he can take this one death off Erwin’s shoulders, he would like to, even if that means caring about some noblewoman he’d never met.

Erwin sighs. It’s a sound Levi doesn’t think he’s heard from him before.

“It is done now.” He pours himself another drink and Levi finally moves, crossing the wooden floor to sit in the spare chair; his usual chair.

“There will be an inquiry. They’ll want to know how I knew. They might even insist on reading the letter, if I tell them there was one, that is. This is unpleasant enough as it is, and they will drag it out to find someone to blame.”

That someone will probably be me, is what Erwin doesn’t say.

“You were her friend. You were concerned, that’s all. Your timing was just coincidence.”

Erwin smiles a little bitterly. “I wonder if they would buy that.”

“You’ll sell it like you always do. It’s a damn annoying talent but you seem to be able to convince anyone of anything.”

“Thank you.”

As is customary when faced with Erwin’s gratitude, Levi wants to throw it back at him, claim he wasn’t trying to be nice and pay him a compliment. It doesn’t feel right to do that now, in this death-dampened room, cushioned by night, with Erwin more vulnerable than Levi has ever seen him.

“What did she give us?”

Erwin looks at him. Levi feels an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach, and decides that the safest option is to resort to his normal protocol of trying to get a rise out of Erwin. He doesn’t want to make him hurt exactly...no, it isn’t that. It’s just...mildly thrilling that Levi can make him pause, can make him question, can rupture the perfect surface of him. Levi sees his humanity, gets strangely drunk off it, probes it for weak spots.

“She was one of your noblewomen, right? So what did she give us? What are we getting as a reward for you comforting a woman who wanted to die?”

Erwin looks back down into his glass. “Leather. She...she got us cheap leather.”

Levi snorts. “So my boots were bought through your ability to empathise.”

“I couldn’t empathise.” Erwin says, without looking at him.

“No?”

“No. I could sympathise, but understanding…” He knocks back the rest of his drink and drops the glass heavily onto the desk. “I never understood it. We cling to life here. Survival is a privilege, and it’s our primary drive, the most useful and productive instinct we have in the Corps. What’s the point of this, if not hope for the future? Making a better life. Paying for past mistakes. Getting answers to questions we’ve been told not to ask. And she…”

Erwin’s gaze unfocuses, staring into the middle-distance. The moonlight from the window catches in his eyes. Levi watches him think.

“She didn’t care. She didn’t feel any of it; the passion, the drive, the desperate struggle. She didn’t want answers, she didn’t care about the future, and she had no interest in what’s beyond the Walls. She had a slice of paradise, and it poisoned her. She wanted nothing. She felt things irrationally. She fought a war in her head and as a result, lost her will to survive. It terrified me; that discrepancy. I’ve seen men tremble in the face of certain death, thinking of ending it all themselves. I’ve seen men wishing they’d never been born into this world. But it’s all terror and rage, all roaring despair. She felt none of that. She slipped out of life. She unhooked herself and drifted away. It…” He breaks away, his eyes sliding shut. “It terrified me.” He repeats.

Don’t think about it, Levi wants to say, wants to shout, We can’t afford to think about life that way. We don’t have the luxury of a slow, quiet end. There is enough horror out here without getting into what goes on in our heads. 

“She was ill.”

“Yes. She was. She has been as long as I’ve known her. I didn’t know it was so constant, so terrible all of the time. She must not have known peace. I didn’t think she would kill herself. The thought never crossed my mind.” He sounds angry with himself. It isn’t as rewarding as Levi thought it would be a few months ago.

“Did you know she was in love with you?”

He shakes his head. His eyebrows draw together. For a moment Levi cannot imagine that the man before him has a capacity for humour. Traced in hard, dark lines behind his desk, thinking about another death he couldn’t prevent, it’s so easy to forget that he’s joked with Levi. That he’s smiled and seemed to find it easy.

“Surely you thought that might be a risk?”

“Of course, but our time together felt...indulgent. Not desperate. I thought she had other people. I thought she just needed someone different to listen once in a while…”

“You fuck the feelings out of her? Or into her? You thought someone that vulnerable wouldn’t pose a problem? To herself? To you?”

“I didn’t - “

“Didn’t think?”

“Didn’t sleep with her. That wasn’t what she wanted from me.”

Somehow, that is worse. Levi doesn’t know why, but selling love rather than sex seems even more degrading. The awareness left his mother’s eyes, usually. She wouldn’t be a person, just a thing. A body is a body, and you have the right to use it as you see fit. Feelings, though. That’s more dangerous, more delicate. It makes him hate Erwin more. It makes him pity him like he didn’t before.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Levi says, without thinking about it too hard.

Erwin nods, smiles ironically, without humour. Then he looks Levi in the eye and says “If I had got there in time, if I had been able to do something, this whole situation would have been much more complicated. Her husband would have asked questions. She would have expected things of me, demanded them, perhaps. It is cleaner this way, with her gone.”

It is chilling: the wall of pragmatism coming up again, the coldness therein. Levi is reassured by it. Erwin’s steadfastness, his reliability, his ferocious drive, is the foundation of Levi’s trust in him. It trembled for a moment, and now stills back into place. He is inhuman again, and Levi gave him the opening to revert. 

“I’ll vouch for you, give you an alibi if anyone accuses you of anything. She got what she wanted, and it seems like she was grateful to you. She wouldn’t want to see you dragged over the fire for this.”

“I appreciate that.” He drops his forehead to his hand, rubs at his temple, takes a deep breath. He re-corks the whiskey bottle with one hand and drops it back into the drawer, shutting it, the thud a loud finality.

“Get some sleep, Erwin.” Levi says, standing. He’s not sure if he’s been of any use this evening, but after reading the letter he felt he couldn’t stay away. Erwin loosens his tie and slips it over his head. Sliced through with moonlight, he deconstructs himself. Levi is possessed with the new, bizarre desire to touch him; to put a hand on his shoulder, or shove him in the chest, just something to solidify him once more, build him back up to the man his mind made him out to be. He doesn’t. He goes to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Levi.” Erwin says.

“Yeah.” Levi replies, and leaves for his own room.

000

Erwin gets two days to think about Camille, and how his actions guided her end. Two days before another invite arrives. A party, this time. Even Shadis isn’t invited. He will have to be on his best behaviour. 

When he was a child, his father told him that being grateful for what you have doesn’t mean you have to be content with it; the emphasis being that both humility and ambition were important attributes to cultivate. He takes this to heart. He doesn’t let the dust settle. He advances forward as he always has, and does not regret his decisions.

A good leader delegates, but does not shift blame. Gaining Levi’s trust has been invaluable in the field, but Erwin begins to think that he is drawing him too close. He doesn’t want him getting caught in the crossfire, and he doesn’t want him shouldering any of the burden that should be Erwin’s alone. He took this role upon himself, he chose this life and then dragged Levi into it, and he alone is responsible for the fallout of his decisions. Levi doesn’t deserve to feel guilty about things entirely unrelated to him.

So, he gradually reinstates the distance. It isn’t enjoyable - Levi’s company is enjoyable - but it is necessary. He stops asking Levi to come to his room. If they need to discuss strategy, they do it during the day, in the field or alongside Hange and Mike in the mess hall. If Levi notices their relationship is changing, he doesn’t say anything. For that, Erwin is grateful.

The nights become longer - endless planes stretching out ahead of him - and the days pass in a hot haze. What little time he doesn't spend training his squad or entertaining in Sina, he spends pouring over formation plans, re-evaluating the budget again and again, writing permission requests to the Premier’s office, and planning recruitment drives. He choses Forris’ replacement - a girl of sixteen showing particular promise. Hallie, her name is. She smiles widely at him when he asks her, and dedicates herself to perfecting her form. He has high hopes and deep dread for her.

The days begin to blur. Shadis says he’s pushing himself too hard, but throws it out as an off-hand remark instead of an actual reprimand. He is pushing himself too hard, but he is getting results, and Shadis cannot afford to be kind on that front. He starts eating at his desk. He increasingly falls asleep in his clothes. 

He goes to the party, and for once really wishes he wasn’t this man, in this position, doing this job. It’s an intimate affair; five noble couples, already drunk when he arrives. There is a section commander from the MPs there too; a pretty young woman with inky hair and bright blue eyes. She introduces herself to him as Garrett, seemingly unwilling to tell him her first name, even though he could find it easily if he wanted to. They take his coat, but he doesn’t know where they put it. The room he’s shown into is heavy with fragrant smoke that he recognises as opium.

He’s well-trained, and self-disciplined. He’ll play nice. He wonders why Garrett is here, since the MPs generally want for nothing. Perhaps someone is blackmailing her. Perhaps she has ambition and this is an easy route to the top. She is polite but unfriendly. When one couple call her over, she slips on a very convincing smile.

Erwin is passed around like some rare trinket, from one conversation to the next. The nobles have consumed enough intoxicants to be loose-lipped, breaching the usual routine of not talking about the arrangement in uncertain terms. Erwin is courteous and amiable, answering their questions and humouring their drunken antics. He normally reserves judgement, and does not consider himself highly-strung, but he finds them vile. Rarely has he ever felt so averse to a social situation. He wants to leave. He doesn’t want to keep the act up anymore.

He comes to realise that for the first time, he isn’t in control here. In each conversation, the couple brings up how much money they have lying around, naming a figure that they would be willing to give to the Survey Corps if they could be persuaded that it was a worthwhile investment. He finds that, on completing a lap and returning to a couple he has already spoken with, the figure has gone up. 

They are bidding on me.  

He glances at Garrett, fresh and lovely in the hazy lamplight. He wonders what they are offering her, how they can try and outdo one another when it can’t be money she is after.

He drinks enough of the offered alcohol to settle his stomach and ease the tension in his shoulders, and receives his final bid. It’s a huge amount. Erwin doesn’t know what this couple wants from him, but if they’re willing to offer that, he is hesitant.

That would push us over the line. With this sum, the expedition is assured .

He’s not an actor, hardly a performer at all, and if they ask him to do something degrading in front of all of them, he’ll be on his horse and back at HQ before they’ve even got up from their seats. But they don’t ask that. The couple who have won him take him into an adjoining room and speak to him more intimately, like pretence was lifted as the fabric divider was dropped. It’s hot in this room. There are a lot of cushions and throws.

The woman, the wife, has a jewel-studded comb in her hair. She speaks with a nasal voice and asks him questions about his hometown that make him uncomfortable, but that he answers nevertheless. Her husband watches him with beady eyes, the light from many candles reflecting off his balding head. He licks his lips approximately twice a minute. He rests his hand on his wife’s knee.

“Is it lonely in the Scouts, Erwin?” She asks.

“No. I am surrounded by comrades who I respect and admire.”

“Do you keep each other from being lonely, then?” He asks, with a telltale glint in his eye. Erwin picks up on the innuendo.

“It has been known to happen. There is no rule against it.”

“What about you? I hear most Scouts are quite mad. Are there any strong, exciting, mad women that you like in your regiment?”

“It would be inappropriate for me to engage with a soldier below me in rank.”

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “Of course, but you must look, yes? You must think about it.”

He doesn’t, actually. He hasn’t. The drive is not there. He is so busy. Physical intimacy is work, now.

Give them what they want and they will give you what you want.

“Of course. I’m only human.”

“All that muscle. I bet some of the women could throw you around. Do you like that sort of thing?”

He has a ridiculous thought of when he used to train with Nanaba and she’d kick his legs out from underneath him and he’d laugh up at her from his position on his back in the dirt. He then thinks about arm-wrestling Mike for a bet in the tavern one night, of Hange hugging him too tightly when he’d given them their ‘lab’, of Levi washing the blood from the bare skin of his chest. He does feel something then; an ache for his friends, for closeness with his comrades, for a connection to the big, abstract reason for doing all of this. It makes it more difficult to play along in this dense, close room with these people he doesn’t respect.

“I could be persuaded.” Erwin answers.

“What about a real woman? Isn’t the contrast more pleasing? Softness against hardness?” She speaks in low, lilting tones, trying to sound sensual. Erwin finds it patronising. He pastes on a smile.

“I don’t have a preference either way. There is beauty to be found in all women.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman.” She throws back her drink, dabs the corners of her mouth with her fingertips. Her husband watches Erwin still. He blinks back calmly. 

He thinks of flesh in the abstract. The meat of a thigh mangled by too-big teeth, the sheen of sweat over skin, fingers hanging limp like stalactites over the edge of a corpse cart; post-people, non-human, something empty. Nothing to cry over. Or a means to an end: the creases around a mouth, the boat-bow of an arched back, grabbing, hungry hands. Like separate, functional parts of a whole. Fragments he recognises. Easy to parse and utilize. Like his own.

It’s a trade. Everything is a trade. This life for a stretch of untouched grass. Tonight for tomorrow. This bit of him for the next year. A concession in expectation of gain. What do you have to trade when you don’t have a future? What good is delayed gratification when there is no time to waste?

The man doesn’t touch him much. After his wife collapses onto Erwin’s chest, spent and exhausted, the man brushes her hair from her face, and from Erwin’s eyes. He traces the lines of Erwin’s throat down to his voice box. He presses there; enough to be felt; a small strangling. It is an expression of reserved, easy dominance. Erwin stares up into his eyes and feels his veil slip, feels the hatred leak out. The man must see it. He smiles back; all malice and satisfaction. He gets hard off it. Erwin can see, because they’ve all stripped down to their underwear. 

They say they’ll send the money over within the week. She kisses him once he’s dressed again, and bites at his lips hard. Her husband shakes his hand and continues to look at him too intently.

He tries to snatch what sleep he can, but he keeps feeling the pressure of a hand on his windpipe, the scratching of nails down his chest, the way she yanked off his belt like she owned him. His head is swimming with alcohol and he wants so badly to wash himself, but he doesn’t have the energy. After several hours of staring at the ceiling, trying to compartmentalise, he gives up and drags himself over to his desk. He scans the budget breakdown and begins reworking it to account for the extra money he has secured that night.

000

Levi buys the kids some new shoes. He’s never had money before and now he’s above ground and the Corps provide most of his necessities, he isn’t really sure what to do with it. So he gets the cobbler to make some shoes and drops them off on his way back to HQ.

“They’re too big, but you’ll grow and they ought to last longer than a year. Stuff ‘em with something.” 

The little girl snatches her pair and scurries off. The boy gives Levi a second look, in a break from tradition.

“What do you want from us, mister?”

“Huh? Nothing. It’s not like you kids have anything I’d want anyway.”

“Oh. Then why do you bring us stuff?”

“Because I have stuff spare and you brats don’t always look after yourselves.”

“Nick says nothing is free. He says you want something. Everyone wants something.”

“I’m not bargaining here with you, kid. Take the shoes or don’t; I don’t care. I can’t be taking you to the doctor every month because you got an infection running around barefoot.”

The boy looks like he’s trying desperately to put two and two together, but maybe the hope in him hasn’t died yet. Levi doesn’t like the implications of this Nick’s words. In order to demonstrate that he really doesn’t want anything in return, he leaves without another word.

This fucking sun. I can’t believe I fought for so long to get up into it and now it makes me want to bury myself in the ground again.

He’s on foot, walking back to HQ, and stops by a stream. His palms are sticky, and the water looks clear, so he dips his hands in. The cold relief slips between his fingers. He lifts a palmful and catches a flash of his own eyes in the reflection before washing his face.

They have an expedition coming up the following week; another minor surveillance mission that is designed to have minimal casualties. Sometimes Levi thinks they exist just to stop the men getting restless, or the brass thinking they’re being complacent. The previous time they went beyond the Wall, Erwin was with them in the run-up, training non-stop for days at a time, honing their trust and communication abilities, a stoic support from the treeline.

Levi hasn’t seen Erwin in days. He hasn’t spoken to him since the last meeting they had with Hange. He hasn’t spoken to him properly since the night Camille Weber died.

Something’s wrong. Levi figures it’s the outpost mission. It must be gearing up, Erwin must be working tirelessly. He doesn’t eat in the mess hall anymore. He looks less perfect, which is Erwin’s equivalent of dishevelled. Levi wonders if it’s on account of the work that he’s so obviously absent, or if he is deliberately distancing himself.

He thinks ‘what good do you think that will do, fool’, before realising how hypocritical that would be. 

He’s putting the mission at risk with his actions. Levi is loathe to admit it, but Erwin is right about trust. The team functions because they understand one another, and Levi sees that now. They’ve made vast improvements since Levi started begrudgingly cooperating, and now he’s almost entirely integrated, as much as it bruises his stupid pride, they’re getting better and better. But Erwin is a part of the balance. Without him taking the lead, the squad is thrown off-kilter. This personal withdrawal he’s going through is bad for his team. 

But he should know that. He should see that. He should care. He does care.

Then it’s something serious. Then the work is overwhelming him. Then his late-night visits have started taking their toll. Levi doesn’t go to the stable roof anymore, doesn’t need to when he’s trying not to think too hard about where Erwin has been once he returns, but he imagines that the meetings haven’t stopped. In fact, since the expedition draws closer, they’ve likely increased.

He dries off using his cloak and pushes his hair out of his face, blinking up at the sun. It makes his eyes water, but he endures it, tries to imprint the feeling of warmth and light onto his memory, in case it’s taken from him again. That’s one of Levi’s worst traits; he is greedy. When he gets something, he grabs it with both hands and keeps it close, because he can’t escape the feeling that someone is going to take it away from him. It doesn’t make sense; he should be used to loss by now.

He wishes Erwin would just talk to him; put aside his hero complex and just be honest with his men. Levi isn’t good with words, but he can’t shake the thought that maybe he could help. Maybe he could shoulder some of it, for the sake of the squad, the cause, the Scouts - whatever. What does he expect to gain from shutting himself up in his damn room day and night, undoing all the hard work they’ve put in? It’s irresponsible. It’s self-indulgent. 

Why am I even worried about it? He’s made of fucking stone. He doesn’t need a cup of tea and a gossip, he needs to pull himself together or we’re all going to die .

000

The rasp of a razor over his chin tells of the days it’s been since he last shaved. He hasn’t been able to find the time, but if his appearance deteriorates, he’ll lose a valuable weapon. 

He draws the razor along the plane of his left cheek. He hasn’t left this room in three days. He can’t. There is still work to do.

He wipes the blade off on a cloth, moves to the next strip, pulls the skin of his face taught to catch every hair. He feels the lure of fresh air, of exercise, the whir of his gear, but won’t concede to it. A desk and a bed; that is where his battles are fought now. He’s more useful here.

He slides the razor along his chin, sticking to the contours. He’s very tired. He looks tired, he thinks. Shaving will help, but his eyes look sunken and weary. How has it come to this? Perhaps he should take a day away from HQ. Perhaps he should decline this weekend’s invitation. He’s going to grow weak, and then what good will he be as a soldier?

He washes the razor off in the basin, watching the foam float to the surface. He imagines his squad resent him. Perhaps they think he’s slacking off by neglecting to train them. The truth is, they can train one another, but he must fight on this front alone.

He shaves his right cheek, carving out the line of his jaw in skin and soap. Just a little more. No spot left untouched, no purse unprobed. They’re so almost there. Then he can stop. Then he can rest. Then he can regain the feeling in his limbs and wash the touches from his chest.

He cleans the blade once more. He thinks about how hair grows back, like titan limbs. He thinks about riding out into the field having not trained in almost a fortnight. A death sentence, surely? And he isn’t like Camille. He is willing to die, but he doesn’t want to. He should work harder on assuring he doesn’t. He still has too much left to do.

He doesn’t like lying to Mike. He doesn’t like rebuffing Hange’s concern. He doesn’t like the silence with Levi.

He takes up the blade again. He has to save his mind. He has memories that can’t be written down, or even spoken, but that must be preserved. If he dies, they die with him. He can’t allow that. Then it would have all been for nothing. He needs to get out -

He nicks the skin under his nose and flinches. From the nearly-invisible cut, blood pools and spills in a fine trickle down to his lips. He blinks back at his reflection from what feels like fifty meters above.

Not yet. Still a bit more. Then freedom. 

He dabs at the cut until it stops bleeding and shaves the rest of his face with more care and precision, trying to let his mind go blank. When he is done, he feels different, but he isn’t sure in what way.

Chapter Text

“Be quicker on the drawback, or the forward momentum will throw you back into its path.” Levi shouts up at Keiji, spinning around the back of a huge tree. 

“The Captain says we’re to pause here to make sure we struck right!” Keiji yells back.

“Yeah, well he’s not here, is he?”

“Does that put you in charge?”

“Since I’m better than all of you, yes.” He counters, irate. Keiji rolls his eyes, but clearly agrees with Levi’s assessment. Levi likes his pragmatism, although he’s not been particularly charming in the face of Levi’s breakneck promotion. The rest of the squad disperse and reset. The new girl, Hallie, basically a kid, restocks her training blades like she’s been taught to.

“Does The Captain not normally train with you?” She asks, genuinely curious, not knowing how it will grate on Levi’s nerves.

“Yes. He normally would. He should. He’s decided not to grace us with his presence for this mission’s training. Take it up with him yourself if you don’t like it.”

“Oh! It’s not that at all, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. I just wondered if - “

“He should be here training with us, especially since you’re new and you need to properly integrate if any of the old formations are gonna work, but instead he’s decided to spend another day holed up in his room doing god-knows-what with all that paper. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Ok, I see.” She says. He has made a bad impression. Who gives a shit. She’ll be dead in a few days anyway.

He watches as she flies. She’s quick and agile, but lacking brute strength. Not an exact replacement for Forris, but it could work. Her movements are almost joyous. She likes using the gear. She is eager to impress, to prove herself worthy of Squad Erwin. It makes Levi angry.

You picked her. You gave her this death sentence. She’s basically a child and you won’t even give her a chance of surviving because you’re not willing to train her properly. I thought the whole point of these stupid exercises was to build trust, and how can we trust you when you just leave us in the lurch like this?!

He doesn’t wait to see how the formation plays out. He does his part and then lands heavily back on the ground, stalking off towards the barracks, succumbing to the quickly-bubbling rage.

Blind faith is for idiots. You get the respect you earn. I’ve put up with this long enough.

He must look like an approaching storm because when he runs into Hange on the stairs, their eyes go comically wide.

“Woah, Levi! Where are you going? Are you alright?”

“Out of my way, four-eyes.”

They block Levi’s path and he closes his hand in a fist, before realising that he probably actually wouldn’t hit Hange. Huh. Who’d have thought?

“You look mad. What’s happened?”

“Erwin’s ditched training again. I don’t care how damn important he thinks he is, people are going to die because he’s staring at numbers. I wanna hear his excuse.”

He goes to leave, and Hange grabs his arm. They actually grab him, with their unwashed hand. He’s so shocked that he just stares at it.

“He’s working really hard, Levi. You’re frustrated and he’s tired. If you go up there now, you’ll just scream at each other and nothing will be solved. Calm down first.”

“I think I have a right to be a little frustrated. He’s putting us all at risk because he’s in a mood.”

“'In a mood'?! Do you not know him at all? If he’s not fulfilling his duties, don’t you think it’s because he has something much bigger and more important to work on?”

“What’s more important than stopping our men from dying?”

“I don’t know, Levi, but we have to trust him. You do trust him, I know you do. You have to accept that he can’t tell us everything, and he’ll do what he needs to for the sake of humanity.”

“Well he shouldn’t push himself so damn hard then! If he can’t handle it, he should be smart enough to see that and not overwork himself when we need him!”

“He has a lot of responsibility! More than he should, I’ll admit, but without his work, we’re doomed, so we just have to support him!”

“He can’t expect support when he locks himself in his room, away from his real responsibility.”

“He needs help, not anger, Levi.”

“I’m happy to provide both.”

“You feel betrayed, I understand - “

Levi rips his arm away from them, snarls like Kenny used to, eyes flashing. 

“Don’t you dare blame this on me. What I 'feel' is none of your business, and has absolutely nothing to do with this. This is about him, not me. All I give a shit about is not watching anyone else get eaten unnecessarily. That’s all, Hange.”

“Fine. Then trust him, if that’s all it’s about. He can handle it.”

“What if he can’t, though? He’s too damn proud to ask for help, and I’m sick of it.”

“He’s always pulled through in the past - “

“You don’t know. You don’t know anything.”

Hange looks like they’re on the verge of losing their temper, for the first time since Levi met them. 

“Do you think I’m stupid, Levi?” Hange’s many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. “I do know. Of course I know.”

Levi’s shoulders retract as he slips onto the back foot. “What?”

“I know what Erwin does for us. And I know that you know. And I know that’s why you feel you have this extra special responsibility to save him from himself. But you’re not the only one who sees him struggle. You’re not the only one who cares about him, and I can promise you, you do not know him better than me.” Their voice is low and even. It makes Levi feel immature for losing his composure. 

“Why...why haven’t you done anything, then? Why haven’t you said something?”

Hange sighs. “I don’t want to add to it. It wouldn’t stop him, anyway, if it’s furthering our cause, and he’d just worry about me worrying. He doesn’t...he doesn’t know that I know. He never told me, I just figured it out. Sometimes I think he suspects, but we have an unspoken agreement not to add to each other’s stress. The best I can do is trust him, and get him what he needs.”

“What he needs is a damn break. What he needs is to do the job he signed up for, and not be sold to every fat fuck in Sina so they can play their sick games.”

“Shh!” They say frantically, yanking on his arm again and pulling him into a storage closet, slamming the door behind them. There isn’t much room. The shelf behind Levi digs into his shoulder blades as he attempts to put some space between them. At least they don’t smell that bad at the moment.

“I know he’s important for you.”

“He’s not.”

“I didn’t say 'to', I said 'for'. He is important for you. He brought you here. He’s basically all you have, I get that. He’s grounding, reassuring. It’s not pleasant seeing someone so controlled and strong like this. I feel the same. But charging in with smoke coming out of your ears isn’t going to help. Being angry with him will make it worse, don’t you see?”

“Well what are we supposed to do, then?!”

“I tried talking to him, but he said he was busy and dismissed me. I don’t want to wade in any further uninvited. But you can. He’s told you, there must have been a reason for it. He trusts you, I suppose. Perhaps you could help. But you have to stay calm, and not get wound up because you can’t parse your own feelings on the matter.”

Shut up about my fucking feelings, Levi thinks. “What do I say?” Levi says.

“Express your concerns - calmly - and then ask if there is anything you can do to make it easier. He’ll say no, but then maybe there will be an opening to get him to explain what he’s struggling with.” Hange draws back, wrinkles their nose. “Erwin doesn’t struggle. It’s out of character.”

“I’m not...good with stuff like that.” Levi says through gritted teeth, still reining in his temper.

“So what is your alternative? Screaming some sense into him? Hitting him until he gets it together?”

“No, I…” The anger ebbs. He feels foolish, kicking and shouting like a child.

“None of us are unbreakable, Levi.” Hange sighs, opening the door and stepping back out into the corridor. They blink behind their glasses in the brighter light. Levi feels something tight in his chest towards them; respect, perhaps. Affection, even. Damn it.

He does want to hurt Erwin. It’s a desire in his gut that rears its head at times like these when he’s frustrated with him, when it becomes obvious just how much Levi relies on him. It doesn’t feel active though, like he wants to attack him, more like a defence, like the urge to get the first hit in to protect himself. 

He wants to hurt Erwin, but he doesn’t want Erwin to hurt. And if anyone else tried, he would kill them.

Hange doesn’t say anything else, just softens their expression and indicates to Erwin’s room. Levi feels the fight drain out of him at the prospect of talking.

He makes it to the door. Hange’s words hit him with a delay; “you’re not the only one who cares about him”. He thinks of Hange and Erwin teasing each other in the sun, the easiness there, the lack of fear, and he feels foolish all over again.

He should knock, but he never knocks. He lets himself in, instead.

Erwin’s room is so stuffy, it’s like a wall of heat hits him in the face. Erwin looks up from his desk in surprise. He shouldn’t be surprised. The breaking of a habit already has him forgetting things.

“Levi.”

Levi shuts the door pointedly, leans against it, crosses his arms. “Erwin.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes. Our squad leader hasn’t been showing up for training.”

Erwin’s lips press into a grim line. His hair doesn’t have any product in it. It falls softly over his brow. His eyes are tired. 

“I’m busy Levi. I trusted my squad to take responsibility for themselves.”

“Even the new one?”

“Especially the new one.”

“The mission is in two days and you haven’t been on the field in two weeks. You wanna be titan food or something?”

“I have more important matters to attend to; matters only I can resolve, whereas I’m sure you and Keiji are more than competent to bring Hallie up to speed.”

“Not so sure about Keiji.” Levi says, laced with humour, deliberately trying to lighten the mood. Perhaps it works; he was never that good at picking up on social subtleties. Erwin blinks at him placidly and then goes back to writing.

“Look, this is ridiculous. You need help signing shit? Or...I don’t know...writing letters? You barely leave this room.”

“Thank you for the offer, Levi, but I am quite alright.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

“You are standing in the doorway. I am here behind the desk. The view is different. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know that, you just don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Levi, but I really am busy. Please shut the door on your way out.”

Levi bites back his anger and takes two pointed steps into the room. Erwin, for once, looks exasperated by his disobedience. Levi feels a small flicker of triumph.

“Fine. You do your work. I’m gonna clean in here; it’s disgusting. If they peel your body off the foot of a titan and assign this room to whoever comes next, they’ll be inheriting all of your filth.”

“Levi - “

“You don’t want it to be cleaner in here?" He glances pointedly at the cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling, as if to make his case. "I won’t say anything to you; I’m not one for small talk.”

He walks across the room, holding eye contact with Erwin the entire way, goading him. He unlatches a window and swings it open, letting in a faint summer breeze and the sound of birds. Erwin blinks, his jaw a little tight, but he says nothing. Levi takes it as a victory.

He leaves to collect his supplies and when he’s returned, Erwin is back at the paperwork and doesn’t even acknowledge him. Levi gets started.

He spends the first hour dusting; clearing every surface, burying the corner of his duster into every crevice, standing on chairs to catch at the cobwebs, tossing the lint out of the window. Then he scrubs the floor, polishes the woodwork round the walls, the handles of the cabinet and desk and wardrobe, the mirror above the basin. Then he bleaches everything else and wipes the lamp cases clean. He beats the dirt from the rug and even gets on his knees and cleans the fireplace. Every swipe and sweep lifts the tension a little, like clearing out the clutter in the atmosphere as well as the room. By the time he is done he is sweating and exhausted, his muscles burning in satisfaction, and things feel lighter. 

He sweeps the last of the dust off the windowsill and takes the handkerchief off his face. Erwin looks like he’s fighting a losing battle with his eyelids.

“At least you won’t get sick now.” Levi says softly.

“That’s something. Thank you.” Erwin concedes, resting his chin in his hand, blinking down at the paper with determination.

Watching him struggle to stay awake does something to Levi. He feels an unfamiliar twinge in his gut. He thinks of Erwin as ageless, but all of a sudden he’s young before him. 

“You gotta stop working. It’s going to kill you before I get the chance to.”

Erwin doesn’t quite smile, but his tired gaze is perhaps warmer. 

“All this shit you're doing for the expedition won’t be worth it if it costs us you, you know that right?”

“I’m replaceable.”

“You’re not. Only you think that. And only you won’t have to face the consequences if we do have to replace you, so I think it’s fair to say that your opinion on the matter counts for nothing.”

“I’m sorry for letting you down, Levi. I never should have burdened you with this.”

“You haven’t burdened me with anything.” Levi says, cursing how he’s so awkward he can’t even look at Erwin as he bends around him to collect his papers together. Erwin’s so drowsy that his reaction is delayed, sitting upright and looking confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking after you, since you can’t do it yourself.”

“I can - “

“Bullshit. You’re exhausted. You’re effectively useless. I don’t care what I need to do as long as you stop resisting.”

He stacks the papers carefully, putting the letters in one pile and the official forms in the other. Erwin just...watches him do it, defeated. Levi takes the pen out of his hand. 

“I think you should go to bed, get some rest. Tomorrow you should come to training and boost morale, make them think they’re not riding blind. And take a break from your evening engagements. They’re compromising your leadership.”

“Did you tell the others?”

“What? Of course not. I’m not spreading that shit, I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Thank you.”

“And stop thanking me. I’m doing this because you’re my squad leader and you’ve made it so I have to. If you wanna show you’re grateful, get it together, captain.”

Erwin looks at him for a long moment and concedes with a nod of his head. “I didn’t know you felt my loss so keenly.”

“What, did you think we’d all be glad of the lack of supervision and bunk off?” Levi scoffs, rolls his eyes, “You’re our coordinate, Erwin. We’re fucked without you there.”

It feels strange to say it, not because it isn’t true, but because Levi spent a large portion of his first few months in the Scouts denying it. To give it voice now, to speak it plainly, feels like both a relief and a defeat.

“Right.” Erwin says distantly, thinking again, bleary-eyed. “I’m sorry, Levi. I’ll come to see the team tomorrow, and apologise to them also.”

“Good. And if you...you know, if you do need help with boring stuff, I’ll do it, if it means you’re not dead on your feet.”

Erwin nods, stands slowly, leans on the desk, sighs again. Levi is glad no one else had to see him weary like this. After their previous conversation in this room, he at least is somewhat prepared. 

“It does look nicer in here.” Erwin says mildly, looking out of the window with something like longing. Levi rolls his eyes, can’t resist giving him a shove on his shoulder blades. 

“Bed. Now.”

“It’s only the afternoon.”

“My guess is you didn’t sleep last night. You look like shit.”

Erwin chuckles at that, takes off his shoes, undoes the top three buttons of his shirt and goes to wash his face. Levi catches sight of marks, the imprints of teeth, along his collarbones, red and bruising. He battles with a wave of unexpected nausea.

He wants to make sure his orders are obeyed, so he watches Erwin clean his teeth and then dab at a spot just beneath his nose.

“What are you gawking at?”

“I cut myself shaving.”

“Huh, you really must be out of it.”

“I can’t see it, but I can feel it. It stings with the soap.”

Why does this keep happening? Levi thinks in exasperation.

“C’mere.” He marches over and yanks Erwin’s face away from the mirror to scrutinise the spot. He can’t see anything. 

“Here?” He presses his thumb where Erwin had been prodding, and Erwin’s facial muscles jump.

“Yes.”

“It’s tiny. If that killed you, I’d laugh all the way through your funeral.”

“I don’t think it’s a problem, I just wondered at how I could feel it but not see it.”

“Well, not from up there you couldn’t. It’s hidden in the shadow of your huge nose.”

“My poor nose, again?”

“Mn.” Levi grunts. He realises that he is just...holding his face now. The cut’s a tiny pink line: he can’t help with it. He’s just touching the skin above Erwin’s lips for no reason. He can feel his breath against the inside of his wrist. He can hear him swallow.

Maybe he’s missed seeing him up close. Maybe he’s missed being in his space, watching his body work and his mind think. Maybe it’s comforting to see him softly, through the gauze of his own eyelashes.

“It won’t kill you.” Levi says finally, a little hoarse. He lets Erwin go. Erwin straightens up and goes back to washing, combing his hair out of his eyes. Levi feels like he’s lingering.

“Go to bed. If I find out you haven’t, I’ll break your pen hand.” He throws the threat over his shoulder as he leaves.

“I’ll consider myself warned, then.” Says Erwin.

Two days until the next expedition. Levi stares at the bunk above him, hears the usual snores and scratching, his stomach and mind full. The last expedition he went on, he wasn’t nervous. The one before that, he was nervous for other people. It is strange how things bounce back, come back around.

Kenny had said that it’s hard to care, that it’s difficult and stupid to be soft in a hard world, and you’ll just get killed for your troubles. He taught Levi that it’s better, easier, more convenient to be cold, and to not give a shit about anyone other than yourself. That’s the lie Levi told himself for twenty years; that it was easier.

It isn’t easier. If it was easier, he’d do it. Levi went out of his way to be distant, disinterested, even cruel, and still he slips and falls into the age-old trap of other people. It’s so hard not to give a shit, and Levi is so tired.

000

It’s so damn hot that there are mirages wavering on the horizon, convincing Levi’s horse it’s getting a drink when they have hours to go yet, chasing the false promise of water always a few steps out of reach. 

How appropriate, Levi thinks.

Things have been better in the squad since he cleaned Erwin’s room. The Captain has spent time with them again, taken his position at the front of the formation in training, been strong yet understanding in the face of the low-level terror that always precedes an excursion. He looks less tired. He keeps his shirt buttoned all the way up and Levi shows he is grateful to have him back by not acknowledging the change to save face for both of them.

He sees him up ahead, hyper-focused, coiled like a spring, flare gun in hand. There are four squads out on this mission, and the rush of wind against Levi’s face as they stream through titan territory is the only relief from the stifling air that he’s gonna get. They fan out across the plane and head for the hills. It’s risky; the high ground means they’ll see titans coming, but aside from some old, crumbling buildings, there is nothing to grapple onto.

Squad Scholtz are up ahead, looping round the hills to secure them from the other side, supported by Squad Gershin. Levi watches Hange stream away from them, eyes big and grin bigger. They wave at Levi as they peel off.

The hill is deserted, so they station lookouts around the circumference. Levi perches against a clock tower. Below, Mike and Erwin are talking over several maps, all different, layered over one another.

After an hour, people are getting twitchy. Levi’s fingers cramp on the trigger of his flare. He’s sweating in his gear and the straps make breathing in the hot air even more difficult. He glances at Hallie on a rooftop a few buildings over. She’s red in the face, but looks determined to maintain her professional composure. Keiji tosses Lauda a flask of water.

They hear the footsteps before they see them. Everyone jumps to attention at the rumbling, the ground shaking. Levi scans the surrounding curve of land, but can’t even see any birds stirring.

Someone on the other side gets there; a red flare straight up into the vein-blue sky. Squad Erwin zip together instantly, locked in formation. Erwin arrives at the head of them, astride his horse.

“Two coming from the South. Abnormals. The backup squads will engage them. We have what we came for, so let’s move out.” Erwin calls out, voice booming off crumbling stone. Most of the squad doesn’t need to be told twice, vaulting down onto their mounts. Levi does a quick scan of the skyline.

The thought buzzes around his head like a fly; Hange. God fucking damnit.

Hange’s seasoned, trustworthy. He meets Erwin’s cold stare and jumps down to his own horse.

Erwin fires off a yellow signal: retreat. The ground reverberates with the sound of one crashing through a building; lunging or killed?

They take off down the hill. The sound of the abnormals has attracted others; small ones, four of them, between three and five meters. Levi and Erwin’s eyes find each other.

“Keiji and Margot on the right, Levi and Samuel on the left. You two, stay in formation.”

Levi’s hooks find the five meter’s eye. It’s small and not very strong. Levi almost loses his balance on the way down. He gives a nod to Samuel, who felled his no problem, strong with new sense of purpose and confidence. Margot missed, but Keiji swings round to support with the ease of practise.

The minor delay has a knock on effect, however. An abnormal from before emerges from behind the hill, huge and horrid, its neck turned at an odd angle. There’s blood around its mouth. Squad Gershin emerges from the other side of the hill with Squad Mike. Levi feels stupidly happy that Hange’s among them.

“Squad Scholtz got the other, but only Clement made it out.” Gershin shouts over to Erwin. A whole squad gone, for some numbers on a piece of paper. Clement rides with this foreign squad, white and trembling. 

Erwin absorbs the information, nods, faces forward again.

“What’s its behaviour like?”

“Erratic. Unpredictable. Slightly more intelligent than normal. It’s fast, Erwin.” Gershin replies. Levi looks round, possessed by some indefinable instinct. 

The titan retreats behind the crest of the hill for a moment, and then charges.

It’s on them in a matter of seconds. Two of Mike’s new squad, bringing up the rear, are kicked twenty meters into the air, their skulls shattering on impact. Someone screams. Margot is only just in time to distract it from one of the newer soldiers and then its eyes are set on their squad.

“Peel off! We’ll deal with this! Make a break for the Wall!” Erwin yells. Gershin immediately obliges. Mike looks more reluctant, but eventually concedes.

When it lunges for Margot again, missing her by inches, Levi pushes himself out of the saddle and grips his triggers automatically. He hesitates, for only a second, wonders why, and then realises.

Fuck it.

“Erwin! Let me take it out.”

“On your own?” Erwin twists his head round to look at Levi, primed like a loaded canon, fizzing with angry energy.

“Yes. I can do it. Please.” It’s not a drilled formation, but Levi is asking permission. That has got to count for something.

“Please, Erwin!” Another swipe. Margot is almost knocked from her horse.

“Alright.” Erwin says, voice as full of conviction as ever. Sweat streams from Levi’s hair and he blinks it out of his eyes. The titan is between him and the sun now. Judging distance is difficult.

Doesn’t matter. No time to think.

He just goes, slipping into that bloodthirsty frenzy bubbling under the surface as if it were a hot bath, looking for openings, for grappling points, and finding them, zeroing in on them.

The titan stops to focus on Levi and the others stream off into the distance. Levi is breathless with adrenaline but his hands are steady and his grip is sure. He dodges the monster’s swings and loops around to strike his neck. The titan drops to all fours, twisting its head round further than any human could, looking at Levi with its huge, empty eyes. He carves them from its skull and slices off a grabbing hand. Finally: a clean shot. It’s over in seconds, then, but Levi is panting when he lands back in the saddle.

He can see his squad up ahead. The sun is setting, which means they’re less likely to encounter titans, but they’re also at risk of getting lost, or missing titans if they do come upon them. He rides hard, grateful that the heat is waning. 

They reach the gates with only one more encounter, and no more casualties. They lost a whole squad.

But no one from mine; he allows himself the thought.

Erwin turns to count numbers as they file in, and doesn’t seem surprised to see Levi approaching from the rear. His squad cheer for him when he catches up, which he could do without. 

“Well done, Levi! That was amazing!” Says Margot, smiling as if there was no death today. It takes Levi a moment to remember that he had probably saved her life.

Once they’re within the second wall of the compound, Erwin hands his reins to a recruit and turns to Levi, dismounting. 

“Are you injured?”

“No.” 

“Good. Well done.”

Erwin did well too. He kept his head, didn’t insist on doing everything himself, and didn’t fall off his horse with exhaustion, or forget which flare to use, like Levi was genuinely concerned he might. He nods and heads straight for the bathhouse.

Washing the sweat and grime from his body under a cool stream of clear water feels like a religious experience after summer expeditions, apparently. He washes his hair twice and makes sure his nails are clean before leaving.

After a dinner with his squad, talkative and giddy on their own survival, in which Erwin was notably absent, he thinks Erwin wouldn’t revert back now the expedition is over, would he? He wouldn’t schedule a city visit for tonight, when he’s given everyone else time off, right?

He has to check. He goes to Erwin’s room silently, as if he’s afraid of being caught, like anyone could do anything to stop him if he was. Like he’s trying to hide the act from someone. Like he’s sneaking into Erwin’s room in the evening and doesn’t want anyone to find out, even though it’s something he’s done many times and has every right to. As always, he lets himself in.

It’s dark. He’s not here. He’s slipped out through the gates under Levi’s nose, against Levi’s orders, in spite of Levi’s threats. He could kill that man. He’s going to kill that man, if he doesn’t beat him to it.

“Levi?”

He doesn’t startle, but his eyes do flash to the corner with alarm. Erwin’s sitting in the shadows, on the edge of his bed. He was looking at something, but slips it beside him out of view. 

“Oh, so you are here. Figured I might catch you in the act.”

“No, I was just resting.”

“Good. Is that why it’s so dark in here?”

“I lost track of the evening, I hadn’t noticed the dark.” He says, reaching over to light the lamp on the bedside table. Levi shuts the door.

“Are you working?”

“I was reading.” He says, and then quickly adds “For pleasure.” When Levi raises his brow.

“Anything good?”

“I’ve read it before.” That’s what’s next to him. That’s what he’s obscuring. Levi will leave him his privacy, but then...

“It was one of my father’s books.” Erwin offers after a moment’s silence, to Levi’s surprise. Erwin himself looks surprised that he said it, teetering on the edge of a decision and allowing himself to tumble. “One of the books that got him killed, actually.”

“What?”

Erwin lifts the book into the candle light and examines its spine. “Mmn. This is one of the few he kept hidden well enough that the MPs didn’t find it. I recovered a few from our house before I sold it after his death.”

“Got him killed?” Levi finds himself walking over to the bed, peering down at the cover. He can’t read it.

“I don’t understand what it says.”

“Neither do I. It’s not in our language. It’s old, sure, but not that old. Isn’t that strange?”

Levi sits down next to him while Erwin flips open the book. The pages are full of text that is unintelligible.

“How were you reading this?”

“I use ‘reading’ laxly. I was looking at the pictures. See?” He opens it to a double page of illustrations. One is of a huge, grey animal, drawn with birds for scale. Its nose looks like a snake: long and strong, but wrinkly and coarse instead of scaly. Its ears are like a titan’s ears, attached roughly onto its proportionally smaller head.

“What the fuck is that?”

“I don’t know. This word here, I assume, is its name, but I can’t read it.”

“It's like a book for children. That thing can’t be real.”

“Perhaps, but it might be. This language isn’t our own, and this book isn’t old enough to have rotted or discoloured. These animals could well exist, somewhere beyond the Walls.”

Levi looks at his face. There are no lines of surprise or awe there, but there is a glitter in his eyes.

“That’s why they killed my father, because he asked questions like that, about the Walls and what happened before them. About whether it really has only been a century since the titans emerged, and if so, why are there no records from the generations before us who would remember the Walls being built?”

“The MPs killed him for that?” Levi’s head whirs. He’s thought about it, of course, The World Beyond, but never with so much in his grasp, never with any sense of immediate urgency, or hope that he might actually find out. History was a passtime of storytelling, that had no place in his fast, harsh life. But now, in Erwin’s room, lit by candlelight, he opens the windows of his mind and wonders what if…

“I killed him too.” Erwin says, too casually. “He told me these theories at home, away from other children, and I didn’t infer that it was because they were dangerous. I told others. I was excited. I wanted my friends to share my excitement. Word got out. They came for him after that. They said it was an accident while he was travelling, but even as a child, I knew.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“Fuck.” 

Erwin laughs a little at his response, and traces his fingers over the drawing of the grey animal.

“I have questions that need to be answered, Levi. Do you see now?”

He does see, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. 

“Yeah.”

Levi watches his finger, stroking the page like a lover, like something beloved. His father - Levi had no idea - he’s never considered Erwin’s childhood. The image of him, unfinished, helpless, without a father, with a head full of noise and this drive - like Levi. He was like Levi.

“Why did you tell me?” the unspoken ‘after what happened last time’ hovers between them. 

“Are you going to tell the MPs?”

“Tch.” Levi spits. “Those pigs are worse than your nobles.”

“That’s why I told you.”

He could have kept his mouth shut. He didn’t have to give him this glimpse. It’s more than trust, it’s like - 

It’s like he wanted to share it.

Levi, used to scraps, never keen on asking for more, is knocked off balance by this thing that Erwin has given him so casually, this glimpse into his reason; not-so-noble, not-so-altruistic. He’s selfish, then, at least a little. 

“Sometimes I like to take his books out and look at them, like this. It makes me feel like he’s still here, somehow, that he survived me and my stupidity. And now, I’m carrying on his work, so perhaps it’s - “

Levi can’t stand it any more. He can’t stand Erwin humanising himself, peeling back the layers all at once like it’s nothing, like he’s happy for Levi to see what’s underneath. Levi hates him for it, for becoming less-than-perfect. Even as he comes to the realisation that it’s what he wants from Erwin - that it was there in the attempts at getting a rise from him - that it has always been what he wants from Erwin, he still hates him for it.

There’s a moment of confused space, like the blankness of a blink breaking up his vision, and somehow he’s moved forward without thinking. He’s in Erwin’s space, aggressively, and thinks wildly that this is it, that’s he’s going to hit him, going to finally make good on his promise to kill him, but his hands have a different trajectory. One thuds against Erwin’s shoulder, poised in a fist as if to strike but with no strength behind it. The other stays planted on the bedsheets between them. Levi presses the side of his face against Erwin’s, cheek-to-cheek, in a desperate and ridiculous attempt to stop him from talking.

He completely forgets himself. It’s like another man is wearing his skin. He feels Erwin’s face warm and smooth against his own, his mouth by Erwin’s jaw, his breath dusting over Erwin’s ear. It is maddening to touch him. It is terrible.

Erwin has frozen halfway through his sentence, suspended in shock, and it is the light intake of breath he hears from him that roughly inserts Levi back into his body, and he realises what he’s done. He just wanted him to stop talking. He was, perhaps, in his own clumsy, ineffectual way, trying to offer Erwin Smith some comfort.

He pulls back like Erwin’s cheek branded him.

“I - forget it.”

“Levi.” Erwin says. Levi can’t see him. Levi can’t see anything. Panic sets in.

“Stop. Just forget it, I’m going - “

Erwin grabs his wrist as he draws it away. His grip is strong enough to hurt a weaker person. His eyes burn, brows drawn together like he’s sad, like he’s in pain. Every single instinct is screaming at Levi to bolt. He’s hot with embarrassment, and anger, and something else. He can feel the blood in his face.

“No - I didn’t -  “

“Levi.” Erwin says again. So sure. So steady.

Levi does nothing, frozen in shame and shock, all of it directed inwards, betrayed by his body, by the one thing he knows he can always rely on. Erwin moves. He moves slowly, giving Levi a way out. He’s getting closer. Levi’s muscles all turn to rock. He once again thinks he’s going to punch him.

He doesn’t punch him. He sits tight and tense and lets Erwin press their cheeks back together, lets him hold his chin in his too-big, too-warm hand, lets him smother him with his presence, lets him turn his face towards his own, lets him kiss him.

Erwin does nothing without precision. He doesn’t align their mouths exactly, like you might kiss a family member, he tessellates them, so even though the kiss is short and restrained, even though Erwin barely moves and Levi doesn’t at all, by reception alone, it is intimate. Levi’s eyes slide closed of their own accord, unthinking and helpless. It’s still and gentle, but Levi can feel everything like his nerves are working overtime; the shape of Erwin’s lips, the faint texture of a day’s stubble growth, the warmth and wetness beyond that should be repulsive, the steadying, guiding hand on his jaw. 

The chord, that damn chord-like thing in his chest, stretches, goes taut, hums like the plucked string of an instrument. Levi can’t breathe.

Erwin draws back after what feels like forever but could only have been a few seconds. Levi gapes at him incredulously, before remembering to close his mouth properly. Erwin looks...proud?

“You did well today.” He says, smooth and soft, it makes Levi tremble but he’s not sure if it’s rage anymore. Erwin’s thumb brushes across his chin. He feels… spent. “It is wonderful knowing I can trust you, not worrying that you’ll die on me. You are unstoppable.”

Levi hates definite terms like that. Nothing is unstoppable. No one is unbreakable.

Levi’s still frozen in shock when Erwin stands and takes his father’s book across the room. He drops to his knees and Levi watches him lift a floorboard hidden behind the bookcase and slide it inside.

When he turns around, his expression is mild and considering. Levi hates him all over again, for being so composed, for doing these things like they don’t have consequences, for always being a step ahead.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I lost myself.” 

“You can say that again.” Levi manages, forcibly relaxing his posture, scrambling for the armour of nonchalance.

“Thank you for coming and checking on me. I really am alright.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just glad you didn’t sneak off to Sina without telling us.” He says.

Erwin smiles. He looks handsome in the low light. Levi feels his stomach twist with resentment. 

“I’m gonna go. I’ll tell Hange you’re taking some rest. They’ve been worried about you too.”

Erwin nods grimly, like he knows. Of course he knows .

“Goodnight, Levi.” He says. 

“Yeah. G’night.” Levi mutters, shutting the door, letting out a deep sigh once he’s safe on the other side; a rush of breath held hostage for the last few minutes. His heart still thuds. His fingers twitch. His mouth feels weird. He goes straight back to his room. He’ll tell Hange in the morning.

Obviously he cannot sleep. His hand on his stomach rises and falls with his breaths, his lungs filling, expelling, his heart beating in tandem. Alive, still. Despite the odds. He stares at the familiar barricade of wooden slats of the bunk above him. 

You did well today.

Of course he did well. He always does well. Killing is the only thing he’s good at, he doesn’t need Erwin to tell him that. 

He kissed him. What the hell?! ‘You did well today’, and he kissed him like that’s normal, like he wanted to, like that’s what Levi invited when he blacked out and touched him. 

Erwin’s eyes don’t waver or flicker. They are blue and fierce. Levi has never been afraid to meet them. 

He thinks about the cut under Erwin’s nose, the way he tilted Levi’s head to kiss him, how Levi went boneless, and let him. He just...let him…

He doesn’t like having people touch him, really. It is jarring and unfamiliar. It makes him aware of his vitals. It coils him tight like a frightened animal. Erwin touched his face, touched his mouth, and Levi just sat there and let him.

Erwin is not afraid of touch, although Levi hasn’t really witnessed him giving it out readily. He does give it out. Levi knows this. But under certain conditions, with certain promises echoing in his ear. Erwin’s body is barely his own; it is the figure on the stage, the blonde hair and green cloak at the head of the formation, the strong, beautiful thing of flesh that those people in the city touch and tug at on a whim. Erwin’s body is somehow both professional and sexualised, and Levi has a convenient mental block on account of the latter, never actually thinking about what those women do to him, never wanting to consider Erwin in that light.

The small, soft touch of lips has ruined that for him; shattered it like canonfire through a beer barrel.

He thinks about Erwin’s hands; big and steady and calloused, fingers wrapped around a pen, cleaning his gear, firing his flare, closed in a fist across his chest in a salute. He offers his heart, his mind, his body; what is left? Levi thinks of Erwin’s hands on his shoulder, on his face, gripping his wrist, wrapped around his blade that day in the rain. 

You did well today.

A slow, creeping horror enters Levi’s bloodstream, realisation dawning. If Erwin’s body is a commodity, another tool in his arsenal, that he uses in exchange for furthering the cause, why would Levi be any different? Out there beyond the Wall, Levi hesitated. He never hesitates. He felt compelled by some innate drive to ask permission, to follow procedure, to do as Erwin ordered. He’d obeyed. He’d killed the titan and saved the squad and hadn’t lost any limbs in the process.

A night spent resting, a quiet and clean bedroom, a secret from his shadowed past, a kiss which perhaps Levi asked for - you did well today.

It was a reward, then. Erwin is doing what he’s trained himself to do - to give tenderness, fake affection, a glittering glimpse of his golden attention, in exchange for helping him further his goal.

Levi feels sick - thinks he might actually be sick - scrambles from his bunk and climbs out of the window, heading for the roof, dragging in air to combat the sweeping nausea.

He’s one of them. Erwin thought - he was trying to...he thinks Levi is one of them...he thinks he can be bought. He thinks Levi is paying for him with his ability, with his trust, with his loyalty. Erwin thinks, consciously or not, that Levi would ever want his body like that, as a fee for his services, like - like…

Anger sits comfortably on his shoulders like a well-worn coat. The turning of his stomach becomes rage; an emotion much easier to identify, harness and feed. He can feel Erwin under his fingertips, so takes out his knife and presses its fine blade under his fingernails, getting rid of him, of everything that might have come off him and latched onto Levi. His eyes burn as he draws blood. His hands shake. The nausea recedes and crashes like a battering ram against his gut. 

No. Never. Not like them. I’d rather die. I’ll kill him if he ever tries again. 

Chapter Text

“Why do you go beyond the Walls?”

“Because I believe that it is better to confront an ugly truth than live under the cover of a beautiful lie. That is the freedom beyond the Walls.”

“And that is your destiny? The uncovering of an ugly truth?”

“Destiny is made, not given. It is my dream. It is under my control. It is what keeps me moving.”

“And it is worth everything?”

“I believe so.”

“Your life? The lives of your comrades?”

“If necessary, yes.”

“Your conviction is stirring.”

“I can’t doubt for a second.”

“Can’t doubt...huh…”

“What is it?”

“You missed an option. Surely it is better to live under the beautiful cover, not knowing that it is a lie? ”

He doesn’t know why he is thinking of Camille now, in a carriage on the way to their final preparation meeting with the Premier, sitting in awkward, stoic silence with Shadis. There is a lot to sort through when recalling conversations he’s had in noble houses, so he is surprised that this one returned with such clarity.

The cobbled streets of Mitras are a flurry of activity. Erwin watches the shopfronts and houses pass and thinks again about kissing Levi.

“Remember, Smith, be evasive. Don’t get into the gory details. State the facts. Present him with the stats, and he will have no choice to approve. We’ve met the goal anyway. As long as we keep momentum up in the next few weeks, we can roll out before the season turns.” Shadis says once the carriage stops. He climbs out and stretches his spine. He seems to be perpetually stiff and tense. Erwin wonders if he will be like that when he is commander.

“Of course, sir.” He says. They’ve been over it. He knows the drill. Still, there is a chance that Zackly will refuse them because they have been honest in their projected casualties. It’s a big risk, but to have an outpost would be…

“We’re early. Wait in the antechamber for me, I’m going for a piss.” Shadis says. Erwin obeys, like a good soldier, looking at the line of chairs in the reception room and instead choosing to stand. The Premier’s offices are bold and big, less gilded and extravagant than royal establishments, but enough to intimidate a greener man. Erwin looks out of the huge windows and into the upper floors of the house opposite. A maid takes a screaming child out of its cot and cradles it close, rocking it semi-hysterically as it bawls. 

Levi had smelled like soap and mint. He had tasted vaguely of tea. Erwin remembers the gut-punch shock of him so close, so openly seeking physical contact, voluntarily lessening the space between their bodies, pressing their cheeks together like he was trying to offer him some sort of respite, or gratitude. He remembers feeling, for the first time in a long time, a raw and genuine stirring of desire. 

The woman takes the child out of the room so Erwin can no longer see them. An attendant comes in and offers to take his coat, offers him water. He declines both, even though it is hot.

Levi had looked horrified when they’d parted. Erwin crossed a line, he knows that. For all his self-control he can be impulsive when the urge takes him, gambling again, risking things he shouldn’t. Levi is a precious commodity to the Scouts, and someone that Erwin would consider a personal friend. He deserves better than to be treated like that. He deserves more than Erwin violating his personal space because he saw the flash of his eyes, felt his skin, and temporarily lost his mind.

“Come on, Erwin. He’s calling us through.” Shadis calls from the antechamber. Erwin straightens his posture and joins him, entering the Premier’s office.

Shadis does most of the talking, and Erwin just stands there looking ‘solemn and imposing’, as instructed. Zackly seems spiritless and too-warm, sprawled in his chair with his heavy head on his fist. Shadis’ voice drones on in its usual matter-of-fact tone, all confidence and no creativity. 

Perhaps Levi would have preferred if Erwin had asked to kiss him first. That is another bad quality of his; you give Erwin an inch and he takes a mile. The half-hug wasn’t an invitation, he sees that now. Perhaps Levi would have preferred if Erwin didn’t kiss him at all. At least he didn’t bolt straight out of the door like he did the first time he was confronted with him in a non-professional light.

“And I will hand over to Captain Smith to explain the supply breakdown and budget.” Shadis says. Erwin steps forward and begins explaining their finances and requirements to the Premier, exactly as practised.

Perhaps he shouldn’t want to kiss Levi. Perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps it was a strange anomaly, born of the hour, the leftover adrenaline, the admiration he felt for Levi’s growth as a soldier, for the way he soars. Perhaps he was feeling especially vulnerable after telling Levi about his father’s books. Come to think of it, Erwin isn’t sure why he did that, either…

It’s all so unlike him.

“So as you can see, with recent additions to our budget, we will have enough for the mission including our twenty percent contingency. We believe this is a good reason to begin preparations and ready the troops. We will take back the stronghold and establish a base outside of Wall Maria.” He speaks with conviction because he must. He must believe it himself if anyone else is going to. Zackly watches him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. His eyes are a little knowing, a little humorous. He nods.

“Very well. As I told you earlier, Shadis, as long as you can balance risk and reward and show me you can budget yourself without begging me for money we can’t spare, you are at liberty to put forward whatever missions you believe necessary. This all seems in order.” He takes the paper, he signs his name on the bottom, like Shadis does with the death notices. 

“Good luck to you all. I sincerely hope for your success.”

Kissing Levi had been nice, if unexpected, but it cannot be allowed to go any further. Erwin’s body belongs to the Corps as much as his heart and mind do. Getting involved with a subordinate, especially one he personally selected, would not just be inappropriate, it would be dangerous. He cannot compromise his position by tangling himself up with Levi. And he already knows that it would be a tangle. There is no way that he could kiss Levi properly, dismantle his barriers and touch his skin, feel the power in him, the strength and the darkness, and be done with it. If he stumbles, he will fall. If he allows himself this weakness, it will be a chink in his armour forever. There is no coming back from a man like Levi. In a world where all of Erwin’s intimacies are simple, Levi is endlessly complicated.

So then it doesn’t matter, he decides. It doesn’t matter what he wants from Levi, or how much or in what way; he can’t have it. That isn’t his place and it’s his responsibility to keep a level head and not abuse his power to satisfy his own curiosity. 

Even though that does sound like me. He thinks again of Camille’s words, of her unexpected perceptiveness.

“You did well, Smith.” Says Shadis, perhaps a touch resentful, in the carriage back. The signed paperwork sits poignant and precious on the seat next to him. Erwin keeps glancing at it, like it might burst into flames.

“A few weeks, then?”

“Yes. Three at most. And then it will all be worth it.” He says, with a surprising shadow of sympathy. He looks out of the window, his sunken eyes drifting shallowly on the surface of the sights they pass.

The whole ‘keep Levi at a distance’ plan didn’t work, so he will have to find a new approach. Erwin is out of the deep end in terms of raising money, but he’s still swimming, and he’s not sure he has the energy to keep up appearances while also shutting out his friends and focusing on the expedition. Compartmentalise and strategise. Attack from the sides, then. He will apologise to Levi, and try to rekindle his trust, but no more. He will do what he has become so adept at; separating professionalism and personal desire.

“Take the day off tomorrow, Erwin. You look tired. That reflects poorly.”

Erwin resists the urge to call Shadis a hypocrite, and bows his head in gratitude.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I mean it. Give your horse a break.” It's a subtextual command: no late-night visits.

Erwin cannot contemplate what he might do with leisure time. Go into town, perhaps? Visit his extended family who so openly dislike him? Sit outside and get sunburnt?

The answer comes that evening, when he is accosted by Mike, lounging outside his room, looking bored.

“Ah. Thought you’d be back soon. Did it all go ok?”

“We will announce the outcome officially in a few days.” Erwin says, papers under his arm, opening his bedroom door and waking to his desk. Mike snorts.

“Yes or no, Erwin?”

“Yes.” Erwin says.

“Good.” Mike says, but it doesn’t sound that convincing. “Let's celebrate, then.”

“I’m not sure that’s befitting of the tone of an expedition this size.”

“Are we leaving tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Erwin takes his jacket off, squeezing the side of his neck to ease the tension ache there.

“C’mon, it’s been a while. Don’t give me that ‘I have work to do’ bullshit either.”

“I actually have some time off.” Erwin tells him. He picks out a clean shirt to change into for dinner. Mike closes the door but doesn’t leave as Erwin gets dressed.

“Perfect. Me and Nanaba are going to the tavern. Hange might come too. Probably Moblit, if Hange is going. Come.”

Erwin shrugs on his shirt, his back to Mike so he doesn’t see the scratch marks on his abdomen. “I’ll see if I have time.”

“You just said you had time. You don’t wanna come, is that it? We’ve barely seen you recently.”

Erwin does feel a little guilty. His responsibilities take a lot of time away from his social life. He’s almost forgotten that he used to be popular.

“Of course I want to come.”

“Then come.”

“Alright.” Erwin says, freshly dressed and combing his fingers through his hair to push it back into place.

“Good. Thought I might ask Levi too. That ok?”

“Sounds like a good idea. It would be good for him to feel included. I don’t think you’ll have much luck, however. I get the feeling Levi isn’t one for drinking. Or socialising.”

Mike shrugs. “Worth a try, I suppose. I didn’t treat him right when he joined, reckon I should try and make up for it now he’s saved my squad twice.”

Mike has become more receptive to the idea of Levi since the last mission. Erwin supposes it is natural for Mike to resent him; Mike’s gifts meant that he streamed ahead of everyone other than Erwin himself to rise through the ranks on account of his brute strength alone. Now Levi is here, outstripping even him, it is no wonder that Mike doesn’t trust him, is jealous of him.

Erwin hasn’t spent a night with his friends for months, maybe over a year, but with no excuse and no paperwork to lash him to his desk, with a direct order from his commander to relax and the fruit of his labour approaching over the horizon, he cannot think of a reason not to enjoy himself a little. So, the following evening, after a day of feeling at a loose end, he leaves HQ with his friends.

The local tavern is always full of Scouts. Mike knows the barmaid, and steers them immediately to a table in the corner; it has space enough for a party of many without losing a sense of privacy, and a wide view of the rest of the room. Erwin knows it as Mike’s table.

“Erwin, with one more mission swindled, let me buy you a drink.” Mike says, slapping him on the shoulder. Erwin has to remind himself to physically relax.

“If you insist.”

“Will the House Swill do for you?”

“If it does for you.”

He leaves Erwin with Nanaba, and they talk about changes to the uniform and how hot it is until the doors bang open and a flurry of brown hair and teeth barrels in, pupils darting around until they settle on their table.

“Ah, Erwin! The main attraction!” Hange says. Loudly.

“Nice of you to join us. I expected you to have something to dissect to keep you busy this evening.” He replies. They were followed in by Moblit, who waves at Erwin and Nanaba and goes to the bar to stand with Mike.

“Nah, not when you’re here! I wouldn’t miss it!”

“I’m beginning to feel like a spare part.” Nanaba says, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Hange throws her arm around Nanaba’s shoulders and kisses her wetly on the cheek. Nanaba makes a face and wipes it away, but is smiling nevertheless.

“Where’s Gelgar?” Hange asks.

“Visiting his family.” Nanaba says.

“Gershin?”

“Too tired, apparently. Got a weak ankle from the last expedition so he’s gone to bed.”

“Levi?”

“Said he might come, but he didn’t look keen.”

Hange snorts. Moblit puts a drink down in front of them. 

“It’s all for show, that tough-guy act. I know he’s a big softie, really.”

Everyone else at the table looks less convinced. Mike returns, gives Erwin his drink, slides in next to him.

“Who needs him, anyway? We have the commander’s favorite out tonight! C’mon, Eyebrows, give us the good news!”

Erwin smirks behind his beer. “I couldn’t possibly disclose confidential information regarding expeditions, Hange.”

“Think that’s a yes.” Nanaba says. Hange giggles. Expeditions are essential, and progress is the purpose of their job, their lives, but not everyone shares Hange’s open joy at the thought of charging into titan territory.

“Surely we must have something to talk about other than titans?” Mike says. Hange looks a little crestfallen. Moblit nods enthusiastically.

They talk about the recruits, the weather, the new theatre in town, the King, and the price of clothes going up. They talk about the woman Nanaba has been seeing on the weekends, and Mike’s sister’s new twins, and Moblit’s family of musicians. They are joined by a group of three local men who Mike knows, roofers by trade, who add to the noise and the questions.

One of them says “I heard Captain Erwin has a girl in the city?”

His friends look interested. Mike looks amused. Nanaba’s brow creases in confusion. Hange looks at the table.

“I’m afraid you heard wrong.” Erwin says, good-naturedly.

“The chance would be nice.” Mike says, knocking their glasses together, and the roofers laugh and the subject is mercifully dropped. Erwin wants to ask who, but thinks it would be better to choke the rumour at the root than give it further voice.

It’s a pleasantly rowdy evening. Erwin gets happily drunk, offers to buy rounds but is constantly snuffed. Conversation ebbs and flows and he is differed to for opinions but finds often that he has nothing to contribute. He feels, for the first time, a strange disconnect with his identity; what is he outside of his duty? Nothing. He has precious few social entanglements. He has no significant standing or passion outside of the Survey Corps. It doesn’t come as a surprise, but it does come as a disappointment. 

They leave in a big, noisy clump just before midnight. Hange has their arm slung over Moblit’s shoulder, wittering away into his ever-patient ear. Mike goes home with the barmaid. Several of the roofers ask him questions, but more to hear themselves talk than to hear his answer. Nanaba is a silent, contemplative sentinel through the gates of HQ. 

“Give me a minute, I’d like some air.” He says, peeling away from the other three. Moblit nods pleasantly and carries Hange inside. Their voice carries across the courtyard.

“Are you alright, Erwin?” Nanaba asks. She means it, too. She looks concerned, but not worried; a relieving blend of compassion without suspicion. He fantasises about saying he isn’t, about unloading onto her out here, in the still, hot night. He thinks how her face would drop, how her pale brows would draw together, how she’d be indignant, insistent, in the face of his extra duties to the Scouts. She’d talk some sense into him, he thinks. She’d give him a stern word and some practical advice, and pry no further.

“I’m fine. Just a little tipsy, perhaps.” He smiles at her. She takes this, and heads inside, leaving him alone, facing the training forest, under the revealing light of the moon.

He would quite like a cigarette. It is an unusual urge for him, but it is an unusual night. He now feels more present in his own skin, more connected to the man he was as he worked his way up through the Scouts, and more aware of his own limitations, and comfortable with them. He doesn’t smoke, though. He won’t. He has the self-control.

A strange awareness overcomes him, as he is walking towards the East courtyard. It is more than the sense of being watched, and instead something like anticipation, like the hairs on his neck stand up in excitement rather than alarm. He passes through the archway into the internal courtyard and turns as his instinct tells him to, tilting his head up. As he’d almost expected, Levi is perched on the gutter, one knee raised, his elbow resting on it, observing Erwin with his usual cold disdain.

This isn’t how Erwin wanted to confront Levi after what happened after the mission, but Levi has cornered him. Or at least, it feels that way.

“Good evening.” Erwin says.

Levi looks like he wants to flee. Erwin doesn’t know how he can tell. He has the feeling that, even though Levi hid it well, he didn’t expect Erwin to spot him.

“You drunk?” He asks, he spits, really.

“Maybe a little.”

Levi glares and says nothing. 

“You should have come. Mike and Hange were asking after you.”

“I didn’t want to.” 

“Alright.”

He thought Levi’s face was familiar to him; he’s spent long enough looking at it. It’s different now, warped by moonlight, set in a scowl, more dangerous and distant than Erwin has grown accustomed to. It’s like returning to a spot from your childhood and finding everything has changed.

“Levi, I have been meaning to speak with you about - “

He doesn’t get to finish. Levi stands and slinks cat-like up the roof and over onto the slope of the other side, disappearing from view. Erwin hears his careful footfalls on the slate, trailing away from him.

That could have gone better.

Levi is angry with him. He has every right to be. Erwin crossed a line, and he regrets that, but Levi should at least allow him to apologise. They cannot work together if Levi can hardly bear to look at him.

His room is hot. He opens the windows and listens to the owls. He feels pleasantly distant with the alcohol, stripping down to his underwear and splaying himself inelegantly on his bed. The room still smells clean, like bleach and polish, after Levi practically irrigated it. Erwin’s gaze swims, feeling the breeze tease his hair, a languid, liquid warmth in his limbs. 

He dreams shallowly, near enough to the surface that he can’t be sure of falling asleep. His dreams are usually of piles of corpses, of heartbroken parents, of sights he can never forget but has seen too many of to consciously remember. Tonight he dreams of Harriet, of her red mouth and her biting. Her nails scratch his stomach. Her voice is sharp and taunting in his ear.

“Was it worth it?”

He thinks of Shadis’ sunken eyes, his father’s spectacles collecting dust on his desk, and more comrades than he can count, split open on the ground.

She presses her palm between his legs. His throat closes up. He feels hot and disorientated; his stomach churning and sweat prickling along his hairline. He automatically reaches for her, his body moving without his mind, summoning up some interest that he hopes is convincing. After all this time he cannot shed his disguise. His hands meet empty air.

“Well, captain?” She coos. She grips him tight. He chokes. There’s a hand on his throat all of a sudden; a hand? No - cold, sharp, deadly - a blade? 

Levi says “was it worth it?” and Erwin opens his eyes again. Levi’s own are close, cold, steely, filled with hate. 

He doesn’t remember waking up, or really falling asleep again. The next time he opens his eyes it is morning, and he has slid half off the bed, nearly-naked, overheating, his mouth like cotton. It takes him longer than usual to put himself together again.

000

Erwin tries to speak to him after training, but Levi’s quicker than him, and he has a feeling that he won’t follow him into the shower. He is correct.

Erwin openly watches him through dinner. It’s been two days since he spotted Levi on the roof, and they haven’t talked. This is because Levi hasn’t allowed it. It’s not that he’s trying to be petulant. He takes no pleasure in the awkwardness of his teammates trying to pretend they haven’t noticed. He put the space there because he is still working through his disgust, his shame. He’s still realigning himself with this person that Erwin sees; a weapon to be bought. He can’t believe he was ever stupid enough to think Erwin respected him. Why would he? They need each other, and that is it.

He knows it’s coming, but he isn’t quick enough leaving for his barracks. He has a sense that the privacy of a shut bedroom door means as little to Erwin as it does to him, anyway.

“Levi.”

“What?”

A couple of cadets glance over their shoulder as they pass them in the corridor, looking disturbed by Levi’s rudeness. 

He’s no angel either, kids.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“What gives you that idea?”

The lie is so poor that Erwin doesn’t even acknowledge it.

“Come to my room, we must talk about this.”

“Think again, captain. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

He turns to leave and Erwin’s hand lands heavy on his shoulders.

“That wasn’t an invitation. Come. Now.”

Levi feels his teeth vibrating, his vision going blurry at the edges. A tempting glimmer of that old rage rears its head; the ugly, twisted, powerful thing that used to thirst for Erwin’s blood. Erwin must see it in his stance.

“Don’t make a scene, Levi.” He sounds tired, patronising, speaking down to him. 

He can’t make me forgive him, though. That alone is mine.

Levi slaps Erwin’s hand away and reluctantly follows him to his room. He deliberately stands by the open door, barely across the threshold, while Erwin sits behind his desk.

“This is a delicate matter, Levi. Shut the door.” That tone again, like Levi's the delinquent in the schoolroom. He thinks of his father’s books, wonders if that is how he spoke to Erwin. 

With an obvious show of reluctance, Levi shuts the door. He doesn’t move closer, however.

“You are angry with me.” 

Levi says nothing, arms crossed, his usual expression of sour indifference slipping easily over his features.

“That is understandable.” Erwin concedes, glancing down at his desk, at his hand resting over his pen like he’s going to write Levi up for scowling.

Levi stays silent. Let him do all the work. Let him squirm, for once.

“I crossed a line. That was selfish and ignorant of me. I apologise for that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but I knew my position and I still behaved poorly. It was incredibly unprofessional. I’m sorry, Levi.”

Levi’s jaw grinds. This isn’t what he wants to hear. 

“Unprofessional?"

“Yes. Extremely.”

“You pulled that shit before?”

“Excuse me?” He asks, then his brain catches up. “Oh. No. Never. Of...of course not.”

“Hm.”

“You, as ever, appear to be an anomaly.”

“It’s my fault, then?”

“No. No, I didn’t mean it that way - “

“You keep saying that - you didn’t mean it like that, you didn’t mean to make me uncomfortable. Seems you don’t have much of a grasp on other people, then.”

Erwin has the grace to look a little sheepish. “I suppose I don’t.”

Erwin did make him uncomfortable - angry, even - but it isn’t as simple as that. He didn’t make a move on Levi when he didn’t want it - if he’d done that he’d have at least a broken nose - it’s the feelings that followed, that flowered, that made Levi feel sick. He doesn’t know how to express this, however, and he’s not sure he wants to try.

“Forgive me, Levi. I won’t do it again.”

Levi gives a noncommittal roll of his shoulders.

“We need to be a team again, it is essential for our squad’s survival. You told me not two weeks ago that our team comes before our personal problems, and I listened to you. I know you are not so hypocritical as to not listen to your own advice.”

Levi hates his manoeuvring. This is supposed to be an apology to him, and somehow he feels backed into a corner. 

“Whatever.”

“Is there something you would like to talk about? Perhaps if you have a specific grievance, we can get it out in the open?”

That’s fucking rich coming from you, keeping all your truth and your feelings locked up in your own head.

“No.”

“Alright. Do you forgive me?”

“No. But I’ll work with you. I don’t want any more kids dying.” He says, and leaves the room without another word.

000

The following day, a soldier has a breakdown in the mess.

It’s the first Levi’s witnessed, but it’s overdue. This guy isn’t even a new recruit, he’s been in the Corps longer than Levi has. One minute he’s eating his meal and the next he has smashed his plate, slicing open his own hands in the process, and screaming up at the lofted ceiling.

He’s restrained first by Moblit and Hange, who were sitting the table down, and then later by medics, who slide something under his tongue that puts him out. Levi watches the whole thing with a combination of interest and dread. His eyes flick to Erwin’s normal seat, but it’s empty. Once the medics carry him away, an atmosphere of passive unease settles over the room. The only thing worse than not coping with what they’ve seen in the field is the thought of having to publicly confront it. Levi would scoff at the attitude of well-practised detachment if he wasn’t such a fan of it himself.

He finds Hange later. They’re spending their break drawing a mushroom that has sprouted out of a log just North of the barracks. They’re lying on their front, their face close to the patch of moss and the tiny pale cup poking out of it, scribbling away in their sketchbook. Levi wrinkles his nose.

“Ah! Levi! This is fascinating. This little guy is still growing even though it hasn’t rained in a week and a half. And it looks like he’s the only one! It must have a complex irrigation system…”

“Have you given it a name yet?” He asks sarcastically.

“Not yet!” They say.

He rolls his eyes and collapses on the ground against the log, facing the sun. He’s going to get burnt again. He wishes someone in the Underground had told him about sunburn and perhaps he wouldn’t have been so eager to get up here.

“You ok? I see there’s some tension between you and Erwin again. Honestly, would the Walls fall if you two just got along for five minutes?” They observe without looking up from their drawing. Levi doesn’t want to go there.

“What happened to that kid in the mess today?”

“Huh?” They peer up at him through their glasses. The lens catches the sun and Levi blinks away the temporary blindness.

“That kid, screaming and crying and shit. You and Moblit helped him. What happened?”

“Oh, yes. Sidney, poor thing. He’s been with us for a while, I never expected he’d be so close to breaking. They took him to the medical wing.”

“What will happen now?”

“Uh, he might be discharged, if Shadis is convinced he’s lost his mind. Or he might request a transfer. Sometimes facing your fellow soldiers after a stunt like that can be almost as scary as facing a titan.”

That’s what’s weird about these Above-Grounders: it’s all about appearances and reputation. People join the army to make their parents proud, to prove themselves strong, to have people cheer at them or give them free meals in town or just to wear the badge with pride. Not because they’re good at it, not because they believe in the cause, or even because they like the job itself; it’s all about how you look, and not what you do. It leaves Levi stumped. In the Underground, the worse your reputation, the more chance you had of surviving, but that was about the extent of personal pretence.

“Can they make him better?”

Once, when Levi found a dead mouse outside his mother’s room, crushed and twitching from the boot of a customer, he’d stared at it for a long time. It didn’t die for hours, just lay there, eyes wide and blinking, tiny, caved-in chest heaving. Levi tried to keep pace with its breathing and nearly fainted. His mother found him like that, kneeling over it, watching it die. He’d asked her then, ‘can you make it better?’  

Her frail touch on his brow, her broken voice, her gentle smile. He can barely remember which parts of this memory are real and which were a dream.

‘No, little one. No one can help it now.’

“They might try. There are some medicines that the doctors in Sina think ease troubled minds, but when you’ve seen what we’ve seen, you either adapt or you break. If he’s broken, there isn’t much we can do.” They’ve stopped drawing, the corners of their expressive mouth turned down. Levi feels unexpectedly guilty for ruining their afternoon.

“He wasn’t in great shape in the hospital when Moblit and I went to check on him. He’d torn out half his hair. He kept saying we were titans in disguise. It’s upsetting to see good men go down like that.” They say.

“Does it happen often?”

“Public ones like that are rarer. One to three a year, perhaps? But soldiers lose their minds all the time here, you know. Sometimes it’s just more difficult to notice.”

“Like spending your afternoon in the dirt, drawing a plant?”

“I don’t think mushrooms are plants.” Hange smiles good-naturedly at his teasing. 

Levi twists his head to look. The lines are messy and erratic, but it does look like the damn thing. 

“Not bad.” He observes.

Hange raises their eyebrow, grins at him, biting their lip. 

“Did you just pay me a compliment?”

Levi shrugs. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I knew you were nice, really.”

He feels better having cheered them up. He’s under no illusions that he’s a social person, but the last few days of icy awkwardness with Erwin have made him feel disconnected, despondent, hell, maybe even lonely.

“Do you want to talk about Erwin?”

“No.” 

“Ok. He is alright, though?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Good.” And then they drop it. Just like that. If only Levi’d had the forethought to do the same a month ago.

He knows it can’t last. It turns out trying to have nothing to do with Erwin actually just makes Levi think about him more, and the weird, angry ache that it brings. He’s been doing a good job of convincing himself that Erwin promising never to touch him again is what he wanted out of this argument. The victory wavers before him now, though, empty and pale. He’s annoyed that he apparently has to explain Erwin’s own intentions to him since he doesn’t seem to have realised it himself. The annoyance is enough to keep Levi silent and hostile.

He can’t help it, though, at night. His nails are as clean as they are ever going to get. He feels guilty for feeling bored when Isabel and Farlan can’t feel anything at all. He climbs out of the window into the hot night. 

The wood of the stable roof is dark and still warm from the day’s sun. He sits there and thinks about the kids behind the brewery, of Hange’s mushroom and the dead mouse in the corridor. He thinks about how Erwin looked soft around the edges, tired and relieved, as he spoke of his father, worn and warm, so unlike this man carved from marble that he is before a crowd, atop a wall, astride a horse. He thinks about the shadows under his eyes and the candlelight in his hair when he leaned in to kiss Levi. 

His heartbeat is steady and his head is full. He dozes on the roof until the first flush of sunrise. Erwin didn’t return, so he must not have left. Levi goes back to his bunk.

000

“Fucking heat.” Keiji says, buffing his hair out of his eyes. They’ve been training on level ground for hours, and now they crouch in the shade of the forest to take off their gear.

Erwin is officially announcing the mission this evening at dinner. He expects most people already know; word travels fast in the barracks. His squad certainly do, although no one refers to it directly.

“You did well. If we can keep the formation tight on open ground, it should be easier to take down abnormals.” Erwin says. 

“We should just follow Levi, right?” Says Lauda, half-sarcastic.

“If he is doing what he’s been told.” Erwin says. Levi is wrestling with his gear. His straps have been buckled too tightly and the heat means his grip keeps slipping. Erwin can see his mouth moving as he mutters under his breath in frustration.

“Head inside, get some rest. Don’t be late for dinner.”

Hallie’s arm twitches up as if to salute, but she sees no one else is and so drops it. The squad thanks Erwin and begins to slowly scatter. Erwin thinks of heading to his office, but sees Levi is still struggling. 

“Do you need help?”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s no way to speak to your captain.”

“I’m fine.” Levi says through gritted teeth. They are alone under the tree, the clinking of buckles breaking the silence, Levi practically steaming.

“Don’t yank it, you’ll only make it tighter.”

“I know how to take off a fucking harness, sir.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

Levi shoots him a particularly nasty glare. It bounces off Erwin and falls uselessly between them.

He doesn’t think, really, and perhaps that’s his problem in moments like these, moments between people; he goes on instinct rather than his usual strategy, and it lands him in trouble. Will he never learn?!

He drops to a knee in front of Levi and brushes his hands away. He slips his own hand under the strap and presses down on the flesh of Levi’s shoulder, giving the leather enough space to slacken. He flicks open the buckle quickly and it releases.

“There.” 

He sees Levi’s sigh as the strap hangs loose down his front. However, when Erwin looks at his face, it is incredulous again.

Oh. Yes. Right. Idiot.

“Ah, sorry, Levi. I forgot -”

He retracts his hands deliberately, slowly, raising them in a gesture of surrender. 

Levi’s expression goes from confusion to fury very quickly. Erwin can barely keep track.

“Grow up.” He snarls, grabbing Erwin’s hand and moving it to the buckle on the opposite shoulder. Without the tension of the other strap, this one isn’t difficult to get off, so Erwin is confused.

He doesn’t want to make Levi uncomfortable, but for whatever reason he has asked for his help, and so Erwin obliges. He slides the strap from its buckle and once again feels an exhalation of relief. He frowns, pressing his thumb against where the strap rested. He can feel an indent in the skin under Levi’s shirt where the harness was digging in. He feels him wince. 

“You wear it too tight.” He says. When he meets Levi’s eyes, it is neither confusion nor anger in their depths.

Levi’s breathing is a little heavier. Erwin can see it in the rise and fall of his chest. His teeth are gritted but the intensity of his gaze has thickened into something more hungry than cautionary. Erwin is still pressing his thumb against his shoulder. He can feel how tense Levi is. They’re close together, alone in this field, under this tree. It makes Erwin’s thoughts come slowly. It’s so hot.

“Levi…” He says, for the sake of saying his name. He likes saying Levi’s name. It suits him; short, harsh, unusual, powerful.

Levi returns to himself. It’s almost visible in his eyes. He realises that they’re just sitting here, touching each other again, and perhaps he catches that he’s been staring, that he just asked Erwin to touch him again after making him promise that he wouldn’t.

He’s on his feet in seconds. His gear whirrs. He’s grappled into a tree behind them and flown off before Erwin has even stood up fully. The breeze of his passing stirs Erwin’s hair.

Erwin doesn’t think. He slots his gear back onto his hips, locking the chamber in place, and takes off after him. 

Levi is quick, but he has to stop to rebuckle his harness. Erwin sees him wrangling it on a high branch: too narrow for Erwin to stand on. When Levi hears him coming, he yanks the buckle into place and flies off again. 

“Levi!” Erwin shouts. His well-tempered frustration becoming anger, becoming rage. So stubborn, so distrusting, even after all this time. He won’t let Levi run away from this conversation like a coward. Levi isn’t a coward. 

He chases him through the forest, twigs whipping against his face, palms slick against his triggers, every sense tuning in to the terrain, like he’s beyond the Walls and on a titan’s trail. Levi is lightning-fast, but the forest is small and Erwin knows it better. He hasn’t pushed his gear this hard in years. 

He whips round a tree and has a second to catch his breath before he picks up the sound of wires hissing and snapping again. He’s heading South. He’ll run out of trees soon. 

He shoots his grapple as far as he can, banking on the strength of the trees ahead and his memory of where the biggest are placed, swinging round in a semicircle, and bouncing off a trunk to cross in front of Levi as he emerges. Levi looks startled, then more determined, and fires his wires backwards and drops ten feet towards the ground, looping back round and changing direction. Erwin nearly growls, wipes the sweat from his eyes, carries on after him. 

His muscles scream in symphony, the movements instinctual, the thrill of the chase mixing with his own anger to fill him with fire. Levi is a miracle in the air. Erwin’s never before resented his wings. 

But he’s clutching to the canopy, assured that Erwin won’t risk the thinner branches on account of his bulk. Maybe he’s hoping to camp up there and wait Erwin out: there is nowhere else to run, and the trees are thinning. 

He shouldn’t underestimate him. Not after everything. 

Erwin zips upwards, lost in the leaves, feeling his grapple point pull and strain. He releases it and moves forward just as it gives, and the branch snaps.

When he comes upon Levi, the shock is enough. It’s two seconds, but it’s enough. Levi makes a break for the forest floor, but Erwin anticipated that. He draws himself to his other grapple, imbedded further down, swings in an arc, knocks into Levi in mid-air and sends them both crashing to the ground. 

He pins him there, throwing the extra weight he has on Levi into his grip, pressing him against the dirt and the leaves. Levi wriggles and kicks, thrashing like a feral cat, scrambling for purchase, for a point of leverage to flip them over, but Erwin is like rock, forcing all his strength down. 

“Levi. Stop.” He shouts. He’s lost his composure. He has a tendency to do that around Levi, he has noticed. They are panting and sweat-slick, Levi’s hair full of leaves, Erwin’s cheeks undoubtedly flushed. He’s uncomfortable in the tight straps of his harness. 

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Stop behaving like a child. Talk to me. Would that kill you?!”

Levi stops struggling briefly to catch his breath, panting up at Erwin, eyes filling with loathing. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“These ridiculous stunts you’re pulling are wearing thin. Talking then not talking, bringing morale down apparently deliberately, hating me for touching you and then asking me to. Do you understand why I am confused?! Why I’m angry?!”

Levi struggles again, trying to slide his legs around Erwin’s to grapple him onto his back. Erwin plants his knees on either side of Levi’s hips and presses his forearms into the ground up by his head. 

“Fuck you, this is your fault, bastard.”

“I’m sure it is, Levi.” He drawls, without even bothering to try and regain his patience. “So explain to me what it is that I have done wrong, and I will make it right.”

Levi doesn’t. He struggles more, manages to wrench an arm free, swings a blow at the side of Erwin’s head. It’s off-set by anger and panic. Erwin ducks to avoid it and regains his grip on Levi’s wrist.

“I thought I’d offended you. I felt terrible - the look of horror on your face - like I’d molested you. I wanted to make it up to you -”

“Well you’re doing a shitty fucking job. You’re right back at it, see?!” Levi spits, his hooded eyes like caves under his furrowed brow. 

“I think that wasn’t it at all. I think you did want me to touch you.”

“How did you figure that?” He kicks his legs. Erwin sits his weight further down. 

“You’re getting much easier to read. Your eyes go glassy when you’re aroused.”

“My eyes go glassy when I’m fantasising about killing you.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if both observations were true.”

“You think I want to fuck you? After everything you’ve done?! Have you finally lost it? You’re so fucking arrogant.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, that’s why I’m asking. I’m not sure you know yourself.”

“Get off me and we’ll find out.”

“I’d prefer my throat un-slit, thank you.”

“Then you better be prepared to keep me here forever.” Levi says, but Erwin isn’t convinced. He could kill Erwin if he wanted to. Levi’s problem is that he’s started doubting if he wants to. He’s not a cold man, despite the front he puts up, and it’s by the grace of his kindness, his ability to forgive, that Erwin is still breathing.

“Levi, just talk to me. Having to force you to have a conversation is ridiculous.”

“I don’t want to -”

“Why?”

“It’s doesn’t matter -”

“It does.”

“I hate you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you want me to leave you alone, yes? You don’t want me near you?”

“I -”

“Please, Levi -”

“It won’t matter, will it? Because you’ll do it anyway. And it’s not like you want it either!” He says, he shouts, finally, directly into Erwin’s face. Levi’s flushed; angry red blotches blooming like bruises on his cheeks. The day is so hot.

“What?”

Levi’s expression swoops easily back from embarrassment to anger. 

“You can’t fucking buy me, Erwin.”

What?! Erwin’s confusion causes him to loosen his grip a little. Levi gets an arm free, launches himself upwards, grabs Erwin round his shoulders and attempts to wrestle him off him. But Erwin is too broad - Levi’s legs are trapped and so he has no more leverage. Erwin slips out of his grip and presses him back into the dirt, almost unthinkingly, his mind somewhere else entirely.

“You think I’m trying to buy you?”

“I think in your own fucked up way you’re paying me. All that bullshit - ‘you did well, Levi - Look at you go, Levi - you’re a fucking marvel, Levi ’ - you’re so damn grateful, and how does a whore show he’s grateful?!” Levi spits the word, harsh and hurt, and Erwin feels himself flinch, tries desperately to hide it, knows he probably failed.

“Levi, it’s...it’s nothing like that.”

“Sure. You got all these feelings of gratitude; I’ve provided a service, paid your damn bills, swung favour with the brass, like one of those women. You’re acting on instinct, perhaps, but the result is still the same. You thought you could -” Levi looks disgusted, distraught, ashamed, almost. It’s a horrid expression on him. “- thought you could fuck loyalty into me. Thought you could buy me with your attention, when I didn’t even ask for it! Didn’t even -”

His lips purse to form the ‘w’ of ‘want’, but he strangles it before it’s out. Because it isn’t true, Erwin realises, like a punch to the gut.

“No,” Erwin gasps, on the exhale, like it’s ripped from him. He sounds pathetic - must look it, too, looming over his subordinate like this. “No, it’s not that at all. That never even occurred to me, it was -”

“I don’t give a shit if it occured to you or not. That’s what I’m saying. They’ve fucked you up inside, Erwin. You don’t know how to accept something without trying to repay the favour like that. You don’t even know you’re doing it. It just…comes naturally to you now. After all, you’ve been doing it for years.”

It’s said with venom, it’s meant to hurt, but it doesn’t. All it does is confuse Erwin further. 

“I - I…”

It didn’t feel that way, the other night. It wasn’t gratitude that swelled in his chest, straining against its tether. He’d seen Levi in the lamplight, harsh and beautiful, brimming with potential destruction, listening quietly to Erwin’s secrets. He’d seen a flash of something in his quick, dark eyes, seen the creases in his brow lessen, seen the way he sat beside Erwin, close enough to touch. His skin looked clean and soft. His hair was shining, inky, like oil, like obsidian. He’d put his lips next to Erwin’s ear. He’d put his fist against his shoulder. He was so small and so mighty. He stole the breath from Erwin’s lungs. 

It felt real, like real want, for the first time in a long time. It came out of nowhere, foreign and incendiary, exciting and dangerous and inconvenient. Erwin kissed him because he had the urge to, because his lips had been close, and Erwin was curious. He kissed him because, when he put his fingers against Levi’s jaw, he’d gone limp. He kissed him because Levi had looked like he wanted him to.

His business in Sina, his method of getting favour, didn’t exist for that pocket of time. It had been a relief, actually, to feel for once that his body was entirely his own.

He looks down at Levi now, still breathing heavy, his cold, delicate features compressed with betrayal, and everything makes sense.

“It couldn’t have been further from my mind.” Erwin says, perilously soft, sincerity bubbling up his throat. Levi looks shocked by his tone, perhaps like he’s listening.

“That’s not it at all, Levi. I swear to you, I would never…”

“How can you be sure?” It’s accusatory, but it’s lost its bite.

“I’ve become something of an expert in separating that part of my life from the rest of it. I’m not...fully present, when I spend time with those noblewomen. It is a different part of my head that I occupy. With you...it’s never like that. I’m never there. I’m myself. I touched you like that because I wanted to.”

He’s an honest man. If he has hurt Levi, he must be willing to make amends by laying everything on the table.

He releases one of Levi’s arms in a show of trust. He reaches down and gently picks a leaf from his hair. Levi is visibly processing. He stays where he is, lying on the floor, chin tilted towards the sky. 

“Why?”

It’s like he’s testing Erwin. He answers truthfully.

“I just...did.”

There is a long moment of quiet, of only breath and birdsong, where Levi looks up at him with his eyebrows drawn together, and Erwin stares back down, face terrifyingly unguarded, trying to convince him of his honesty.

It’s intimate again, even too-hot and still in their gear, even on the forest floor, even as Erwin holds Levi down to stop him from fighting, or fleeing. A peace descends on him, an assurance that Levi will understand - eventually, he will understand - and they will be as they were. It is trust. Erwin trusts him.

Levi uses his free arm to force Erwin off him, butting him with his elbow, knocking him back so there is enough room for Levi to scramble out from the hold and stand up. He doesn’t look like he’s going to run anymore, so Erwin lets him.

“Do you believe me?”

Levi’s expression is his trademark scowl once more. “I don’t know.”

But you listened. That’s enough for now. 

“I’m sorry, Levi. For causing you all this discomfort. For making you feel used.”

“Tch. You didn’t make me feel used.” He scowls, brushing dry dirt off his sleeves. “I’m not some wounded puppy, I just wanted you to know that it doesn’t work like that. I don’t want you trying to pull that shit, not on me.”

Erwin nods. He slots his triggers back into their place. 

“Thank you for talking to me. I…understand better, now.”

Levi snorts. “You had to literally pin me to the ground and force it out of me. Stop saying thank you for everything. So damn polite, it’s clearly bullshit. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“You think so?”

“Those questions, too. Not sticking up for yourself, just taking everything I say about you with a ‘maybe so’ or ‘do you think?’ You’re insufferable.”

He won’t look at Erwin. He’s still embarrassed, perhaps. He is trying to overcompensate for the vulnerability he just showed. He’s trying to battle Erwin back into his pen of professional distaste after all but admitting that he wants him. It’s a ridiculous idea. It’s endearing. 

“C’mon, brute. Don’t you have some big announcement to make? A supposed two weeks beyond the Walls: won’t the recruits be thrilled?”

Erwin allows himself a small smile, to show Levi that he has amused him, that his attempt at lifting the atmosphere was well-received. Maybe all they needed was to race through the trees, grapple on the ground, shout at each other a bit, and now the tension has leaked out of them, settled somewhere lower and more comfortable. Erwin is no fool: Levi could outrun him in a heartbeat, outfight him blindfolded, if his instincts kicked in and he really wanted to. He didn’t want to, then. Not completely. Not with enough conviction. He craved the release of the truth just as much as Erwin did. 

Erwin follows him back into the building. He thinks about last week’s inquiry:

“Did you have a personal connection to Mrs Weber?”

“Yes. I was an acquaintance.”

“For how long.”

“Three years or so.”

“Would you describe your relationship as close?”

“No.”

“The deceased’s husband reports that you were…distressed, disturbed, even, when you visited their estate not two hours after Mrs Weber died. How do you account for that?”

“She sent me a letter. I imagine she sent one to many people. I read it as a suicide letter and came as soon as I could.”

“A suicide letter to a friend? An acquaintance she didn’t know that well?”

“Yes.”

“May we read this letter?”

“It is probably still in my desk, if you’d care to come to the Survey Corps HQ.”

A long silence. A bored judge. A dispassionate, perhaps relieved husband. 

“Very well. You are free to go, Captain Smith.” 

Fleeting lives, interconnecting and separating, like a great web of meaningless moments. Sometimes Erwin feels like he understands how people think, what compels them, what completes them. And he understands how he is different, higher, stronger, better. Sometimes he realizes he is just as desperate, misguided and hungry as the rest of them. Sometimes he thinks he is screaming across a huge empty space, at nothing and no one, and that every person alive is exactly the same. 

That evening, in front of a room full of young, scared, eager faces, he announces the outpost mission beyond the Wall, explaining how he expects forty percent of them to not make it back. 

Chapter Text

This is it, then. The mission will commence when the heat wave breaks. Erwin said that, from what they can predict about the weather, this is unlikely to be much more than a week. 

Levi feels a perverse excitement at the prospect. He’s been stewing in HQ for too long, letting all sorts of unproductive and unwelcome ideas fester and grow in his head, and he wants the cold clarity of what he’s good at, the simple horror of survival beyond the Walls. He’s also sick of the heat. He’s not built for this much sun and humidity. He longs for rain, and the comforting shroud of cloud cover. He feels drained despite having not exerted himself properly in months.

And Hange keeps irritating him, as if he needed any more reason to be touchy. They appear from behind buildings and training dummies and trees when he’s working, blatantly ignoring their own squad’s demand for drilling pre-expedition, and inundate him with questions about his technique, his instincts, his strength. One day, when Levi’s getting particularly fed up with it, he throws his training dagger at the barrel they are crouching behind, hard enough that the blunt blade imbeds itself in the gap between metal and wood. Hange startles up from their shitty hiding place and laughs at him.

“Almost got me that time, Levi!”

“Pity.” He mutters under his breath, wiping his brow.

“How long have you known I was there?”

“Since you arrived.”

“Fascinating. How?”

“Because you breathe like a damn horse, your hair sticks up like a flag and I can smell you from over here.”

His insults bounce off, as always, and they scribble something down excitedly in their notebook. Levi turns his attention back to Lauda, who tackles him, and he lifts her over his shoulder with ease, depositing her none-too-gently on her ass in the dirt. He feels Hange watching him still.

Where's Berner when you need him?

He watches Erwin train with Mike, a few yards South. Mike’s taken off his shirt and is wearing loose pants, slung low on his hips. He is barefoot; on the filthy ground, Levi thinks with disgust. Erwin is completely dressed, save for his jacket, harness and tie, thrown over the fence. He’s rolled his sleeves up. 

Erwin rolling his sleeves up is usually the only sign of his discomfort with the heat, or his transition to informality. Levi pays attention when he does it, initially to gauge his mindset and intentions, and now because Levi likes to look at his forearms. They are strong and tanned and lightly freckled. The hair there is so fair it’s almost invisible. His wrists are a well-tuned orchestra of fine bones. His hands are careful and capable. They flex now, balling into loose fists, preparing to fight Mike.

Levi’s looking increasingly like Hange, watching Erwin move, probably with the same mildly manic look in his eye. He catches himself quickly, and schools his features into as much apathy as he can manage, which he believes to be a lot.

Mike’s technique is good; it compensates for his bulk, and subsequent inability to be as agile as a smaller opponent. Levi has never watched Erwin fight; only been on the receiving end of it. He jumps at the chance to learn something of his form, to tuck it away for deployment in any altercation they might have in the future. Erwin’s stance is rigid in the back and loose in the hips, his knees slightly bent, his shoulders turned on his opponent at a forty-five degree angle. He’s got the perfect posture of a teacher’s pet. He’s been taught how to fight, and he has copied it to the letter, unlike someone like Levi who quickly learnt what does and doesn't work for him and altered his style accordingly.

When Mike swings at him, Erwin ducks, but it wasn’t a proper attempt: it was a warm-up. Mike’s feints are easy to pick up on, but Erwin seems reluctant to engage in close combat. Levi has to look away from the fight for a moment to grapple Lauda to the ground as she attempts to sneak up on him while he’s distracted.

She struggles in his grip, batting at his bicep. “Alright, I get it, you win.”

“Good. So you can cut it out and we can watch the grown-ups fight instead.” He says, releasing her. She rubs at her neck and acquiesces, sitting on the ground while Levi chooses to stand, watching the squad leaders weave around each other. 

It’s funny, Levi thinks, but not because they’re bad at it. Mike’s brute strength against Erwin’s ability to strategize makes for a fairly even match. What amuses Levi is the subdued glee they both seem to take in the training. Mike’s flicking his hair out of his eyes, smirking at Erwin, feigning a swipe to his head and going for his legs instead. When Erwin reasserts his stance and tugs his thigh free before Mike can go for a double-leg takedown, he laughs. It’s joyful - juvenile, even. It makes Levi roll his eyes and Mike cut his losses and just drop-tackle Erwin to the ground. They flip each other over and over again, trying to get an arm bar or triangle hold to end it all, but after a few minutes they’re both laughing enough to have the strength visibly drain from their grips.

Levi hears Mike say “I’m going easy on you...all that desk work’s got you out of shape…”, his voice slightly muffled by his own elbow as Erwin uses it to put him in a chokehold. He flicks his hips up and manages to wrangle Erwin onto his back. 

“How kind of you...I hope you afford the titans the same advantage…” He pants, grinning, as Mike tries to keep his arms pinned down. Erwin lunges, gets a good grip on Mike’s back, and an underhook through his armpit, clamping their torso’s together and wriggling a leg free to use as leverage to flip them again. 

“Ah, are we hugging now, Erwin? I didn’t know you felt that way.” He laughs into Erwin’s shoulder, now keeping him close, effectively reversing their original position. Mike is trying to get a leg on the outside of Erwin’s hips. A small crowd has now gathered to watch.

“What an insinuation to make...about your future commander…” Erwin says, breathing hard, forcing the words out, as Mike compresses his ribcage. It’s a bold, boyish thing to say, even amongst friends. Levi’s lips twitch.

Levi still hasn’t quite forgiven Erwin. So? I’m a miserable piece of shit who holds onto grudges, that’s hardly my fault. That doesn’t mean he isn’t enjoying seeing him relatively carefree, wrestling with his friend who is now making obscene kiss-faces at him as Erwin tries to stay composed long enough to get a submission from him. Hange cackles from the sidelines. Keiji, Hallie and Samuel are cheering Erwin on. 

It’s almost like...camaraderie. True camaraderie. Like they fight to protect each other because they want to, and it would be the same if it weren’t written into their contracts. When was the last time Erwin laughed? He’s been fucking miserable since his duties in the towns carved a rift between him and his friends. 

It’s like some sort of fucked-up family tableau. Levi’s been part of those before, emphasis on the fucked-up bit. They never end well, not like those stories that just close on contentment and so the characters stay that way, suspended in perpetual happiness, forever. Levi doesn’t know many stories. He didn’t hear that many growing up. They seem like cruel jibes when you live Below.

He’s part of this one, he supposes. He feels...not-unattached. He can no longer pretend that the lives of these people mean nothing to him, that he would be unaffected if they died, that he will be unaffected when they die. The realisation twists his stomach.

Erwin gets his submission, and helps a still-chuckling Mike to his feet. He brushes the dust from Mike’s bare back with an easy fondness, a thread of warmth interwoven into the masculine display of mutual respect. Levi wonders if in all the time they’ve known each other, Erwin has shown Mike where he’s cut himself shaving, whether he’s pinned him to the ground in an act of actual aggression, whether he’s told him about his father’s books, or kissed him in candlelight. Levi stops this path of thought, because he doesn’t want to ruin his otherwise pleasant mood with the telltale twinges of jealousy. 

His relationship with Erwin is...prickly, at the moment. Erwin seems to be determined to interact with him as much as he can, all casual and friendly, and then march off towards his next meeting without the slightest indication that anything has changed between them. Levi finds himself naturally slipping into doing the opposite; trying to avoid being alone with Erwin while also wanting to latch onto him and leech the life from him whenever he spares Levi a passing glance. It’s counterproductive. It’s fucking stupid.

He isn’t sure if he’d label his feelings towards Erwin desire, but it’s definitely interest; this he cannot deny. Now he’s started thinking about Erwin and the noblewomen, he can’t stop. Now he’s touched his lips, his eyes naturally catch there until he wrenches them away. It is humiliating, and completely alien. It’s a fascination, a compulsion, that Levi doesn’t know what to do with. So he sits with it, squirming and frustrated, furious at nothing, compromised, and hopes that it dies on its feet, like everything else does.

He’s embarrassed, sure, but he isn’t here to play nice. Erwin can try and catch him out with his mind games and his tricks, get him to admit something he doesn’t understand, and then treat him like a colleague, but Levi isn’t going to rise to it. He throws his own jacket over one shoulder and heads for the barracks while Erwin’s still laughing with his friends. It’s too personal a moment for Levi to be privy to, anyway.

000

My Captain,

Congratulations are in order, I believe. Quite the achievement. I imagine you did it almost single-handedly, and what brilliant hands they are.

See me before you leave. I would like to hear you talk about the expedition, and what you hope to achieve, since I’ve grown so passionate about the regiment. Perhaps I might even be able to encourage you to come back from the mission alive. 

As ever, I await your pleasure,

Harriet

There is a pile of letters on Erwin's desk as high as the rim of his water glass. His eyes are heavy from a day in the sun. He’s warm with pleasant fatigue, and wants to go to bed. Instead, he sifts through the correspondences and replies to those he needs to. 

He doesn’t need to see Harriet; they’ve got what they wanted. But, if Erwin does survive this mission, he’ll need to keep her sweet for the next one. He knows she isn’t a time-waster; she always delivers. 

Not for the first time, he weighs up his worth in time. Time spent with Harriet is time taken away from HQ, planning and training and stepping into sync with his squad. He must balance the reward of her donation with the benefits of staying focused before an expedition. This is what his life is, now; what he must do, how much he is needed and how much he risks in the process. It is a careful equation of reputation vs financial gain, physical strength vs mental capacity, his squad’s trust vs the respect that comes with distance. He might not make it back, and then he would have spent one of his last days on earth convincing a woman of feelings that aren’t there. He’d rather spend it with those he is riding into battle alongside, if he is honest with himself.

Harriet likes to make him undress himself, and then sometimes will just sit there, reclined on her couch, and look at him. It makes him feel like the livestock they line up in Mitras market and assess for disease and breeding potential, ranking them from most to least valuable. He always leaves her house smelling like her perfume, since she wears so much of it.

He’ll go, he supposes. Rudeness does not come naturally to him, and idleness even less so. If there is a potential future benefit, and all it will cost him is a few hours of laughing at her quips and letting her put her mouth where she wants, he’ll do it. He replies to the letter on the same piece of paper, folding it into an envelope with the return address. 

It’s dark by the time he has finished with his paperwork. He peers out of the window; hot, balmy, with no sign of rain. The sky is spattered with stars. The trees are still without a breeze to stir them. The moon is waning. He douses the main lamp until he is lit only by candles and locks his door. He feels wistful, distant, not unhappy just...not quite present. When he lifts up the floorboard behind the bookcase, his hand comes away clean. Levi must have swept and scrubbed here, too. Perhaps he knew about the compartment, then. Erwin knows he never took the books out; the careful placement of the ribbon he uses as a bookmark signals that only he himself has moved these books. Maybe he didn’t bother looking at what was inside. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he allowed Erwin his privacy.

The barracks seem very quiet tonight, as he flicks through the pages he knows so well. The words that got his father killed feel light and dry under his fingertips. They would go up in flames, or smear and slip away in the rain, or simply lie unobtrusively under the floor should Erwin die on the mission, fading and forgotten. He marvels at that; at the ephemeral nature of knowledge. He is fuelled by this, driven almost mad by it; by words he can’t read and stories he doesn’t understand. It’s a sickness in his bloodstream that keeps coming back with more and more ferocity, and one day it will kill him; of this he is certain. 

His father asked questions, but he...he will be able to find the answers. That is where they differ. That is how he can atone.

The books now make him think of Levi, of course. He doesn’t have time for daydreaming, and his feelings towards Levi are not all positive. He thinks of his fury, how he jumped to conclusions and settled on an answer that suited his closed-off, distrusting nature. He is hot-headed and hostile, and Erwin resents that he has to make everything more complicated than it needs to be.

Well, perhaps that was Erwin’s fault. He has an inkling that Levi isn’t all that well-versed in physical intimacy. Of course he lashed out, protecting himself. 

Besides, things are complicated. There’s no place for tenderness in their lives, even if Levi did want it. Erwin thinks of him in shades of reds and greys, honest and authentic, refreshing and terrifying, a sharp blade slicing through the meat of it all, cold clarity in a world of digressions and diplomacy. When Erwin first saw him, a small whip of a figure cutting past him in the air, like a ghost, like a god, eyes somehow steady and burning at the same time, he knew he’d have him. He’d seen his distaste, his resistance, and knew he must redirect it. He’d make him see that Erwin and the Scouts weren’t the enemy. He’d fine-tune him and wield him, keep him close and sharp and loyal, and then they’d be unstoppable together. Even when he knew that Levi was coming for his neck, he couldn’t move the hope in his chest, the excitement, the fascination with him, with this stunted thief from the Underground who had the power of an avenging angel. 

And then Levi delivered on all of it; on his skill, his betrayal, his cunning, his ferocity, his unquenchable fire and his stubborn, compassionate heart. Erwin feels empty beside him, feels cowed and common, sometimes feels unworthy of casting Levi in shadow, if he is honest with himself.

Sometimes he cannot believe that Levi exists. He cannot believe that, for some serendipitous reason, he has chosen to follow Erwin, chosen to trust him. His feelings are not of simple lust, or even romantic interest. Of course he wants to touch him, to feel him shudder, to see his eyes glaze over. He wants it all from Levi - the anger and hatred, too - because he asked for it all that day underground, in the dirt, looking down on Levi, as Levi deigned to look up at him. Mine.

He won’t think on that. He won’t allow himself the indulgence of possession. He will tuck Levi away into the cold, pragmatic corner of his mind and leave him there. It isn’t what he deserves, but it’s what must be done. Erwin cannot afford this personal weakness. He cannot afford to get stuck in Levi’s orbit.

There is a drawing of the sun, rendered in gold leaf, across two pages of the book, the illegible text written around it, surrounding it, crowding close to its eternally static rays like moths around a lamp. Erwin lets his eyes unfocus, staring at the pages until it is a reflective golden blur, like the real sun.

He wonders how effective he will be at keeping his distance. He knows first hand that an idea is dangerous. Once it is planted, is there ever a way to stop it from growing?

000

“You got a death wish?”

Levi thought the showers would be safe, especially so early in the morning, but apparently for Hange there is no barrier uncrossable in the name of science.

“Isn’t that a requirement of our regiment?” They say brightly. Levi functions just fine in the mornings, but given that he’s usually quiet and sullen anyway that’s likely because being tired doesn’t change his demeanour all that much. Hange, on the other hand, seems to have an endless supply of energy. They have an unhinged glitter in their eyes that makes Levi think they haven’t slept.

“I really hope you’ve come here for a bath.” He says, stepping out of the cubicle, towel wrapped around his hips, cracking his neck.

“Oh, there will be time for that later, I’m sure! I always get so pumped before an expedition, I find I’ve got far too much work to be doing to bother with stuff like that.”

“Stuff like keeping clean?” He says, disgusted. He dries himself off, rubbing at his hair, doesn’t give a shit that he’s naked. Let Hange stare at his ass, if they want to.

They don’t seem to notice, or care for that matter, and continue to prattle on.

“There’s far too much to finalise, you see? A lot of my hypotheses need that extra kick to get them over the line. I was talking to Erwin about titan’s limited mobility at night, and thought about that mushroom, remember? It subsisted with little to no water, and just sunlight.”

“Titans are mushrooms; is that what you’re saying?” He drawls before he can stop himself, and then winces as he pulls on his underwear, annoyed at himself for encouraging them this early in the morning.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but maybe! Fungi have a very complex genetic makeup, unlike that of animals or plants, according to what I have observed. They’re decay, you know? They are something living that breaks down the dead. How do they decompose, I wonder? Do mushrooms grow more mushrooms when they rot?”

Levi starts shaving, concentrating on the blade on his cheek and not the rant Hange works themselves up into.

“And titans are similar, no? They exist to kill. Nourishment isn’t the goal, it’s annihilation. They’re more similar to fungi than to plants and animals then, surely? Which leads me onto my thoughts about spore reproduction…”

Levi rolls his eyes. They see him in the mirror. 

“Oh! Look at me, getting all carried away! That’s not what I came here for!”

“You mean you didn’t walk in on me in the shower to lecture me about mushrooms?”

“No, I’ve had a theory about your abilities, actually.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, and I wanted to ask you some questions about…” They trail off. Levi finishes shaving his chin and shoots them a confused look. It is rare for them to pause in such a way when they get going. They look suddenly solemn, strangely sheepish, tucking their bottom lip between their teeth.

“What?” Levi says snappishly.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened the day Isabel and Farlan died, if that’s alright? You don’t have to. I’m sure it’s still fresh.”

They’re right. It is still fresh. It will always feel new and it will never go away. They said their names, though. Hange remembers their names, and said them softly, with fondness and grief. It unsettles a boulder-like weight in Levi’s stomach to hear Hange form those words, and look earnestly into his eyes as they do so.

“What has that got to do with anything?”

Hange sits down on a wooden bench. The steam from Levi’s shower is making their hair even frizzier.

“I heard about the remains of the titan that killed them. I heard about what you did to it. Mike said he’d never seen anything like it. I thought perhaps grief, and rage, and despair, are conduits to your supernatural abilities.”

He doesn’t remember killing the titan. That is the truth. There was shock, then pain, then Erwin, then nothing. That’s all he remembers.

“My abilities aren’t supernatural.”

“Alright. But the way you cut that thing up...Mike said its head was off?”

Levi tries to think, shaving his throat to try to steady his hand. “Yeah, I think so.”

“How did you do that?”

Levi sighs. “I don’t remember.” After he washes off the blade, he leans against the sink, his head dropping as an unwelcome barrage of images flick across his eyes. “I don’t remember anything, ok?”

“So you were just...acting on instinct? There was no method or thought behind it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Do you remember cutting apart its hand? Do you remember killing it?”

“Not really, no.”

“So you must have switched off. That could be grief, could be trauma or shock, but your body moved on its own. It didn’t just dispose of the threat, it sought revenge: brutal and bloody and painful. You inflicted all that damage on it while it was still alive, and sliced the nape last because you wanted it to suffer, yes?”

Levi’s vision blurs. He feels his heart in his throat; a muted, faraway panic. A horror relived in clinical, detached details. The numbness creeps in again. His body does that, too; protects him from feeling the worst of it by making him feel nothing at all.

“I...I don’t remember. Yes. I think I wanted it to suffer. I wanted to hurt it, so I didn’t kill it until I was done. So it would suffer. So it would...it would know…”

Hange is tentative and soft-spoken with their questions, for once. They lean forward on the bench. Levi can feel them looking at his face, how he schools it into apathy.

“I think whatever makes you exceptional is like an instinct. You can’t control it, it just knows to fight, or to protect. You perform incredible feats, impossible for others, and aren’t even aware that you’re doing it. You have a passion and drive all of your own, I see that, but I think your abilities spike when you’re scared, when you are fearful for the safety of others important to you, and it drives you to protect them, or to cause pain to those who have hurt them.”

“Isn’t…”

Isabel had been attacked, once, a few months after joining him and Farlan. Levi found her in time, down a side street, hissing and screaming and kicking back like he knew she would. He doesn’t remember fighting the men off, only that he killed one of them; snapped his neck without even thinking. He never saw the other two again. Isabel had only been hanging around that area to get some tea on the black market that she knew Levi liked.

Love is painful. It is exclusively, debilitatingly painful. It is glutinous, unyielding and persistent. He never should have let them come on the expedition, but he hated seeing them upset at his apparent lack of trust. He just...didn’t want them to be upset. And now they are dead.

“Isn’t that how everyone feels? Isn’t that what everyone does?” He asks, childlike, because he is genuinely confused.

“Yes.” Hange says. It’s sympathetic rather than pitiful. “But not everyone can do what you can do.”

“Guess I’m lucky then.” He mumbles, straightening his back, looking at his face again, still partially-smeared with shaving cream. His tired, sunken eyes, his downturned mouth, the bitter set of his jaw - the anguish and exhaustion in his ugliness.

“Sorry for dredging it up, I just thought if I could share my theory with you, you might be able to utilise it?”

“How?” He growls through his teeth, cleaning the leftover cream from his face.

“I’m not sure, but it seems that your emotions are both completely separate from and the key to unlocking your abilities.”

“Find me more friends to kill off, and I’ll wipe all the titans out myself: is that what you want?”

It comes out a little harsh, but Hange is becoming adept at managing his temper.

“I’m just saying that if you feel instinctively protective of something or someone, it might amplify your skills.”

“Try to care, huh? That’s the opposite of what’s sensible in this place.” He rubs his aftershave on. It’s cheap stuff, but it smells clean. He wonders where Erwin gets his from. His smells like wood and grass.

“Yes, I suppose that is a good point. We all have to grow accustomed to loss.”

“But if I feel it worse, I’ll be more useful?”

Hange seems to realise what they are suggesting, and backtracks.

“I think you care plenty, Levi. More than you’d like people to know. I just think that if you had a better grasp of your ability, you might be able to harness it less erratically. Maybe there won’t be a need for tragedy, then.”

Levi pulls on his shirt and drags a comb through his damp hair. He doesn’t feel the need to formulate a response. He’s given Hange more than enough emotional toil for them to squint at.  He doesn’t have time to brood before breakfast. 

“Sorry! I get so carried away, you would probably rather be alone. I’ll see you later, Levi!” They say, about five minutes too late, bouncing out of the showers. Levi frowns after them as he cleans his teeth.

It’s pointless; thinking about why things are the way that they are, like Hange does; prodding at a sleeping beast, skirting too close to its den. Things just... are. And mostly, things are shit. You just have to deal with them as best you can and try not to lose a finger. Levi knows that a lot of the Scouts’ progress in the last few years has been thanks to Erwin and Hange’s curious, overworked minds, but he can’t break his own instinct. Don’t touch something you don’t understand; it’s more likely to be full of poison than syrup. 

After training, he avoids people for the rest of the day. He’s drained and moody from his early interaction with Hange, and doesn’t want to have to be polite to his squadmates when he’d rather get his room clean. One one of his bunkmates is in, and he raises an eyebrow at Levi but says nothing, by now presumably accustomed to his quirks of habit, and mercifully makes himself scarce. Levi cleans every crevice, clears every surface of dust, including the tiny surface on top of the doorframe, and resigns himself to making only his own bed. He doesn’t want to touch the others’. He isn’t sure they’d be glad to find out he had either. 

He has a meeting with some of the squad leaders after dinner. It’s unspoken, but Levi can tell Erwin is grooming him for promotion already; an extra responsibility that he doesn’t need and doesn’t want. He figures the way it works in the Scouts is that if you’re still alive after a certain amount of time, you get promoted to squad leader. That’s basically the only requirement. It can’t be anything to do with people skills or leadership ability, because Levi would fail both with flying colours. He supposes Hange is next. They are at the meeting too.

It’s mostly Erwin talking about the expedition, handing out responsibilities and throwing around long technical words that Levi suspects he only uses to make himself sound clever. Shadis has other, more important things to do, apparently, and has left everything to his non-official second-in-command. Hange’s sitting opposite Levi, scribbling everything down. They’re wearing glasses but have another pair of goggles pushed up onto their forehead, and it looks ridiculous. There are a couple of other not-yet-squad-leaders around the table; Nanaba and Gelgar and Sells. Levi rests his cheek against his fist and tries to listen to what Erwin is saying.

“Our next checkpoint is here, five hundred meters from the river settlement. It is also our reconvening location should we get scattered on this leg. Gershin and Julien will have this as their rendezvous, along with the left flank of supply wagons. Now, further south there will be…”

Levi knows that Erwin leads as a compulsion, as a means to an end, because it comes naturally and he is good at it, and not because he is power-hungry or conceited. Levi can tell if a guy’s all talk, if he actually has skin in the game, or if he just likes the way ‘sir’ sounds, and Erwin isn’t one of those guys. Still, it’s at times like these, with Erwin drawing invisible lines across the map in front of him and explaining to his comrades what he sees in the landscape that they don’t, that Levi wonders if he likes it. It must be nice, he muses, to be listened to, to be obeyed without question. Erwin commands the room, not like Shadis does, with his title and his age and his mean streak, but with his presence. He is level-headed, intelligent and charismatic. He was born to do this. Levi wonders, therefore, if he enjoys it.

Still, it must be exhausting, keeping it up all the time. Levi has led his own team before, but smaller and with less at stake, and if people died, well, that was their own fault. They weren’t cut out for it. Erwin is playing his game with the lives of hundreds on the line, and, if Levi considers the bigger picture for once, the lives of everybody inside the Walls. That can’t be fun, can it? That must be back-breaking. Levi wonders how he can stand it sometimes.

The meeting goes on, and Levi begins to get thirsty. Gershin pipes up when Erwin explains the relay route, and then they argue for about twenty minutes about needlessly endangering recruits in unfamiliar territory. Levi only half-listens.

“You’ll be exposing them to the East - that’s a death sentence.”

“It is not. The terrain may be unfamiliar, however it is the safest route to keep them in the optimum position to serve their function.”

“You don’t know that.” Gershin sounds angry. He is usually respectful, even friendly, with Erwin, but today he’s on edge.

“It is an educated guess.”

“More of your guessing and estimations then? Even after Scholtz died for the last one?”

“Yes.” Says Erwin, ever-blunt, always honest.

“You’re putting the new kids in danger, Erwin.”

“We will all be in danger. They will be able to communicate with the third and fourth support squad, and as a result will hopefully not have to engage with titans at all.”

“If the support squads get there in time, that is.”

“Yes. If the support squads get there in time.”

“Otherwise they’re sitting ducks. Exposed, inexperienced, probably jumpy on their first expedition. I’d be surprised if any of them made it back.”

“You do not trust the training?”

“They’re still underprepared.”

“So you do not trust me?”

Most people seem to trust Erwin. Levi had thought Gershin did.

Gershin stares at Erwin, his fist against the table, a tremble in the lines between his eyebrows. Erwin looks composed as ever, his face receptive and calm.

“I think you’re being reckless with young lives.”

“They are ours to do with as I see fit. They gave them to the Corps, remember?”

“That’s...callous, Erwin.”

“It is not. It is efficient. I do not want children to die needlessly, however we will get nowhere without taking risks. This whole mission is a risk. I have placed the relay squads where I think will protect them best while still enabling them to do their duty. Anywhere else and the horses would be at risk, and more lives would be lost. Do you think I would place our cadets in danger if I didn’t think it was the only option, Gershin?”

Gershin’s lips are slightly parted. Through them, Levi can see his gritted teeth.

“These plans have been approved by Commander Shadis. He sees that my formation is the best way forward. Of course it is not ideal, but nothing in this line of work is ideal. If you are concerned for the recruits, then make sure you do your job and keep them safe as far as you can.”

Gershin sees Erwin has a point. His nostrils flare. Levi crosses his legs and watches now with more interest. Hange has stopped scribbling.

“Do you have further concerns?” Erwin asks, levelly. Levi isn’t on the receiving end and even he wants to punch him for being such a smartass.

“No.” Gershin forces out. He looks down at the table, still visibly irate. 

It is then that Levi realises something fundamental about how the Scouts work. They trust each other, sure - he will admit that he trusts Erwin, so if he managed to win Levi over, chances are the rest feel the same way. He’s capable and intelligent, and his self-confidence is reassuring. He produces results, not without loss, but still. It feels like they’re going somewhere, and it feels like Erwin is leading them there.

But it isn’t trust that allows Erwin to easily assume leadership. It isn’t belief in his judgement, or his ability, or his intelligence, or his devotion. It’s fear. Gershin could argue his case with Erwin all night. Hell, he might even be right. But he won’t, because nobody wants to be the reason why thirty new recruits died preventable deaths. And every death in the Scouts is preventable; don’t leave the Walls and you’ll survive.

So it falls to Erwin, not because he is worthy, but because he is ruthless. People defer to him because they don’t want to call the shots and risk being wrong, or being less-right than he could have been. He takes charge because he will shoulder the burden of thousands of deaths, hundreds of lost friends and empty bunks and last meals, when no one else wants to. He can bear it: that is why he will lead. That is why he will be commander, one day.

By any means necessary. Must be tiring. Levi both pities and envies him.

“Levi. You’ll be on the front left flank.” He’s looking at him now. What had he been saying?

Levi shrugs, leans back in his chair, lets his boredom leak out of his posture.

“Sure.”

Some of the gathered officers look shocked. Perhaps he hadn’t reacted properly. 

“It will be dangerous. I am tasking you with protecting the centre rank. That is where our most valuable assets are.”

“Like you?” He says, meaning it as a jab.

“No. I will be leading the formation alongside the commander. Weren’t you listening?”

The annoyance at being belittled in front of a room full of his superiors flickers and fizzles. He wasn’t listening, to be fair. 

“Then what am I protecting?”

“The essential supply wagons and our medics.”

“Right.”

Erwin holds his gaze for a few extra seconds, almost as if he expects Levi to snap back at him. Hasn’t he picked up on anything? Levi doesn’t pull that shit in front of other people anymore. He won’t have another deserter like Samuel, running away because Erwin’s authority wasn’t reliable. 

He is clearly waiting to see if Levi objects to being put in prime titan-feeding position. He doesn’t. He’d rather it was him than someone less capable, which would be anyone else in the Corps.

Erwin seems satisfied, goes back to handing out positions, tweaking details now that the budget allows for leniency. Levi thinks about Erwin riding at the head of the formation, where Levi can’t see him. It’ll be a big mission, with nearly every Scout beyond the Walls. Levi probably won’t see Erwin until they reach the outpost. If Erwin dies on the way, he won’t see him at all after leaving the gate.

Erwin’s clever, but not clever enough to be careful with his own life. It seems counter-intuitive, to Levi at least, to be so passionately chasing answers while also being willing to forfeit your chance to get them. Erwin’s seen so much death, rationalised loss to the point of professional detachment, that Levi’s a little concerned that he won’t be careful with his own life. Sometimes, it’s almost like he wants to die for the cause.

But there is no cause without Erwin. Not that Levi can see, anyway.

While he watches him talk, his eyes firm, his chin set at an assured right-angle, his gestures certain, Levi thinks once again of his perishable flesh. Erwin’s skin is Scout real estate, his blood is a liquid bargain. He has dedicated his heart, and sold his soul in the process. It is an exchange that appears to be on Erwin’s terms, but Levi sees it now as somewhat desperate. He can’t waver, can’t pause and breathe, isn’t even allowed to keep intimacy to himself, and yet he presses forward. It’s remarkable. Levi is suddenly so aware of the parts of Erwin that aren’t as stony as his conviction; the freckles on his forearms, the scar across his palm, the pulse beating at the base of his throat, the bitten breadth of his collarbone, his stupid, dignified nose, and the spot under it that he nicked while he was shaving. He’s all bones and blood, sinew and skin, this impossible stretch of ideas and theories shackled in a mortal shell, his heart caged by ribs. If you broke him, he’d break. If Levi had forced his blade into his throat, that day in the rain, he would have died at his feet.

Levi doesn’t want Erwin to die. He has come to terms with the fact that he will, they all will, probably sooner rather than later, but that feels...incomplete regarding Erwin. Levi isn’t done with him yet. If he stumbles, where will that leave Levi? It’s like he’s peered at the foundations of his house and found them to be built on unstable ground. 

He wants to keep Erwin, he decides. Not for humanity, but for himself. It’s another childish musing, another thought that has no place in the dark cave of his head, and he would never admit it out loud, least of all to Erwin. But it’s true. After all his bravado and bullshit, he’s started to care, to grow weak. He’s been so caught up in the colour of his feelings that he hasn’t even contemplated the fact that they’re actually... there. It’s nice to have someone to rely on, to trust, and who trusts him. It’s been interesting, even rewarding, to form a bond with someone so seemingly out-of-reach. He wants to keep it. He won’t let Erwin die. Erwin must promise him that he won’t.

Erwin’s eyes flit to him, and then away again; a nano-second of contemplation and then onto the next problem. Levi’s features do not falter. He is an impassive mask atop a crude and callous figure. 

Erwin dismisses them after another ten minutes of talking. Levi thinks he gets the gist of his job; protect the important ones and try not to die. 

“Were you paying attention, Levi?” Erwin intones, drawing his papers into a pile.

“Yes.” Levi says bluntly; a half-lie. 

“You looked distracted.” Erwin says. He could have imbued the accusation with some throughline of innuendo, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

“I was processing.”

“Alright.” 

It’s awkward, apparently, between them now. It seems stupid to Levi to fret about something so inconsequential when they all might be dead in a week. Implications and niceties and feelings are unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and Erwin seems to have arrived at the same conclusion. He valiantly forces through the charged atmosphere, carrying the extra weight of Levi’s disinterest in making things more bearable. Once more, it all falls to Erwin to set things right again. In this instance, however, Levi can’t bring himself to take on some of the burden.

So we want to fuck each other, big deal. I doubt that’s rare in a place like this. It’s not gonna happen, though. For one, I can’t afford him. Besides, I’m too proud and he’s too busy. It’s gonna be like this until we die, which could be blissfully soon, come to think of it .

Levi’s interest in Erwin will be passing, he knows. He’s not even sure what direction it compels him in yet, and he isn’t going to give it enough attention to figure it out. That sort of thing is filthy, animalistic, embarrassing, pointless and pathetic. He doesn’t understand it and he doesn’t care to. What limited experience he has with sex was enough to put him off it for good. So no, he won’t be fucking his squad leader, and that’s just as well considering what a spanner in the works it could turn out to be if he did.

“I trust you’ll keep yourself safe.” Says Erwin, without looking at him, as clear and authoritative as ever. 

“I always do.” Levi says, heading for the door. Hange is hanging around. Levi’s not sure he can put up with any more of their talking. Up until now, he’s been polite.

“You too.” Levi adds, as he leaves, without considering it. It feels unnatural, a bit too honest, a bit too close to what he’d been thinking about. Erwin doesn’t seem moved by the sentiment. His gaze is steely, and he just nods. Levi leaves him to it, and, seeing Hange distracted briefly by Moblit, slips away. He’ll walk this meeting off. There is still no sign of rain.

Chapter Text

He has a choice, and this is the choice he has made. He can glean some comfort from the fact that he is here of his own volition, because he believes in seeing things through to the end.

Perhaps this will be the end. The sunset seems closer than ever. He’s not sure if it is trepidation or excitement stirring his stomach.

Harriet asks him to take her out for dinner. Erwin is usually against such a public display of favor, however he is known to be friendly with her husband, and she assures him it is not uncommon for high-ranking nobles to be seen with their military equivalent. Erwin lets her think she has convinced him. He has already made inquiries, judged the restaurant’s clientele, and deemed it safe for himself. 

He expects her to push the boundaries he establishes when they are out in public together, but other than pawing at his shirt when he helps her down from her carriage, she is uncharacteristically restrained. Her dress is lavish, an eye-catching shade of purple, and the grey in her hair glitters with tiny flecks of gold that she has sprinkled there. He is plain beside her, in his black suit. His dress shoes are uncomfortable.

“It was nice of you to agree to dinner. You usually bend over backwards to avoid having to be seen with me.” She says when they are seated. 

This isn’t true. Or at least, Erwin thought he did a pretty good job of disguising it.

“My duties keep me very busy.” He says, low and familiar, attempting a fond tone of you know this already, dear.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. Your work is very important.” The way she waves her hand around dismissively indicates she does not in fact think his work is that important. “And so it is nice to have you all to myself, outside of my rooms for once.”

He smiles, nods, allows his shoulders to loosen. “It is. Thank you for inviting me.”

She sees through his pleasantries, and always has, but she enjoys them nevertheless and so Erwin maintains them. It’s all part of the facade, he thinks, this complex tapestry they’ve weaved out of beautifully-colored smoke. 

“You look wonderful.” Erwin says. He has mastered the art of delivering a compliment with the right blend of reverence and simplicity, so that it rings honest without overdoing it. She smiles; all red lips and teeth.

“Thank you. I wanted an excuse to wear this for you.”

Erwin wonders if she believes the lie to a certain extent. Her bodice is tight enough to emphasise and frame her cleavage. She has powered her throat. Perhaps she thinks that he wants her authentically, at least a little, at least after all this time. The dress is meant to tantalise him; perhaps she harbours a fantasy of sleeping with him without the expectation of payment. Perhaps she dreams of truly seducing him. Erwin doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know if she could. He has spent so long pretending to want her that he’s not sure he’d be able to tell if he genuinely did.

The thought makes him doubt himself, which is not a good sign. If he couldn’t tell with Harriet, how could he be sure that Levi wasn’t right? What if, subconsciously, he had been offering him a form of payment, in exchange for his abilities. Maybe Levi has a point. Maybe they have fucked him up inside. 

The slow build, the lit kindling of desire, burning hot and insistent in the bottom of his stomach, is not like this. With Levi, he’d felt a wave swelling, a storm approaching, the churning exhilaration and fear of the gate in the Walls opening. Erwin knows what is beyond, knows it is dangerous, and feels the drive to move forward anyway.

“Did your excursion up to Orvud District go as planned?” He asks, as the waiter pours their wine.

“Almost.” She rolls her eyes, takes a big drink, dabs at the corners of her lips. “One of the horses fell, my mother’s cart horse, she always did cut corners when it came to buying quality stock, and so we were waylaid by a couple of hours. But when we got there it was magnificent.”

He listens to her talk about her trip. His ears prick up when she mentions an Orvud lord recently fallen into disgrace, and files his name away for later. He allows her to order her meal first, and then orders what he assumes she will find complimentary; the right amount of meat to be masculine, but not enough to be extravagant. He will insist on paying for his, of course, but even now he cannot let his guard down.

“And you have a trip planned also, captain? Can’t get enough of those titans, can you?”

He smirks, bows his head. “It does sound rather unsavoury when you phrase it like that, Harriet.”

“I never did understand your motive to risk your life like that.”

You have never asked me, Erwin thinks.

“Perhaps it is not something I can articulate properly.” Erwin says.

She seems satisfied with that, and continues talking about the state of her mother’s gardens. Erwin waits patiently for his meal to arrive and when it does, he eats in regular, measured bites. She has a lot to say. He offers his lukewarm opinion when asked and nods when not. Harriet likes him doting in conversation and domineering in bed. It is a mold he slips back into with very little effort.

After their main course, a group approaches their table; well-dressed and rosy-cheeked. 

“Harriet!” One of the women says, bending down to kiss her cheek. She is a short, mousy woman hanging off the arm of a pale, slender wisp of a man. The other two are red heads, and similar enough in features that Erwin takes them to be siblings. 

“Constance, what a surprise!” Erwin doesn’t think Harriet finds it a pleasant surprise. “Hello Howard. And Fran and Oskar, it is a pleasure to see you again.” 

Constance swings her head around to Erwin, who offers her a small, neutral smile. 

“I recognise you.” She says.

Erwin is silent, knowing that Harriet would want to introduce him, to show off her prize.

“This is Erwin Smith. He is a squad leader in the Survey Corps. Shadis’ right-hand, don’t you know.” She smirks at him over the rim of her wine glass, as if they are in on a secret. 

“Of course, the Scouts! The ones you remember are the ones that make it back from more than three missions!” Fran says, loudly, with an accompanying cackle, that her brother echoes.

Erwin chuckles politely. “My proudest achievement to date is my continued survival.”

“Ah, good to see you have a sense of humour.” Says Oskar. Constance has flagged down a waiter. Erwin knows where this is going.

“May we join you, Harriet?”

“Of course.”

The waiter adds another table to their existing one, and carries over four chairs. They order two more bottles of wine and Harriet peruses the dessert list.

“How do you two know each other then?”

I give her orgasms in exchange for military funding. “We are old acquaintances. We met at a ball and I got on well with her husband. He’s busy this evening, but she didn’t want the reservation to go to waste.” Erwin lies easily. Harriet smiles, satisfied.

“Why, Harriet dear, have you not brought him along to any of your functions?”

“His job keeps him very busy.”

“Ah, of course! Those titans won’t slay themselves!” Says Oskar, but his tone is just a little sarcastic.

“Where are your family from?”

“Stohess.” Erwin lies. 

“Smith is a common name - are you lowborn, then?”

The question isn’t meant to be rude, so Erwin doesn’t take it that way. 

“Yes.”

“You look very young. Already a squad leader?”

They think that is unusual for someone with no family connections. It is not unusual in the Scouts. 

“Erwin is very clever. Commander Shadis relies on him a lot. He will be commander himself, someday.”

If I live long enough. 

“Really. And that is what you want? Promising young man like yourself, and you want to lead the Survey Corps?" Asks Oskar. He can’t be more than ten years older than Erwin, so it seems strange for him to talk down to him like this. 

“It is where my passion lies.”

“In titans?”

“In exploration. That is the Survey Corps' primary goal: surveillance and exploration. The titans are just an…obstacle.”

“I see. An idealist. That’s refreshing.” Says Constance. Her eyes glitter with interest. 

“That’s not very intelligent, though.” Says Fran. She orders herself a dessert and finishes her glass of wine. Erwin takes the napkin off his lap and folds it on the table. 

“What are they like, then?” Constance asks. Erwin is concerned that Harriet will be displeased with his attention taken off her, but she seems content, sitting back in her chair, sipping her wine, watching him darkly with open interest. 

Proof of an uncaring god, he’s half-tempted to say, just to see their faces. Instead, he says “huge, stupid and persistent.”

“Are you afraid of them?” Asks Fran. 

“Yes.” Says Erwin. “You never quite get used to them. They have dead eyes and move unnaturally. They look like men, but emphatically are not. Some of them grin while they eat you.”

Constance blanches a bit. The siblings look interested. Constance’s husband looks down at his lap. Harriet smirks. 

“You must be a brave man to face them.” Says Oskar. His sister shudders beside him. 

“It is a necessity if we want to expand our borders.” Nobles like talk of border expansion. Much more than talk of uncovering the government’s secrets, anyway. It brings to mind their land swelling, their influence spreading. 

“How long have you been in the Scouts?”

“Officially? Almost ten years.”

“Incredible. You must have seen a lot of death. Lost a lot of comrades.” Constance says, almost eager. 

“Yes.”

“Then enjoy life’s luxuries while you can!” Oskar says clinking his full glass against Erwin’s empty one and laughing loudly, not caring if he disturbs other patrons. His sister joins in. 

I am doing it for you, Erwin wants to say. I am risking my life, and losing everyone close to me, for a future for all of us. 

That surge of revulsion takes over again, sweeping through the base of his stomach. He panders to these people for the good of the cause, for the promise of answers that he selfishly craves, but he can only take the humiliation if he believes it is for a greater purpose, enough good to outweigh the shame. But what does it matter if he gets answers? What does it matter if he furthers the fight of humanity? Humanity doesn’t care. They don’t want to lift a finger, let alone lose a limb. Erwin sustains himself by thinking he’s better than them, ultimately, because he can see further and dream bigger, but he’s the same. That’s where this disgust comes from. He’s chasing something. He craves luxury too, just the luxury of being right. The luxury of validation. If he dies in pursuit of his goal, these people who he flattered and humored won’t think of him as noble and just, as seeing something bigger. They’ll think of him as the man who slept his way around the upper classes of Sina, and agreed politely with everything they said. 

This resentment sours the rest of the evening for him, but he’s come this far and he won’t let his mood waylay his duty. The five friends chatter and laugh, drinking their way through four more bottles of wine, and ask Erwin trivial questions to satisfy base curiosity: how close have you come to death? Do you have a wife? What’s the worst thing you’ve seen beyond the Walls? Have you met the king? Are all Scouts mad?

Maybe Harriet sees he is growing dispassionate, despite how hard he fights to hide it. He keeps his back straight and his smile serene, and allows Constance to ask him about his friends, the boys he was in the cadets with, the girls he knew before he became duty-bound. A year ago, maybe even a month ago, he’d scope her out as an easy target. He knows what lust looks like, knows what she’s thinking as she asks him about his bolo tie, his heritage, if his parents had hair as blonde as him, eyes as blue. Her husband is the most off-putting of all of them, sitting there with his blank expression, his pale skin almost translucent, his long, thin limbs folded into himself like he’s trying to take up as little room as possible. He rarely cracks a smile. He watches Erwin closely, but doesn’t give any indication of being bothered by his wife’s obvious interest in him. 

Harriet grows tired, or perhaps jealous, and insists that Erwin sees her home, on her husband’s orders. Erwin imagines that her husband is either already in bed, or out of town. They pay for their meal, but they won’t let Erwin pay his share. 

“You might be dead in a week! This one’s on us, captain!” Oskar declares. It irritates Erwin further. He feels like a child, like a novelty. Dinner’s entertainment. 

Why is this bothering me so much tonight?

He shakes Oskar’s hand. He takes Fran’s, would normally kiss it, can’t bring himself to, so bows his head instead. Constance sweeps in and kisses him on the cheek. 

“It was so lovely to meet you.” She says, eyes wide and glittering. He smiles and thanks her. 

He shakes Howard’s hand, his huge round eyes boring holes into Erwin’s face. Then he says, in a wispy voice, “thank you for what you do, Captain Smith.” 

It unsettles Erwin. He swallows before he thanks him. 

He’s rattled the whole journey back to Harriet’s house. She presses up against the side of him and pecks possessive kisses against his neck. He moves his hand to her thigh and she moves it higher. He lets her ride out the journey like that, grinding herself against hand, biting at his earlobe, breathing heavily against his face. 

When he sees her into her house, it’s like she wants to waste no time. She drags him through the door, not checking for the eyes of servants, kisses him in the foyer, grabbing at his hair and tugging at his suit jacket. Erwin wonders if she’s fantasising about them being sweethearts, sneaking around at night, desperate for the touch of the other, blind to everything but their mutual passion. Erwin tries to match it. 

She takes him to her bedroom this time. Erwin doesn’t know if he tastes finality on her tongue, the bittersweetness of something ending, or if he’s just projecting, but she’s ferocious, consuming. She’s ripped the shirt from him in the dark before he’s even orientated himself properly. 

“I want you on your back. On the bed. I want you to look at me.” She says. Her voice is hoarse and breathy, emerging from the shadows. 

“I will need light to see.” He says. 

She sighs, exasperated, peeling herself off him to light a fire in the fireplace. It comes quickly. It’s gas-supplied. A lot of rich people have that in their homes. Erwin wonders how many ODM canisters could be fuelled from what it takes to keep empty rooms warm in this house. 

“Undress me.” She says when she’s done. He adopts his usual persona, smooth and reverent, his hands careful and his gaze heavy. It seems to work. She melts under his touch. He unlaces her corset, drops her dress in a puddle of purple. He bends to take off her stockings, kisses her thigh, sighs against her skin to show he likes it, that he likes being ordered to touch her. 

She lifts her foot, soft and pale from her lifestyle, presses her toes against his shoulder. He looks up at her, glowing in the low light in only her underwear, all white and red and her glittering grey streaks. He knows her body well. Perhaps he should be moved by her beauty. Perhaps he is. 

“Take your clothes off, captain.” She says. There is an anger to her desire tonight. He has displeased her. 

What does it matter? I’m never doing this again, he thinks for some reason. 

He obliges. He tries to make it less perfunctory and more titillating, feeling foolish all the while but it works. When he’s bare, she stares like a wild animal, teeth nearly bared, panting in her her own bedroom. 

He takes initiative, wraps her in his arms, flesh to flesh, kisses her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Her perfume is potent tonight. She hums, head tilting, trailing her fingers over his chest. 

She turns her face up to his, looks expectant and pleading, so he kisses her. She pulls him in, makes it tender and slow, her arms around him like vines. He wonders about the servants, the carriage driver, the waiters. He thinks about his horse in the stables, and the journey home. He wonders if Levi will be waiting for him on the roof. 

She touches him between his legs. Oh. He’s half-hard. That’s good. He hasn’t had enough wine to feel the disconnect of drunkenness, which is good for his physical reactions and not so good for his mental. She wraps her hand around him possessively and he lets her. He runs soft touches over her breasts because she likes that, and his body might like it too. She pushes her chest into his hand which he knows means she wants him to pinch. It draws a shuddering breath from her. 

“Bed.” She says against his mouth. 

She’s not usually so authoritative. Erwin is usually the one grabbing, pushing, asserting his strength. She likes a struggle, but also to feel delicate, like many noblewomen. You give money to the Survey Corps because they’re soldiers: they’re resilient, strong and courageous. Women want Erwin to give them something they can’t get from other men, but it seems Harriet has crossed over into territory that is personal. It’s like she’s trying to prove a point. Erwin crosses the room and lies back on the bed, as he’s been told. She watches him. Her gaze is heavy with anger, with want. Erwin just lies there and waits, contemplating the canopy suspended by the four posts. 

She slips off her underwear. She keeps her pubic hair short, like many noblewomen, which sometimes brings Erwin out in a rash over his chin. The stretch marks on her hips shine like rivers of silver in the low light. He knows their pattern, knows the map of her. 

He seems to have got the right idea about submitting, because as she moves closer, straddling him, he raises a hand and she bats it away. He feels the wet heat of her against his stomach. 

She looks at him, head tilted to one side, long nails dragging down his chest. She scratches at his skin. It will leave red marks. 

“My golden captain.” She muses calmly, dragging a nail over his nipple, circling her hips down to give herself some friction. “My beautiful lunatic.” It’s like she’s forgotten he’s here, like she’s alone, like she’s looking at a painting, or a book.

She looks up at his face then, tracing a fingertip along his cheekbone. “It will kill you someday. Your passion. Your dream. Your naivety.” 

He tries to hold her hips, but she slaps his hand away, grabbing his face with her other hand, forcing him to look at her. He wonders if she wants to hurt him, like one noblewoman did two years ago. She asked to hit him, to cut him, he said he had to remain presentable, and so they compromised and she spent the evening pouring wax onto him, bending his fingers back, pinching his flesh until it blushed. What must it be like, to have all that anger, and no purpose, no titans, to take it out on? To commit so completely to the lie of the Walls and still want to scream?

“Such a waste. You are brilliant, Erwin. A great mind, a beautiful specimen, a fantastic fuck. Even more, you’re a good man. You’re kind. You let me believe…let me indulge…” She gets distracted, rubbing herself against the jut of his hipbone. 

“What’s the point? Aren’t you tired? All your high ideals, your nobility, your politeness, it infuriates me sometimes…”

She reaches back, touches him, strokes him. His distaste for the evening has knocked him back a few steps, and so he goes through the familiar motions of summoning someone else to mind. He thinks of Marie, of her loud laugh and her pink lips. She would lean her head against his chest while he read, and squeeze his hand when she came. She was witty in company and soft between her thighs. She’s someone else’s girl now, but it’s enough. It’s no longer a fantasy, the feelings long faded, but the memory is good enough to stir him. She groans as he swells in her hand, thinking she has done it. Let her think that she has done it. 

“I want to know you, Erwin. You make me ache. You run from me, behind your eyes, I can see it. Why do you run from me?” She gasps, breathless. His brows draw together, wants to dispute her, decides she would probably rather get it all out. 

“There must be someone else. You are in love with someone else. I can deal with that. It is better, I think, to lose you to another woman than to your cause. Your useless, ridiculous, wasted cause…” She drops her head forward, kisses his chest like it’s his mouth, her eyes closed, looking like she’s grieving. He wills it to rouse some emotion in him, but he’s long left his body. 

She mutters again, he only catches the word “waste”. She kisses his abs, his navel, the tip of his cock, like they’re husband and wife. It makes Erwin think of her friends, of their amused interest, their patronising sympathy. He thinks about riding out of Maria’s gate and those people sealing it shut behind him. 

“You’re mine for now, though. Look at you. You’ll be commander…you’ll be commander…” Her gaze is unfocused with lust, she’s breathing hard. He stares back up at her, his body reluctantly responding to her touch. 

“Oh, Erwin . If only you were like other men.” She says hopelessly, lowering herself onto him. All of the muscles in his legs tense. She sobs at it, at being filled. She takes it well. She always has. She moves her hips a little, head falling back, mouth dropping open, moaning into the still air of her bedroom. Erwin watches as if it’s happening to somebody else. 

Marie’s house was small and cozy. It was near a river, and Erwin sometimes woke to the fisherman going out at dawn, calling to each other from boat to boat. She had too many pillows on her bed, and Erwin always threw them onto the floor in an exaggerated display of irritation to make her laugh. She made cold tea with lemon, and sugar, and rosemary. Her friends said she made them feel safe. She spoke her mind. When Erwin said he was alright, she often didn’t believe him. 

Harriet moves more urgently. She’s noisier than usual. Her husband mustn’t be home. She takes Erwin’s hand and puts it on her breast. He takes that as his cue to touch her, squeezing her there and putting his other hand on her hip, encouraging her. 

Marie smelled like apple blossom. It must have been perfume, but Erwin never saw her apply any. Nile said she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but Erwin had been taken by her manner, her dry humour, her cynicism, her endless empathy. She was clean. She kept her house tidy and her clothes washed. Levi would have approved. Perhaps she came from filth that she was ashamed of, like Levi. He didn’t know a great deal about her upbringing, either. 

He is dragged from his thoughts by Harriet biting his neck. He makes a noise, and she makes one in reply, moving faster, hands scrabbling at his chest, chasing her own pleasure using his body. Like he uses the bodies of his men, perhaps. The men under him that die so he can progress. Maybe it’s like that. 

An idealist, that’s refreshing. 

You must be very brave. 

How can people be apathetic in their world? How can you be happy with this? Dining out, cheating on your husband, lying to your friends, sitting, stewing, overripe, rotting, pointless, pathless…

And him. His brain isn’t enough. He has to use his body, has to lie, has to debase himself. He’s got so good at it that he doesn’t even consider it strange, or wrong, or harmful. I’m sorry, father. I only wanted them to listen to me, to you, to reason. I only wanted people to know, and to care. I wanted to be like you...

No. He can’t think this way now. Not like this, on his back, doing what must be done to prove his father right. His interest cannot wane. He must not falter.

Harriet sits further back, circles her hips tighter, harder, more insistent. It’s an overwhelming pressure, numbing his mind, having him chase his own release as well. The sections of her hair pinned up come undone, falling over her soft shoulders. She moans openly, long nails scratching, eyes consuming. He moves both hands to her hips now.

Yes, Marie - Marie...she’d had others in her bed, but she had loved Erwin. He remembers loving her back, how sharp and clarifying it had been. This is how humans are meant to live, he’d thought. This is what we are supposed to do. He could have had her, if he’d wanted, but he’d wanted answers more. He chose this life of horror and death and paperwork and selling himself over her, because of his selfishness, because of his guilt, because of the burden he carries that he cannot bear to share. And so she’d married Nile, and she and Erwin had fallen out of love, and he is happy for them; truly, genuinely, happy for them. 

He sits upright, surging against Harriet, kissing her chest, pulling her hips against his, meeting her thrusts. She makes a delighted sound. Her nails rake over his shoulders, tangle in his hair…

Marie had dark hair and wide, honest eyes. He sees eyes like hers, sometimes, on the younger recruits, or on citizens of the capital; eyes full of hope and humour, not like the eyes he is usually surrounded with. Not like Levi’s eyes. His eyes are hooded, small, calculating. His eyes have seen horror and remember it. Sometimes, when he looks at Erwin, he thinks he will collapse in on himself. Sometimes, he thinks the razor-focus of those eyes will cut right through him.

He moans against Harriet’s shoulder. She pulls his chin up and kisses him. It is messy and wet. 

Marie kissed him like it was nothing, like they were born to do it. She wasn’t afraid of him, or afraid for him, and she didn’t expect anything of him. She just wanted to kiss him, so she did. Her lips were soft. He remembers their shape. He hasn’t felt that way about a kiss for a long time. He hasn’t kissed someone just because he wanted to in years, until recently, until Levi…

“Oh…” Harriet gasps into his ear. He must have angled his hips right. Her greedy hands clamp around his face and she kisses him again, plunging her tongue into his mouth. “Yes, like that. Make me feel it, Erwin…come on...show me…”

He’s not sure what she means, but she seems once again happy to take what he gives her. She wants to be shown. Alright. He lifts her hips and flips them over, pressing her into her pillows, slamming back into her.

Had he had so concrete a hope, something so tangible to cling to, before he saw Levi? When he flies, he makes Erwin’s doubts about the future vanish. Of course they will win, eventually they will win, because Levi is here, and he has, for whatever reason, chosen to ally with Erwin. It’s a miracle, really. It’s remarkable that he even let Erwin touch him. He feels his gazes these days. He knows what he’s thinking. He can see it written on his face whenever he drops his guard. He wanted the kiss he so revolted against. He wants Erwin’s touch, but he doesn’t know how to ask for it, or what to do with it. Erwin feels the same. If only he’d just...if Levi just said, if he just let himself go...they could...they will be unstoppable.

He’s sweating with exertion, now, back straight, towering over her, spreading her legs, holding her down with a hand on her stomach. Her entire face is flushed, her eyes glazed, her mouth open, chest heaving with pleasure. She looks happy. She looks lost in the sensation. That’s good...it’s good...maybe he should be too...maybe he can be…

Her hair is dark in this light, like Marie’s, like Levi’s. Shining. Touchable. He strokes it from her brow. She is soft like Marie was, all those years ago, pliant and panting, a beautiful body. Levi is hard, run through with steel, unmoveable, off-limits. Erwin doesn’t know what he’d do with him. Maybe he’d want to be kissed, like he kisses Harriet now. Maybe he’d want Erwin to wrap his hands around his waist, like so, and feel the flex and twinge of the muscles there. Maybe he’d glow, and writhe, and groan. Maybe he’d fight back, wrenching Erwin out of his own delusions and forcing him into the present, grabbing and demanding and domineering, a small powder keg setting off an explosion. Maybe he’d lie back and take it like Harriet does, bending under Erwin’s touch, open and pliable, the perfect compliment to him. 

What a stupid line of thinking. The only reason Levi would ever put his hands on him again would be to kill him. Erwin doesn’t want to think of him that way. He wants to keep the figure of Levi whole and uncorrupted in his mind.

He licks along Harriet’s collarbone, feels the hum and twist of her body, knows she is close, moves to push her over the edge. Marie tasted like her soap, like friendship and familiarity, like safety and contentment. Harriet tastes like the metal sting of her perfume, like money, like the wine still on his tongue. He wonders what Levi would taste like, wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to find out.

Levi hates him for this. He is polluted. He disgusts Levi, because he does this, with Harriet and people like her. Every second spent here is a second that Levi will judge him for. Every inch closer to Harriet and her like, is an inch away from Levi. He makes himself more and more repulsive to him with every attempt at furthering his mission.

“Ah, Erwin - you’re, god, I wish you weren’t so…”

He presses his nose against her shoulder, huffs into her skin, squeezes her hips harder. He just needs to make her come and then he can leave, get back to his compound, his room, his bed. He tilts his hips up, feels her yelp, her fist in his hair, tugging on the roots hard. He walks the tightrope of staying aroused but not getting too caught up in it. He teeters on the edge of a realisation. He kisses her neck. She whispers more meaningless words to him. 

He reaches between them to rub her clit. That makes her shout. She is shouting at him, but it is encouragement. He touches it with the pad of his thumb, hips snapping, mind awash with memories of dark hair, apple blossom, a clean fireplace, kind words, cold eyes, too many pillows, not enough time. 

“Erwin,” she says as she comes. If he couldn’t tell from her body, he’d be able to tell she was finished by her voice. It’s a drawn-out, blissful sound, all breath and no force. The feeling of her clenching around him is almost too much. He’s close, but he still has his sanity. He pulls out once she’s finished with the aftershocks and drags in a lungful of air to steady himself. 

“Ah, Erwin….my captain…” She pants against her pillows, one hand thrown over her brow. The low light glints off the sweat on her chest. 

She lifts herself up and looks at him, his hands still on her hips, cock still hard and flushed. She reaches out and wraps her hand around it. 

The pressure is enough to remind him of how close to the edge he is. As she squeezes, the thoughts rise unbidden, back into his mind. Marie is gone, and now it is Levi that taunts him. The fantasy is not just ridiculous, it is out-of-bounds. He won’t think of his subordinate. He knocks her hand away with a gasp, and only after realises what he has done. 

Her hand still outstretched, she freezes in shock, breasts still heaving. He stares back at her. This evening has not gone according to his usual routine. He has allowed himself to be led astray by his distaste for the company at dinner, the preoccupation of his mind afterwards, and now he has denied her a touch. Now, she sees his disgust. It reflects back to him through her dark eyes. 

He thinks she will be angry with him, at least disappointed, but no. Her brow creases, her lips drop, her eyes fill. She is heartbroken. 

Her shoulders droop, like the felling of a Titan, and she is defeated. 

“I am such a fool.” She says bitterly, closing her legs, pushing her curls off her face. She rubs at her forehead, where her wrinkles are growing in like autumn crops. Erwin feels ashamed. 

He sits back, away from her. She climbs off the bed and slips on her robe. He is a proud man, but he will allow her this. He will allow his client one final request. He sits on the side of the bed, feet on the floor, and waits for her verdict. 

“This is the end, then, captain.” She says. It isn’t a question, but it doesn’t seem like a statement either. She crosses her arms, looks mournfully into the fire. 

“You should leave. I expect we won’t be seeing each other again.” The earlier aggression, the possessiveness, has leaked from her, leaving her a tired, vulnerable shell. 

He nods, and begins to dress himself with as much dignity as he can. Her spit dries cold on his collarbones. 

It’s not awkward, just sad and unexpectedly macabre, like dressing a corpse for a funeral. She sees him to the door and looks at him like it hurts her, but also like she cannot look away. 

“I am sorry for what I have asked of you, Erwin.” She says, and it is a tone of honesty and deference that he has never heard from her before. Then she adds, “I am very much in love with you,” which clears up any doubts he had. 

He nods, because there is nothing else to say and they both know it. He kisses her cheek and lets it linger; after all, he is saying goodbye to a friend. Perhaps, he is saying goodbye to a whole period of his life, a whole period of ignorance and diligence, of progress and motivation. He welcomes in this new era of guilt and frustration with the warm breeze that creeps through the open door, as he slips away into the night. 

000

Levi spends so much time these days peering at Erwin from the corner of his eye that he notices his absence pretty quickly that evening. 

There’s a breeze tonight. The heat isn’t as stifling. He feels less like he’s trapped underground, shut in a furnace, and breathes in the dark air like it’s water. The tops of the trees move in the distance. A pair of owls hoot at each other, calling each other home. 

The sound of approaching hooves. And footfalls. The slow creak of the gate. Movement getting closer. He crouches on his haunches, peering down as the figure approaches the stable. 

Erwin stops, lifts his head, almost-smiles at Levi. 

“Must we always meet this way to talk, Levi?”

“Depends. How long are you planning to ditch us every time the sun sets?”

It’s an exaggeration. Erwin feeds his horse an apple, pats her neck. 

“Until we are free.” He says, looking at the horse. It’s a ridiculous level of profound: not uncommon for Captain Smith, but uncommon for Erwin, like this, tired and with moonlight in his hair. 

Do we have to go over this again? I thought you’d changed. That’s what he wants to say. He doesn’t. He stays silent and watches Erwin approach. He has to tilt his head up to address Levi, at this angle. 

“What are you doing awake?”

“Same as ever. Same as you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s always the same shit with us. We’re awake when neither of us should be, but we don’t want to talk about it, so let’s not bother.”

Erwin huffs out a quiet laugh. Levi feels a swell of triumph. 

“Very well.” 

He leads his horse inside. Levi waits for him to return. He can hear him taking her tack off, moving around on the straw, stroking her nose, refilling her water. He imagines him smiling, sighing, dropping his guard. He hears his steps drawing closer like they are vibrating up his spine, like they are his own. 

“Is there something the matter, Levi?”

“You seem weird tonight.”

“Weird? How so?”

“I don’t know…” Tired, careless, loose, untethered, “Sad.” He settles on. 

Erwin smiles, and it is sad. 

“It is nothing, Levi. Sorry to worry you. Please, go to bed. I’m heading there myself. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He’s closing up, closing off, the shutters snapping over his eyes, the leader leeching into his stance. Levi is losing him before his very eyes. 

Levi moves silently, purposefully, pushing off his heels and dropping to the gutter, hanging there, letting go, landing gracefully. Erwin watches him move, watches him approach. He is carrying his suit jacket. The light breeze stirs his hair. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I assure you - “

“You’re such a fucking saint, suffering in silence. Such a strong guy, carrying everything himself.”

Erwin knows he is being sarcastic, but says “thank you” anyway. 

“What have you done?”

“What was necessary.”

“What did it cost you?”

“Nothing.”

Erwin smells of perfume. It’s a sweet, fruity fragrance. Something like peach. It makes Levi sick. 

Nothing. Everything costs something, that’s what some random guy said to the kids behind the brewery. That was the knowledge he gave them. It isn’t what it costs, but instead if it is worth the cost, he supposes. He isn’t naive enough to think the people Erwin spends his nights with will just give him what he needs, like Levi will with those children. 

Erwin looks at him with fresh eyes, somehow still old, somehow still tired, but filmed with something new and revelatory. He looks at him with a distant smile, with ironic contemplation. Levi doesn’t think he’s seeing him, rather he’s lost in his own thoughts. 

“Where have you been?”

“I went to dinner with an old friend.”

The way he says 'old friend’ is transparent enough that Levi doesn’t need to seek clarification.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Erwin sighs, smiles, looks a little drunk. No, maybe not drunk. When Erwin gets drunk, he is merry, carefree, social. He looks to be somewhere else, like he isn’t convinced that Levi is real, that he isn’t dreaming this whole encounter.

“No.” He says simply. “But it is over now.”

Levi prickles with discomfort. “For the time being, that is.”

“No. Forever. She is done with.” It is melancholy, but assured. Erwin has the weirdest ways of dealing with things. He seems to smile and sigh when Levi would scream. He looks sad and disappointed and faintly amused when things happen to him that would make others infuriated. He seems to effortlessly control his own emotions in times like these. It’s like he’s watching it happen to somebody else, Levi thinks.

“Uh, good. That’s good, yeah?”

“Necessary. I think it was necessary.”

“Well the expedition is already paid for, so you don’t need to lose sleep over that. Now we’ve just got to survive the damn thing.”

“Yes.” Erwin says quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the atmosphere, like he’d rather not let other people know that they’re outside the stables together in the middle of the night.

He starts to follow Levi towards the barracks. He’s so lost in thought it’s like Levi can hear the gears turning in his head. He feels his gaze prickling his back through his shirt.

“You seem really out of it. If there’s something wrong, you should…tell me.” He aims for worried rather than accusatory. He thinks a lot of his concern comes across as distaste, because he used to want it to.

Erwin stops walking, tilts his head to consider Levi, still with that small, sad smile. 

“Do you resent me?”

For what? Levi doesn’t ask.

For trapping you on a path that will most likely end in your painful death, Erwin doesn’t answer. 

“No.” Levi says. 

What would he be doing otherwise? Wasting away Below? Desperately trying to grow old only to have his throat slit when his reflexes inevitably fail? Surviving for the sake of it? Longing for the sun?

“I think sometimes that you should.” Says Erwin. 

“Yeah, well tough shit. No regrets, remember?” 

Erwin nods. Something settles in his eyes. Levi hopes he isn’t having doubts. Erwin must never have doubts. 

“Hey. It’s done with, yeah?” He reiterates, trying to draw him back to the present. 

Erwin blinks, opens his mouth, sighs a little. 

“Yes. It is done with.”

This version of Erwin is his privilege, he realises. Through warped glass, he sees him blurred round the edges, the perfect lines of him made organic and fallible. Levi's irritation recedes, leaving behind only fondness, respect, a strange flavour of longing that he can’t get off his tongue. 

“Come inside, then.” 

The heatwave will break, and the rain will come. Sooner rather than later. And then they will leave, and try to make it back. 

Erwin follows him inside obediently. Levi can feel his presence behind him, looking at him, like the shiver over the back of his neck when someone is trying to sneak up on him. Instinct. 

Passing the mess hall, Erwin stops. 

“I need a drink.” He says, wetting his lips. 

“I can make tea.” Levi grunts. Erwin is unusually quiet this evening. It’s not-quite-awkward, not-quite-peaceful. Levi heads into the kitchen to boil some water. 

His favourite tea is in his room, packed away under his bunk. He would share with Erwin, he decides, even though his stock is running low. But he doesn’t want to go all the way there, so he makes do with the box they have here. 

He takes the pot and two cups through to the mess, the tea under his arm. Erwin sits at the end of one table, staring at his hand, at the tips of his fingers, trying to read something in the creases of the joints. Levi sits next to him on the bench, a meter or so between them, and pours him a cup of hot water. He nudges the box and a spoon towards him. 

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Ask you what?” Erwin drops two spoonfuls of leaves into his water and stirs it carefully, like he doesn’t want the metal to clink against the ceramic, still trying to preserve the lull of evening around them. Levi would prefer a strainer, but that’s in his room too. He takes the tea from Erwin. 

“If I resent you.”

Erwin looks down into the whirlpool he’s made. He is silent for a long moment, and then speaks softly and slowly. 

“My old friend, the one I saw tonight, the one I am done with…I am done with her because…she has realised how I use her. She supposedly always knew, but tonight she accepted it. I just…wondered if you had realised yet how I use you.”

Self-pity doesn’t look good on you, Levi thinks, before realising it isn’t self-pity, it’s guilt. That’s even harder to swallow. He stirs his own tea.

“I’ve always known.” He says, because it is true and it is an easy truth to speak. Erwin wasn’t underhand. He forced Levi to join the Scouts, and then to fight for him instead of killing him. He spoke his magic words, full of sky and sacrifice, showing Levi a sudden, tangible future to fill the blurriness before him. Levi isn’t an idealist like Erwin. He knew from the start that he was doing Erwin’s bidding, fighting his battles. 

“Why do you stay, then? You are not a tool. I know you do not think of yourself as one, either.”

“Because we have an agreement, Erwin.” He says, taking a sip of his tea. It is hot. It scalds the roof of his mouth. He swallows it down. 

“An agreement?”

“Yeah.”

“That I’d tell you to die and you’d do it.”

“Sure.”

“For a goal we may never reach.”

“Yes.”

Erwin lifts his head, contemplates Levi, eyebrows drawn together.

“What have I ever given you?”

You have given me the sky, you great idiot. And I don’t know how to even begin to thank you for that, how to repay you.

“Something to do. That’s enough.”

“I don’t deserve your loyalty.”

“Well you’ve got it, so stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

He has never heard Erwin talk like this. Erwin does not doubt his goals or question his actions, he does what is necessary. He gets his results, his answers, his future, by any means. Levi doesn’t want to have to be strong for him now. 

Erwin huffs out a laugh, sips his tea, not carefully like Levi, more like it’s water, with no finesse or delicacy. 

“Thank you. I’ll try to use it well, try to use you well.”

Levi nods stoically. “I’ll try and be of use.”

There. He’s admitted it. He’s not in it for himself. He’s better than that now, bigger. He'll try to do something good with his life. He’ll follow Erwin like he promised himself he would. He trusts him. He believes in him. He doesn’t resent him. He would tell him this, but Levi isn’t good with words, even less so with important ones. So he sits quietly with him, drinking tea, hoping that it gets the message across. 

Erwin laughs to himself, and Levi bristles at a joke likely at his expense. 

“What?”

“You are kind, Levi. And you have such a funny way of showing it.”

Laughing because I am funny, not mockable. That is what he said last time. 

Levi rolls his eyes. “You’ve always got to say these things. Just because I didn’t kill you when I had the chance doesn’t mean I won’t.” 

Erwin still looks like he’s trying to puzzle Levi out. Levi wishes he wouldn’t. He itches with the exposure. How can he explain? That Erwin doesn’t owe him anything, doesn’t need to do anything except move, and Levi will follow. How does he use his pathetic cache of words to describe the chord in his core that lashes him to Erwin? And could he stand the misery, the embarrassment, the hopelessness of Erwin not understanding at all? Wherever Erwin goes, he goes. Whatever Erwin does, Levi will stand behind him. If Erwin dies, what will be left for Levi? That’s what it feels like, and it’s terrifying. And he barely knows the guy, has only just stopped actively disliking him. It is infuriating. Levi is so tired. 

“Perhaps you will kill me yet.” Erwin says wistfully, meaning something else, more of his word play. Levi rolls his eyes, can’t quite muster genuine ire. Erwin raises his cup to drink again. Levi puts his hand over the rim, pushes it back down to the table. 

He slides along the bench until he’s close, following his instinct, the tug of his impatience. These double-meanings and diversions are frustrating. He prefers action. Erwin’s eyes widen, only a little, but Levi takes it as a victory for catching him off guard once more. He nudges his chin down and squints at his upper lip. There is a tiny white scar, almost invisible, just under his nose, from where he nicked himself shaving. It must have been knocked while it was healing to scar like that, perhaps he did it himself, perhaps it was kissed away. Levi thinks about the woman Erwin was with tonight, her blank face and unplaceable voice, her brown-blonde-black hair and shapeless eyes. She might have kissed him, thought him hers, knocked the scab off without even noticing it was there. Only Levi would know it was there. Levi has, in the past, touched his thumb to it. 

Erwin watches him, breathing deeply, mouth closed. Levi touches the scar now, like he’s curious, brushing over the patch of skin. His stubble is coming through. Levi feels calmer for being in his space, and also much more on edge. It’s masochistic, like probing an infected wound. 

They’re in the mess. Anyone could walk in and find them like this. They wouldn’t be able to explain it away. 

Levi was on the back foot last time, unprepared because he’s inexperienced. So he’ll adapt. He’ll learn. He’ll take matters into his own hands. 

He gets a breath away from Erwin’s lips, brows furrowed, heart thudding in his throat, before Erwin says “no”. It flutters across Levi’s mouth. Their noses brush as Erwin tilts his face down. 

“I can’t, Levi. There’s too much at stake.”

It sounds like an excuse: an attempt not to hurt Levi’s feelings, perhaps. It has quite the opposite effect. 

“You started it.” He says, with a hard edge, still close enough to count Erwin’s eyelashes. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to do better.”

The sting of rejection is softened slightly by Erwin’s expression. Usually so in control, he looks tormented now, up this close. He leaks longing from his eyes. His restraint reigns supreme. 

“What do you mean?” Levi whispers, can’t quite bring himself to douse the moment in the cold water of distance. 

“I mean this cannot begin, because I don’t know where it will end. I have to remain focused on the mission. I…cannot play favorites.”

Is Levi his favorite, then? He supposes Erwin spends more time alone with Levi than with the others in his squad. He picked Levi himself, staked his reputation on him, wrangled him a pardon. And he is sometimes soft with Levi, and sometimes very hard. 

He chased Levi through a forest to make him talk to him. He risked his position to keep Levi in the Corps despite his constant insubordination. He showed Levi his father’s books and kissed him in candlelight, showed him tenderness like it was natural. And Levi has repaid him with sullen coldness and a reluctance to communicate. Once again, he feels stupid. 

“That’s not what this is.” Says Levi, scrambling for his shield, putting up the indifference again, because Erwin cannot know he fears, cannot know he feels. As if he doesn’t already. 

“Perhaps not for you.” Erwin says sadly. He moves out of Levi’s space, looks at him properly, blue eyes flitting across Levi’s face. “You are special to me. This is foolish.”

Levi can feel himself scowling, but he’s actually just lost for words. He feels brimming with untapped energy. He’s full. He’ll spill. Erwin blinks solemnly at him, and stands from his chair. 

“We should probably…discuss this further…” He says reluctantly, rubbing his brow. 

“What’s there to discuss?” Says Levi. 

Erwin gives him another look. “Alright. Thank you for the tea, Levi.” He takes his cup to the kitchen to wash it. Diligent. Considerate. So bloody perfect. His unshakeable captain, too responsible to let go, to give in. Levi used to respect that about him, but now he can’t help resenting it. All his preconceptions come back round to bite him on the ass eventually. 

Spoiled brat who throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants. Act like a damn grown up, Levi. 

Erwin leaves. Levi’s glad of the time alone, if he’s honest. He scrubs his teacup until his fingers are numb.

‘There’s too much at stake’ - what did he mean by that? Is he worried Levi’s gonna lose his mind if he touches him? Does he think it will be a distraction? Will his chances of becoming commander be scuppered if, for a second, he thinks with his dick and not his head?

Erwin’s a natural leader. He’s flawlessly professional, ruthless when necessary and always has his eyes on the horizon, gaze fixed on something beyond the Walls and the clouds and the titans. Of course he wouldn’t just... fall into bed with his subordinate. Of course his fucking duty would stop him in his tracks. Levi doesn’t know why he thought it would be so easy, so meaningless, when on his end so far it’s felt like anything but.

The thought of rich women in the Capital looking at Erwin, sweet-talking him with promises of essential supplies, putting their filthy hands on him, makes Levi’s stomach boil. The thought of Erwin, so distant and unknowable to him, going pliant and willing and vulnerable for the nobles who subjugated Levi’s people for decades makes him sick. It’s disgust at Erwin’s willing participation, as it was before, and disgust at the people who would buy him for a night just to give the Scouts a fighting chance, but it’s more than that, now. It’s disgust at himself, perhaps, for being jealous. After his poor mother, his sick, sweet mother, was eaten alive by her profession, Levi finds himself envying the customer. They get Erwin as he never will. And there is nothing he could do to change that, even if he wanted to. 

He eventually takes himself to bed, trying to tune out the sound of his bunkmates' snoring. Just as he is drifting off, only hours from sunrise, he hears it landing lightly outside his window: rainfall, at last.

Chapter Text

“You have the rest of the day to prepare. Visit your families, go to town, do what you must do. Tomorrow we make our way to Shiganshina. And then, the Fifty-Third Scouting Expedition begins. Make sure you are ready. It will be a long two weeks beyond the Walls, and that’s if everything goes according to plan.” Shadis sounds grave, but thankfully unshaking, addressing the Scouts over breakfast the following morning.

Visit your families. Enjoy the fair. Do what you must do.

‘Get your affairs in order’, is what he means.

The atmosphere is incendiary. Several recruits blanch a bone-white. Squadmates exchange nervous glances. There are some soldiers staring straight ahead, unblinking, leaving their minds for a minute so as not to make a fool of themselves. Levi sits opposite Hange; the only person in the mess to look actively excited at the prospect. Moblit, sitting beside them, fights down the nervous wobble of his lips. 

The squad leaders look a little on edge, too, although they are doing better at hiding it. Most of them likely already knew this announcement was coming, maybe even knew the exact wording ahead of time. Gershin swallows hard, but looks stern. At the far end of the table, Erwin’s steely gaze brims with something like anticipation. 

Levi feels apprehension of his own, but knows it won’t break the surface. It’s not fear for himself, more a grim expectation of more loss, more guilt, more lives he’s going to watch end. It can’t be helped. He’s not a deserter, even if he does think the goal of establishing a permanent outpost is ambitious at best and doomed at worst.

He’ll go visit the kids, take them some more clothes, some meat he’s stashed from dinner because they splurge before a big expedition and he doesn’t like the feel of it between his teeth. If he doesn’t come back, he hopes they’re grown enough to make it on their own. 

Despite having the day off, most squads convene to train for a bit in a last-ditch attempt to cram as much preparation into their bodies as possible. It feels a little desperate to Levi, as he swings round the buildings in a formation he could navigate in his sleep. The rest of the squad is equally well-practised, even Hallie seems confident in her movements, but there is still that nervous energy, that jumpy tension stringing between them, that makes everyone seem more on edge than ever.

“Keep to your lines, and listen for my orders. If we deploy the diversion and attack formations correctly, there should be no need for panic, or catastrophe, once we get out there. Go and rest, spend the evening with friends. You have done well. I will see you tomorrow morning.” Erwin says as they stand and sweat in the rain below the looming wooden figure of a titan target. Keiji is paying attention for once. Lauda looks like she already has her evening planned, glancing over at the barracks, keen to be dismissed. Levi goes to leave with the group, but the way Erwin is looking at him makes him think he wants to speak with him alone.

“What will you do tonight, Levi?”

“I don’t know. I gotta run an errand, but I’ll probably just...clean.”

Erwin laughs. With him not at him. “Alright. Whatever keeps you calm.”

“Tch. I’m always calm.”

Erwin looks better than he has in months. The bags under his eyes have receded, his hair is freshly washed, and there is a sort of glow under his skin; eating, exercising and resting properly, Levi guesses. Last night was the first time in a while he left the compound for Sina, and the lessened weight of his other duties has made him strong and bright again. He looks different than he did last night, even. It’s absurd that the rain, the prospect of a dangerous mission, could imbue him with such vitality.

“What about you?” He asks without knowing why. 

“I will have my pre-expedition meeting with Shadis and the other captains. Then I will make some personal preparations. The men usually have a bonfire before big missions like this; out in the courtyard, if the weather is good. They burn things, drink and talk, sometimes cook food over the flames. It’s ritualistic, ceremonial, even. You should join us, if the cleaning can spare you.”

The last time Levi received an invitation to socialise, he wanted to laugh. Go to the tavern with Erwin and his friends? He thought it was supposed to be his day off. No one has asked him anywhere else since, and it figures. If this is to be his last free night alive, his last chance to soak in these people he used to hate, then perhaps he should take it. He likes being alone, but cleaning his room until dawn while everyone else bonds over a bonfire sounds less appealing than it normally would. 

Huh. Must be all Erwin’s bullshit about camaraderie finally getting through to me.

“Maybe.” He says, and leaves his captain smiling. 

He cleans his gear with care. It’s spotless already - it always is - but he wants to make sure it’s oiled properly. The stuff they used as grease Underground was cheap, usually stolen, often not meant for ODM mechanics. This stuff is smooth and slippery and smells cleaner somehow. His hands don’t shake. His gaze is steady.

He considers that it is the first mission that has felt important since his first. The smaller ones in between brought him no fear or apprehension, just frustration at having to follow orders. Now, as before, he feels invested, only the first time it was because his friends were with him, and he had a mission all of his own to accomplish.

This time, as opposed to trying to kill Erwin, he will do whatever he can to keep him alive.

Levi doesn’t believe in the bullshit about an afterlife, but sometimes he daydreams that there is one, and Farlan and Isabel have not dissolved into nothing, but instead watch him. They would be disappointed, he thinks, to see him turn so quickly, so completely. They swore to kill a man, it was their whole reason for risking the climb, the expedition. Now, he protects that man, follows him, obeys his orders and tends to his wounds. He listens to his woes and his wisdom, worries about his dignity, takes on his trust and offers his own in exchange. He thinks about his mouth and his hands, thinks about them on his own skin, wants his attention and his touch. He’s...taken with him. He’s grown weak. He’s grown dependent. Erwin all but killed Levi’s family and in return Levi has lashed himself to him with a chord so tight and sturdy he sometimes worries he will never be free from it.

He has a headache. A storm must be brewing. He thinks it’s stupid to start an expedition in the rain after what happened before, but Erwin seems to know better. The storm will occur on the safest leg of the mission - when they are passing through towns with plenty of grapple points and the formation is closer together - and then it will have passed by the most difficult stretch, timing the mild weather perfectly. Levi doesn’t understand how they know what the sky will do. Perhaps if you grow up Above you develop a sense for these things. 

The pressure builds against his temples and puts him in a bad mood. He decides to find some peace and quiet before heading into town with the bundle of belongings he’s gathered for the kids. While he lies in his bunk, staring up at the bed above, he wonders how much more empty the room will be on their return. He has a sudden image, almost comical, of him eating alone in the mess, having all of the hot water to himself in the bathhouse, sitting in the shade of the silent training forest; the only Scout left standing.

000

Erwin makes time after lunch to go and talk to Hange. He’s been in meetings all morning, signing off paperwork and preparing for the worst since dawn, and so in the lull of early afternoon, he seeks them out in their dungeon-turned-lab. They are up to their elbow in what looks to be a deer.

“I hope you didn’t kill that yourself, the men will be furious if you’ve deprived them of good meat.”

“Of course not! Such a precious creature - I found it in the forest with a hole ripped in its stomach. Wolves, I think, or else someone’s dog went rogue. Still, pity to waste it!”

The smell is almost unbearable. Erwin straightens his posture and endures.

“I’ve come about our discussion last month.”

Hange stops what they’re doing to peer at him. They then slowly extract their arm from the deer carcass. It makes a crude squelching sound.

“Have you made up your mind, then?”

“Yes. I think it would be beneficial to learn more about the enemy. The titan-enemy, that is. If your theory is correct then nighttime expeditions may incur fewer casualties.”

Hange wipes their arm off on a rag and looks at him curiously. 

“Have you spoken to Shadis?”

“No.” 

“So this is a secret undercover operation?” They sound excited. Erwin moves to do pre-emptive damage control.

“No. It is not an operation. I am simply giving you permission to use the equipment we sourced for you, and Berner, if he is willing, to test out your theories once we have established the outpost. It is nothing nefarious, and you are to exercise restraint, caution and discretion.”

“‘Discretion’ - so Shadis still knows nothing?”

“I think it is better if he does not. You have permission to carry out experiments, and this is just an extension of that permission.”

Shadis would never allow Hange to get as close to titans as they would like, but their hypotheses are compelling, and Erwin thinks getting more intel on the enemy is never a bad thing. Shadis’ main focus as Commander is kill counts and land reclaimed, rather than truths uncovered, and he wouldn’t risk losing a potentially brilliant squad leader in the name of science. Erwin knows Hange, has known them for years. They can be careless when they’re lost in their head, but there is a reason they have survived this far: they’re a good soldier and they’re smarter than most people Erwin has ever met. He trusts them enough to take the risk. 

“Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?” They say, pushing their goggles up into their hair. There is a smudge of either bile or grease on their cheekbone.

“Certainly. Do what you need to do, but please keep yourself in one piece.”

If Shadis finds out he has been giving out covert orders, he will be furious. Shadis is a proud man, an insecure one, and such a blatant questioning of his ultimate authority would be poorly received. It might even ruin Erwin’s chances of becoming his successor. 

Hange will have arrived at this conclusion. They nod at him.

“Thanks, Erwin. There’s lots I’d like to try and observe in their behaviour, and this is the perfect opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

He smiles. “If you survive, you will be made a squad leader upon our return.”

They beam at him, throwing themselves down into a rickety wooden chair behind their unbelievably cluttered desk, knocking over an empty beaker in the process.

“Really? Sounds fun. So I get some young un’s to boss about?”

“You will be responsible for a squad of recruits, yes. It also means a lot more meetings, longer working nights and more public appearances. And Shadis has already commented on your personal appearance before.”

Hange blows a flyaway lock of hair out of their face and smirks up at him. “That guy is too uptight. I’m no oil painting, he should accept that. Can’t he leave the charming of the nobles to you? You actually do look like an oil painting.”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks back at them. “I’m flattered.”

Hange snorts. “One of those prissy, awkward paintings they put up in banquet halls in the Capital. You know, where the men wear loads of jewellery and look like they’ve got a stick up their ass for all eternity?”

Erwin laughs lightly at their teasing. “Ah, yes I’m familiar with such works. I suppose you have a point.”

Hange’s smirk goes a little sad. They are fond of each other, he thinks with grim finality. Regardless of what it would do to his career, his primary concern for Hange’s safety in their experiments is a personal one.

They are also just a little too knowing. They’re sharp. They know exactly how successful he has been at raising funds for this expedition, and have probably guessed at his method. It makes Erwin feel ashamed. 

“Have you thought more about...my proposal?” Hange says cautiously, chin tilted down against their chest.

“It cannot be done. Shadis will never sign it off, and there is no way of doing it under his nose.”

Hange slumps further down in their chair. “Fine. I’ll wait. When you’re commander, you’ll let me do it, right?”

“We shall have to survive that far.”

“Alright, I get it. No pets.”

“Good. I’m only allowing you extra rein because I trust you to be responsible, and I believe in your work. Please don’t overdo it.”

They hop back onto their feet with surprising dexterity. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Erwin!”

He nods. “Bring few enough supplies to store them in Supply Cart W4. Aside from Moblit and myself, nobody else should know.”

“Understood.” They say, mock-saluting.

“I’ll see you tonight, Hange.” 

“Yes! Nothing to start off a long excursion quite like a hangover! How are you feeling, Erwin?”

“Excuse me?” He stops halfway to the door.

“How are you feeling? You’ve been working harder than ever, I just thought maybe you need something to help you sleep.”

They look sincere, leaning against the table, legs crossed at the ankle, studying Erwin. He pushes his shoulders back a little.

“I appreciate your concern. I’m quite well, I assure you.”

“Because, if you were feeling burnt out, I could help, you know?” They move their hands rather erratically as they talk, swatting invisible flies, scribbling equations in the air. Hange seems perpetually in motion. In truth, Erwin would love to borrow some of their energy.

“Even if it was just...you know...talking. We used to talk a lot, you and I. Before things got too real.”

Erwin smiles, sighs through his nose, looks around their lab as if to assess visually how they got here, how they are still standing, how far they have to go.

“My duties have made me impersonal.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that - I mean you’re always so busy I miss getting to spend time together, that’s all. It’s silly, and selfish, but no one functions well alone, you know? Even you need something to rely on.”

They are trying to reach out to him. Has he really lost his way? He thought he was handling things well, thought his demeanour was impenetrable, but Hange, with their quick eyes and quicker mind sees distress in him. And of course they would; they’ve been friends for years. 

Am I distressed? Do I need someone to talk to?

He’s concerned that if he starts talking he won’t be able to stop, and the tower he’s been building painfully and carefully, brick by brick, will be shaken loose and come crashing down around him. The mission is all that matters. He can untangle the mess of his mind if he makes it back alive.

“Thank you.” He says sincerely. “I regret my absence. It will be nice, at least for tonight, to have the company of you and the others.”

Hange watches him for a long moment, the mirth in their gaze more hopeless than celebratory, like you might look at a particularly troublesome child. They amble over to him and drop a hand on his shoulder. He is ashamed that the physical contact, given easily and with nothing but affection behind it, shocks him. He keeps it from his face.

“Tonight, then. And after: the Big Day.” 

He looks at them softly, to convey his gratitude. They lift their hand away, head for the door.

“I’m going to get something to eat, want to come?”

He has already eaten, but nods and follows them anyway.

“Thanks for bringing me this good news, Erwin! I can hardly wait!”

000

The day passes in a blur, rife with manic energy, like a horse breaking into a gallop on the final stretch. After watching Hange eat their lunch (messily, and taking frequent breaks to talk at him) he has another meeting with Shadis and a few other squad leaders. He notices them taking it in turns to draw their eyes over each other: counting, commemorating, considering who will vanish from the table.

There is still work to be done. He writes letters of personal gratitude to send to the nobles backing the missions. He checks and re-checks the formation plans, switches round a veteran-cadet pairing, then decides against the change and scribbles it out again. He lifts the floorboard and slides his father’s books further into the space underneath, tucking them against the foundation of the wall, in the hope that if he doesn’t return, when they are eventually found, they can no longer harm anyone connected to him. He tilts the portrait of his family away from the sun. With no one to close the curtains while the room is empty, he doesn’t want it to bleach.

He cannot sit still; standing in the middle of writing a letter to pace as he runs through the supply checklist once more, straightening his collar, his cuffs, sitting down again, distracted by every noise from outside. It is normal to be on edge before an expedition, but this feels different. This feels like, more than ever, he has something to prove, and the success of the mission will reflect on him. 

In the end, he knows he has planned everything perfectly. You cannot prepare for the unexpected, and it is foolish of him to waste his time trying. It is the soldiers, ultimately, who will decide the success of this mission, and if fate is generous enough to deal a fair hand when they leave Wall Maria. He should be focused on his troops, not his paperwork.

So he stands, puts on his jacket, and glances outside at the rain; sheeting down through the sunlight, fresh and cleansing, putting a damper on the heat. He will make the rounds and then call it a day.

Yenna and Samuel are checking their packing. Erwin pays special, subtle attention to the latter. He looks nervous, but is talkative and energetic. Yenna peers at him too. Erwin trusts her to keep an eye on him tonight. 

He fails to find Lauda, and so assumes she is in the showers. Keiji is relaxed, playing cards with members of Sells’ new squad. They wave at Erwin and he feels reassured by their ease. Hallie is with Hange, listening to them talk about the possible correlation of titan height class and intelligence. Moblit is moving equipment from Hange’s lab into a crate outside. 

“Good afternoon, captain.” Hallie says brightly. She seems excited. The stone in Erwin’s stomach turns over. She’s young but she’s fast, and she listens to orders. Maybe she can make it back.

Nanaba comes to his room as he’s changing into more casual evening clothes. It’s under the guise of checking her new squad’s relay line again, but then she casually mentions that she’ll be taking her horse to make a call in the evening. Erwin imagines she wants to visit her lover before they leave. She doesn’t need to ask permission, but he suspects she is being cautious: telling him where she is going so he is not concerned when she disappears. He knows how brave she is, how steadfast. He would have arrived at the correct answer on his own. He doesn’t say so. Instead, they talk about her home and her people. Her father died the previous year, he remembers, but she didn’t request leave to go to his funeral.

Then it’s just Levi. Erwin goes to look for him in his room but encounters him in the corridor by mistake. He is cleaning out a rarely-used supply closet. There is dust on his apron. This, of course, is not his duty, but cleaning relaxes him, and he is so focused that Erwin decides to leave him to it.

“Do me a favour. Toss that outside.” Levi says, his back to Erwin, having somehow sensed it was him approaching.

Erwin guesses he is referring to the bucket of murky water outside the door. He says nothing; picks the bucket up, carries it downstairs, pours it into a storm drain and returns it. When he gets back, Levi is leaning against the wall, the handkerchief pulled away from his mouth, wiping his hands clean.

“Better?” Erwin asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Levi says, still not really looking at him. Erwin smiles.

“I wasn’t going to disturb you.”

“Well, you disturbed me by staring. At least you made yourself useful. Did you need something?”

“I thought I’d check how you were doing. I’ve spoken to the rest of the squad. The day before an expedition can be trying.”

Levi snorts, beginning to remove his many layers of protective clothing, folding his apron up neatly. “Of course.”

“Well? How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, captain, thank you for asking.” He says sarcastically, rolling down his sleeves. “Filled with excitement at the prospect of more bloodshed.”

“It’s ok to be anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.” Levi says, slouched against the wall, brows lowered apathetically over calm eyes, the picture of ambivalence. Only his cleaning, his tense shoulders, his thrice-washed hands and his too-pink fingernails betray him.

He just stands there, all loose posture and bad attitude, looking at Erwin evenly. He’s still such a novelty. He will return. Of all of them, if there is any chance for anyone, it is him. The thought brings Erwin a sense of morbid calm.

“If there’s anything you need, just ask. I’ll see you tonight.” Erwin says, scrambling for distance once again, nodding at Levi, going to leave.

“We could die on this mission, you know?” Levi says like he’s bored, examining his nails. Erwin stops, turns back to him.

“It is a possibility that I have come to terms with, yes.”

“I’d say more a probability than a possibility.”

“For some, perhaps. Not for you. Not if you are careful.”

Levi looks at him more, long and hard, trying to settle something in his own mind, perhaps. Erwin stands still, arms folded behind him, and lets himself be looked at. Levi’s eyes narrow.

“And we do this again and again until we’re eaten, yes?”

“Or until we are free, correct.”

“And you don’t regret? You prepare for the worst over and over and just...accept that there are some things you’ll never get to do.”

“That’s practically in the job description, Levi. Sacrifice means sacrificing everything in the Scouts. The chance at a normal life, at luxury, at peace, at safety and longevity: this is what we give up when we give our heart.”

“Tch.” Levi rolls his eyes. Erwin has noticed that Levi is not fond of his turns of phrase when they lean towards rhetoric. 

“Are you having doubts, Levi?” One moment of hesitation from Levi could spell disaster for the whole Regiment, and all of Erwin’s plans for them.

“No.”

“Regrets, then?”

“I was talking about you, not me. Some people say what they mean.” 

Erwin frowns. “I do not have any regrets.”

“None at all?”

“No.”

“Not even about all those hours you have spent in the company of others? People you hate who ate up your time for a victory you won’t even get to see?”

As he speaks, his voice drops. At first Erwin thinks it’s with distaste, but then he sees Levi’s eyes flick to the side. He is concerned about being overheard in the empty corridor, concerned about spilling Erwin’s secret. 

“No. Whatever my own feelings on the matter, they provided a service and got fair payment, as per an agreement. There is nothing to regret in honesty, or in furthering a cause I believe in with what means I can.”

Levi stares again. It burns behind Erwin’s forehead. How can someone so small have such... presence?

“Payment.”

Erwin nods. He shifts his weight back, trying not to look uncomfortable.

Levi shrugs, seems satisfied, bends down to pick up the bucket and put it back into the supply closet, and says “perhaps you should pay me for my services then, since you’re so big on fairness,” off-handedly, like he’s discussing what to eat for dinner.

“Excuse me?” Erwin says, just managing not to stutter.

“I said, ” Levi emerges from the room, dusts off his hands, closes the door behind him, “Perhaps you should pay me. Then there will be nothing to regret. Just fair payment.”

This is quite a change. Only days ago, Levi was furious with him because he thought there was a chance that Erwin was bargaining for his skill. He was disgusted, insulted, Erwin had to force him to tell him what was wrong, and now he is...asking for his due?

“Is your wage not fair payment?”

“Am I worth the same as the other soldiers?”

“No.” Erwin answers honestly.

“Alright. So how is it fair? You said so yourself: I’m special. Well, give me special treatment.”

“Levi…” Erwin is incredulous. He drops his hands. “I...don’t know if you’re suggesting what I think you are, but I explained why - “

“Yeah, yeah,” Levi waves his hand around, knocking aside Erwin’s excuses, “Can’t compromise your neutrality, cannot besmirch your honor, your heart belongs to the cause and only the cause, I get it. I don’t care.”

“Well, nothing has changed.” Erwin keeps his voice stern, stops it shaking, swallows his panic.

“We might die on this mission, like you said. Possibility or probability, whatever. You want to just...leave it like this?”

No. “I must.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be unprofessional. Irresponsible. Inappropriate - “

“Because I’m in your squad? Because I’m your project? Because I’m not scared of you and you’re the only one whose orders I follow?”

“Because…”

“Because you can’t get emotional, I understand. But you seem to do a pretty good job of keeping your feelings out of it when it comes to the others. Why not me? Just...think of it as payment.” He loses his nerve on the last sentence, glances away. The tips of his ears are red.

“I thought you didn’t want me to pay you. The idea revolted you.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed.” He looks back at Erwin, his gaze full of venom, like he hates him for putting him in this position, whether Erwin meant to or not. “This is the only way, isn’t it?”

We might die, is what Levi means. 

He’s finding a loophole, bypassing Erwin’s safeguards, and preying on his weakness. Erwin is almost proud of him. 

“Pay for me. The way you do with the others. I want to know. I want to understand.” He says, as close to blunt honesty as it seems he can bring himself to be. He looks away again, grinding his teeth, arms crossed. “I don’t want to regret anything either.”

It’s bold. Erwin doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Levi doesn’t like being vulnerable, but he’s not a coward. 

“I…” He can’t think of anything to say. His brain seems to have stopped working. 

Levi raises an eyebrow, looks disappointed, and says “forget it”. He picks up his cleaning clothes. “I don’t want to make you feel like you owe me something, or that you have to do something you don’t want to. It was just...a suggestion.” He shrugs, plays it off, waits for Erwin to say something.

“You would…” Erwin starts, trying to reconnect the ideas in his head, “You would want me, like that?” And all it entails, all the shadows in the corner and baggage under the bed?

Levi squints at him like he’s simple. “Yes.” He says.

“Right.” Erwin’s brain starts working again, starts thinking, piecing together information, drawing up possibilities. A door opens at the end of the hallway, and they are disturbed.

“See you tonight, captain.” Levi says cooly, and heads for his own room, leaving the unflappable Erwin Smith standing in a corridor in something like shock.

This does not bode well. He has an anxious twisting feeling in his gut, a pressure behind his eyes, tired from fighting his instincts, of keeping his back straight. 

Like donning a helmet, he draws himself forward again, pressing the power back into his face, unshakeable once more. The recruit that shuffles towards him down the corridor gives him an apprehensive “sir”. Erwin doesn’t know his name. He must be just out of cadet academy, along with the fresh batch of recruits, thrown into their first mission within a fortnight. 

The afternoon is turning into evening. He has his final meeting with Shadis and then after dinner he will meet the men in the courtyard. He imagines that, whatever happens, he will not be sleeping as much as he should tonight. 

000

Dinner is a strange affair. Part-celebratory, part-mournful, they open the stocks and use up all of the perishable food in one big banquet. Erwin isn’t hungry, but he manages to finish his portion, unwilling to look ungrateful or shaken. Shadis is drinking hard spirits, openly for once, but instead of giving him concerned sideways looks, his squad leaders are toasting with him. Hange slips in late; unusual for them. They must have been packing supplies when no one was around to see. Erwin quickly calculates the possibility that anyone else might think it strange, might nurture suspicions, might poke their nose in, and deems it unlikely. 

Shadis gives his usual speech, dry in passion but full of threat; it will be enough to rally the troops. The more experienced soldiers drink beer and laugh amongst themselves. The new recruits look less eager to celebrate, but all valiantly maintain a brave face. Several of them look ready for a fight. Erwin hopes they make it to the courtyard before anything breaks out.

Levi sits with his squad; a sight that Erwin takes for granted, but he once would have considered a distant fancy. Yenna on one side, Margot on the other, but Levi is openly staring straight at Erwin. It isn’t quite with interest, or really with particular intensity, more like he’s lost in thought and his eyes happened to alight there. Erwin tries to ignore it.

After dinner is cleared away, Mike sidles up to Erwin and knocks their shoulders together. 

“I guess it’s up to us now: all the older vets have gone.”

“It’s an honour, I suppose, to start the fire.”

“It’s work for lackeys, but I don’t trust these kids around open flames all that much, so it’s probably for the best.” He says. He seems in good spirits. Mike projects an unspoken but potent confidence that is supported by his field record. Erwin adds him to the list of people to not worry about. The list is currently very short: him and Levi.

“I hope we aren’t using the last of the firewood. The Commander likes a fire in the evening.”

“There will be plenty: everything is so dry because of the heatwave.” 

“Always a silver lining.” Erwin feels that discomfort again, like wearing his dress shoes. This version of himself, the casual comrade, Mike’s friend since cadet camp, is difficult to conjure after so long of boxing it away. It’s gathered dust. It sits strangely on him now. 

I won’t need to be anything else, out there. I can focus on the mission, on my teammates, and titans, and nothing else. Those nobles wouldn’t even recognise me, out there…

There is a crack in the courtyard. The story is that, several decades before, the ground shook. Everyone within the Walls felt it, like the world trembled for a few moments. The lakes rippled and sloshed in their basins, houses collapsed onto families, trees were uprooted and blocked the roads, and several square miles of the Underground caved in and had to be abandoned. So much damage, from a few minutes of instability. People thought the titans had broken through, or there were titans stirring beneath their feet, deep in the bowels of the earth. For a few minutes, the giants were inside. The very ground turned against them. And then it stopped, and never happened again.

Erwin doesn’t know if he believes this story or not. People love to exaggerate disaster to make them grateful in hindsight. It is an ancient tradition of elaborating on the truth, or telling cautionary tales to children. However, there is so much about their world that they do not know. Erwin tries to conceive of it sometimes. In order for the ground to shake, it would need to be resting upon something, like a pontoon on a river. He cannot imagine that; that the grass and mud and bedrock of the land is not stable. It is almost too big a concept to fathom. And if it wasn’t…

The shake came, destroyed, and left, leaving behind a crack in the central courtyard of the building they then developed into the Headquarters of the Survey Corps. It runs diagonally across, and in the middle, splits into two cracks before they meld back into one. This central channel has long been knocked loose, and now there is a hole, a rough dent in the stone, as if the ground has opened up and bequeathed them the perfect pit for a fire. The Regiment never found the money to fix it, assigning budget instead to more essential expenses.They hold their strange ceremonial vigil here, gathered around the crack, before long missions such as this.

The rain has stopped, but clouds hang pregnant with the next downpour, blocking out most of the blue beyond. The threat lingers, waiting, a promise of a storm dangled in front of them, currently held at bay.

Mike and Erwin help carry the firewood, and light the first log, then sit on a crate each and watch the first-timers mess around with kindling and straw, skewering leftover meat on sticks, trying to roll a barrel of beer into the courtyard for easy access. The fear in the new recruits’ eyes has fizzled into a sort of frenzy. He shares a look with Mike and knows they must be responsible. The only thing worse than riding out into titan territory for the first time is doing so hungover.

They shouldn’t really be drinking in the first place. Shadis, however, understands the importance of morale, or perhaps simply doesn’t wish to seem a hypocrite. 

Mike chews on a strand of flax, tossing his dice in the air and catching them, listening to Gelgar talk from the crate beside him. Erwin isn’t in the mood for games. He watches the troops gather, a gentle trickle from each courtyard entrance, flitting like moths to the outer edges of the flames’ warmth. The heat catches in his face. He slips out of his jacket, rolls his sleeves up, takes a sip of his beer and watches a group of kids, Miles’ squad, burn their precious scraps of beef by holding them too close. 

People sip instead of swig, speak instead of shout, with a quiet appreciation for today rather than a desperate ruckus to ruin tomorrow. One by one, the veterans begin the ritual of burning - tossing their ‘tributes’ onto the flames - discarding a part of their personal life in order to face the brutal ultimatum of Outside, leaving behind something that tethers them to Walls that might hinder their service to humanity. It’s a tradition that is done more as an act of bonding to mark a notable expedition than what it must have started out as: a way to disconnect men from their own sense of self-preservation.

Erwin watches Hange approach first, holding some of their notes. They get briefly distracted by what is written upon them, before remembering their objective and tossing them onto the fire. There are a few quiet cheers and a smattering of applause. Erwin watches the pages char and curl, like insects retracting into their shells.

Following Hange is a group of soldiers, each about a year or so into their positions, who toss their tributes on together, so the fire coughs and spits, before swallowing them. Erwin catches a glimpse of a stuffed toy, letters wrapped in twine, a hipflask, a pair of spectacles, and flinches a little at the sight of a book, pages splayed and cover melting.

With the tension broken, movement flows freer. People approach and retreat in soft waves, in pairs or groups or standing contemplatively alone, and with a sense of solemn duty and placid acceptance, throw a personal item onto the fire. One boy, Petyr, Erwin thinks, throws a garment of some sort on with ill-disguised anger. A pair of recruits look reluctant to part with their tributes - a box and a handkerchief - but encourage each other enough to surrender them to the flames as well. Nanaba drapes a shirt over one edge of the fire and several members of her squad coo at the sight of it engulfed. 

People eat and drink, groups swelling and dissolving as talk comes easy and the Scouts enjoy this evening together - the last for many of them. The sun begins to set, pressing the crowd inward towards the glow of the fire and sealing them in its bubble of light. There is a new recruit, a woman in her twenties, transferred from the Garrison Regiment and with enough military experience to already be on her way to becoming a squad leader. Her name is Anja and she is gearing herself up to talk to either Erwin or Mike: he cannot tell which without looking directly at her and revealing that he has noticed her staring. When he looks over to Mike, one of his oldest friends, he spits the flax from his mouth, finishes his beer, reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a piece of parchment. Erwin doesn’t quite catch what’s on it, but it looked like a drawing of a field flower: sketchy lines and bright colours. He screws it into a ball and throws it onto the fire with perfect aim, without standing from his seat or even breaking his relaxed posture. His eyes are impassive. Erwin smiles without knowing why.

“Almost your turn.” Mike says, tossing his dice again, “Your tribute is here.” Erwin looks where he is nodding and sees Levi, hovering at the edge of the ring, the flames throwing flickering light across his impassive expression, making his scowl look deeper and his lips look smaller. Erwin scoffs.

“I’ve hardly worked this hard on him just to toss him away now. That would be inefficient.”

“And one thing you are is efficient, Erwin.” Mike concedes. “Still, we can’t have you paying too much attention to your pet project in the field.”

“He’s more than that now.” Erwin says.

“Yeah, I know.” Mike says, good-natured, watching his dice make a slow arc in front of his face before falling back into his open palm. “I know.” He says again, quietly, to himself.

Levi must have noticed Erwin, but he’s not looking at him, arms crossed stubbornly, watching the more drunk recruits with open disapproval. Most of them give him a wide berth. 

“I’ll watch his back if you go first.” Mike says. 

“Thank you.”

“And he better watch yours if I go first.”

“He will. He can’t help it. I think he resents it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m being melancholic, ignore me.”

“You are so dramatic. The pair of you.”

“We are not a pair.” Erwin says with uncharacteristic distaste. Mike rolls his eyes; a flash of white under his fringe of hair.

“One minute I was holding his face against the dirt to stop him cutting you in half and now he follows you around like a lost puppy.”

“You’d know more about that than me.” Erwin says, with a deliberately loud sniff.

Mike ignores his teasing. “It’s creepy. He’s creepy. Damn good fighter, I’ll give him that, and sure, he’s loyal, but forgive me if I ain’t singing tavern songs with him just yet.”

Erwin laughs low in his chest, grinning. “I think he’s probably glad of that.”

“He used to glare at me all the time. Little guy thinking he’s tough, forgetting the position we got him in Below. Thought he didn’t have to follow the rules, thought he was better than us all. It pissed me off; arrogance like that.”

“Whereas you, of course, are nothing but humble.” 

“That’s not the point. It’s the attitude. I don’t give a damn where he came from, but he can’t expect to be put in charge just like that, just because he can kill good. He’s gotta put in the work like the rest of us. Gotta learn to give a shit. Somehow you’ve managed to make him do that. Put him in line, somehow, you know?”

“I didn’t discipline him, I just talked to him.”

“Like that isn’t a form of punishment.” He mutters dryly. Erwin shoves him with his shoulder. 

“He’s just...difficult to understand. I cannot imagine what his childhood was like. He doesn’t know his birthday, his last name, his family or his background. He’s had to fight for everything he has. And then I strong-armed him into joining and got his friends killed, all because I was greedy. It’s a miracle he’s forgiven me at all, let alone decided to change his behaviour.”

Mike watches him, sniffs, throws his dice and peers at them when they land on the ground in front of him. 

“I don’t hate the guy.” He says, and that’s practically a love confession coming from Mike.

“Good.” Erwin says. “You two are the power behind our defence. You will need to get along.”

“If he keeps being cooperative, then I will. Might even consider that tavern song after a couple of years.”

Erwin smiles, glances at Levi, watches his hooded gaze fix on the fire, his mind clearly drifting elsewhere. 

“When you fuck him, please don’t let him think it’s because he’s special. I know that’s the kind of thing you’d say, but if I didn’t like him arrogant I don’t think I could stand seeing him smug.”

“I don’t think Levi gets smug.” Says Erwin, deciding to ignore the bait.

“I don’t want to find out.” Mike says, finality in his voice, and Erwin looks round to see Nanaba and Gershin approaching, pulling up their own crates, and the conversation is dropped.

It is almost night. The shadows grow thicker outside the ring of orange in the courtyard. Erwin watches Levi standing alone, contemplating, and then he moves; walking with purpose towards the edge of the crack. He stops there, his weight slung casually over one hip, arms crossed, the fingers on his left hand tapping idly on his right bicep. He grinds his jaw. He does that, Erwin has noticed, when he is lost in thought.

A few people are watching, but it is late enough that most are engrossed in their own conversations. Levi doesn’t seem to mind having a few audience members. He slips his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out something small and wooden, a thick stick about three inches long. The flames glint off its smooth, varnished surface. Levi grips it along the diagonal of his palm, his fingers wrapped round one side and his thumb resting along the other, feeling its weight in his hand like it is new to him. It is then that Erwin realises what it is: it’s a knife handle, a crude and quickly-made knife handle. It is Levi’s. He must have smuggled it out of the Underground during his arrest. 

Erwin knew he had been biding his time, of course, knew that he let himself be captured. Levi planned to wait for the perfect opportunity to kill him, perhaps using that very knife. Erwin was so caught up in Lobov’s dealings and the approaching mission that he’d put Levi’s motive out of mind. It would have been so easy to stumble and provide him that perfect opportunity. It is very fortunate that Levi never took it. 

Levi looks at the handle blankly for a few long seconds, before throwing it, underhand and loose, into the fire. He turns and walks away without watching it burn, like he couldn’t be less interested. Erwin does watch. His eyes stick to it as it blackens, and then glows, turning to ash and embers.

On the edge of the circle once more, Levi stops. He visibly sighs, and then changes course, approaching Erwin and the others. Mike looks up, and Nanaba greets him warmly. He glances sharply at the soldiers in the group next to them. A boy scrambles up and gives Levi his crate.

He pulls it up. Gelgar offers him a drink. He surprises Erwin by taking it, grimacing at the rim before producing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping it off.

“Are you excited, Levi?!” Hange asks, standing behind Nanaba, Moblit to their right. 

“No.” Levi says, taking a sip.

“Ah, that’s too bad! This job really is terrible if you don’t get excited by it!”

“Is everyone else excited?” Levi asks the group. The resounding silence makes Hange gape.

“I am excited to see open land again.” Says Nanaba, throwing them a bone.

“I’m excited to get away from Sells’ whining.” Mumbles Mike.

“I’m excited to establish an outpost.” Erwin says, because he feels that he needs to. Box-ticking. Fitting back into his own skin. 

Levi rolls his eyes. Hange laughs. “Of course! Nothing like some hard-won progress to get Eyebrows all hot under the collar. I am excited to see some titans! What about you Moblit?”

Moblit seems to seriously consider the question. “I am excited to see a proper sunset.”

“Beautiful! Good answer. Gelgar?”

Gelgar is in his cups. He sits slanted sideways and squints at Hange. When he gestures, beer sloshes over the rim of his glass and onto his trousers. 

“I am excited to get home again. That will be a cause for celebration.”

“...I guess I’ll accept that as an answer, but it is sort of cheating.” Hange says. They ruffle his hair and he yelps, spilling more of his drink, knocking their hand away and frantically patting his quiff back into shape.

“Levi! What about you?”

Levi’s glare is more performative than ever - all bark and no bite tonight - and Hange meets it with a smirk.

“I’m excited to get away from your stench.”

Hange cackles, half-collapsing onto Mike. “Do you hear this man?! He just says what he thinks; no messing around with Humanity’s Strongest!”

“A blessing and a curse.” Erwin says, feels Levi’s eyes on his throat as he swallows his drink.

“Have you burned your tribute, Levi?” Nanaba asks.

“Yes, I have participated in your inane tradition, thanks for asking.” He says, low like a growl, laced with good humor. He drains his cup, wipes his mouth despite nothing spilling.

“What did you burn?” 

“None of your business.” He says. Exposure to Levi must lessen his effects. Two months ago, his rudeness would have made the atmosphere icy and tense. Now, Nanaba just shrugs and says “alright”.

“Erwin?” Gershin asks. 

“Not yet.” 

“That sounds suspicious.” 

“It isn’t. I just prefer it being dark.”

“Do it now!” Hange says. “The new recruits should see us vets furthering the tradition, right?”

“Very well.” Erwin sighs, stands, approaches the fire. After the clothes and books and flowers and even jewellery that has gone before him, the letter he pulls out is a little anticlimactic. He gives it a final cursory glance, feeling nothing, and drops it onto the flames. 

“Well?”

“None of your business.” He says, in his best Levi, and it makes the others laugh. Levi’s lips twitch. Erwin sees it. 

It is strange to see Levi here, amongst Erwin’s friends, speaking informally, drinking like that’s something he does. His shoulders are still tense, but he rests his forearms on his knees, and it opens his posture a little. He listens with his usual mixture of disdain and disinterest as they talk about Gelgar’s girl and Hange’s hygiene, but he is listening. They have come a long way in less than a year. Erwin hopes there are many more ahead.

The night passes. Some drink more than others. Erwin is talked into a game with Mike, which he wins. When the darkness is absolute, the energy reaches its peak, and the chanting begins, the toasts, the embracing, the arguments. Anger and joy and pride all reach a level of manic necessary to disguise the fear behind them. Erwin stands and watches as the younger recruits rise from their crates and hurl them into the fire. It belches huge and bright in the crack in the courtyard, consuming and crumbling all in one. 

Levi stands beside him, watching the flames again. A group of women are roasting what’s left of the meat on the growing inferno and handing it out. 

“Are you hungry?” Erwin asks. Surely my small talk is better than that?

He expects Levi to say ‘no’, but what he actually says is “I don’t like meat.” 

Unusual. “Oh? Why not?”

And instead of telling him to mind his damn business, or brushing the question off, a second phenomenon occurs. 

“We used to have to eat what we could get Underground. Rats, dogs, sometimes, if we found any. Stuff that had just died. Stuff we could catch and kill. Filthy. Tasted like…like rot and sewage. Like death. I got sick once, from a cat that had been dead too long, and it almost took me with it.”

He swallows, not taking his eyes off the fire. Erwin keeps his mouth shut. The sounds of cracking wood and laughter seem to fade away. 

“And then I was up here, and I’m not worried about eating but instead being eaten. Flesh is flesh. I don’t want it in my mouth. Makes me think of rats, and titans.” His shoulders lift in a very subtle shudder, and his brow lowers once more, closing off his face after allowing Erwin a peek underneath. 

“I suppose it is a bit morbid: to consume other animals and then go out and kill titans for doing the same.” It must be another thing Erwin has lost touch with, he supposes. Another muted sensation that may have once been horrible and is now commonplace to him. His numbness always prevails. 

Erwin’s never seen Levi throw meat away. He wonders if he gives it to someone else. Someone on his squad, perhaps. 

“Why don’t you go eat?” Levi asks, almost accusingly. The rest of their little group are picking around the food. Mike tears a chunk off his piece with his teeth, and Erwin sees Hange tease him for it. Anja has finally drifted over to talk to him.

“I have had my fill.”

They stand in silence that is almost companionable. Erwin thinks about Levi pulling the handkerchief from his mouth to proposition him in the corridor. Then he thinks about the long road ahead, starting with tomorrow. Always starting with tomorrow. 

“What did you do with the blade?”

Levi is quiet for a moment, and then says “Gave it to the armory. Didn’t want to waste good steel.”

“Good.”

More silence. They watch Hange torment the recruits and Mike gather a small group of squad leaders to play dice with. The atmosphere is a little charged. Erwin cannot think of what he wants to say, for once. 

“Why choose that as your tribute?”

Levi sighs. He sounds tired, a little defeated. 

“I don’t have much else. I’m not going to get rid of their things. Then I’d have nothing to fight for, I figure. So I burned that instead. It’s like, I don’t know, a tie to my old life. The one I’m not going back to. I suppose I’m one of you now. You’ve won, Erwin Smith.”

It perhaps isn’t Erwin’s victory, but it feels like his victory, now, as Levi tilts his head to look at the dark sky above. The prideful, animalistic part of Erwin longs to claim his prize. 

He blinks it away with alarm, reminds himself that he is not an animal, he is a man. Only monsters consume without need of nourishment. 

“What was that letter?”

Erwin glances at him. He looks like he knows the answer. They’re establishing level ground, then: honesty for honesty, truth at last. 

“Camille’s. Her last. I should have burned it as soon as I read it, but…”

He feels Levi’s eyes on him. They drift away again and he nods. 

“It was her last.”

“Yes. I wanted to treat it with some respect.”

“And now?”

“It is just a tradition, Levi, I am simply playing along.”

“You don’t do things by half. Everything has meaning with you.”

Their eyes meet. Levi’s look liquid in the flickering light, like the surface of whiskey in an expensive glass. Erwin decides that he doesn’t regret sharing his secret with Levi, even if it has made things harder. 

“It is done with.”

Levi scrutinizes him. “I don’t believe you.”

Erwin huffs out a laugh. “I’m not asking you to. That’s not the point of the tribute burning. It’s personal.”

“So you’re not just ‘playing along’ - you’re serious?”

Erwin sighs, watches the activity around the crack in the courtyard, the warmth and destruction and fear and hope cradled in the aftermath of something inexplicable and uncaring, like a bird’s nest in the skull of a beast. 

“I don’t know, Levi. I cannot predict the future. But I understand it is not sustainable. I wouldn’t want to break before my time.”

Admitting weakness does not come naturally to Erwin. He finishes his beer and doesn’t look at Levi. 

“Fine.” Levi says. His voice pitches low. It makes Erwin think of echoes in a cave. 

A cold, wet sensation blooms on Erwin’s cheekbone. He glances up at the source: a storm cloud looms. The weather is turning. More raindrops fall. Levi clicks his tongue in displeasure.

“That’s one way to put an end to this.” Erwin says, watching the troops notice the gradual patter on the stone, stretching out their palms to feel it on their skin. Several shriek and giggle. A few cover their heads, clumping close together. 

“That’s your cue to clear up and clear out.” Shouts Shadis from an upper window, emerging from his room into the second-story corridor, slamming it closed behind him.

“I’d better help.” Erwin says. Levi scoffs, wrenches his jacket up over his head as the heavens open, follows Erwin into the fray.

They work side-by-side to pack away crates and cups. Nanaba takes the beer barrel off some recruits attempting to roll it in the wrong direction. They run things to and from the kitchen as most of the younger troops scatter. Those remaining gather beneath the archway entrance and watch the rain sheet down, fighting the fire, tempering its glow. 

“It’ll burn itself out. Let’s leave it.” Mike says, tossing water from his hair.

“I’m all for going to bed.” Gershin rubs his brow. They traipse towards the barracks, clothes beginning to soak through, and bid each other goodnight in the hallway.

Levi peels off towards his own room. Erwin watches rainwater drip from his fringe onto his face, running down the point of his nose and slipping into the crease of his lips, like an artist’s pencil lovingly tracing the fine lines of his creation. Erwin clears his throat. He hears a door shut further up the hall.

Levi glances at him. The low light makes him look smaller.

Erwin jerks his head up, a tiny movement, easy to miss, or misinterpret. Levi does neither.

Erwin heads for his own room. After a few careful seconds, he hears the quiet, precise sound of Levi’s footsteps following him.

There is a fire burning in his room, still. He moves quickly to light a couple of candles so he can see properly. He hears the door open and close behind him as he does this.

He puts a candle on the windowsill and turns to carry the other to his chest of drawers. Then he pauses and looks at Levi, leaning nonchalantly against his closed door. The bolt is pulled across the lock. The rain picks up outside until it sounds like a carriage careering down a cobbled street.

And then they are alone again.

Chapter Text

Levi has had sex exactly three times in his life.

He feels that three is a decent enough number to have a grasp on the situation, and to decide if the pursuit of it is going to have a significant impact on his future or not. 

Two women, one man, just in case the bitter aftertaste of the first two attempts was because he hadn’t yet discovered that they were the wrong gender for him. He found him to be just as fleeting and disappointing. 

The first time, he was too young, as was she. Levi has know about these things for as long as he has known about anything. It wasn't until he was making his own way, after Kenny left, that he learned you were supposed to enjoy it. The concept of it made him feel anxious, unclean, angry, even. In the end he did it to get rid of the sheen of purity on him that he sometimes felt older criminals could sniff out, like a coating of delicate down that the Underground itches to tear. The men he grew up around liked them young and pure, so he tried to make himself not like that. He did it because she was cleaner than other girls he was around, and they sometimes shared the food they stole with each other. She said her name was Adela, but she could have been lying. She had the same hollow look in her eye, of grim understanding, that he knew he did: she was probably also a whore's brat. It was a frantic and awkward affair, and he thinks he saw her bleeding afterwards and worried that he’d hurt her. Other than that worry, he felt nothing. She disappeared from Levi’s life two months after. 

The second was a woman that used to follow him around post-ODM gear haul. She didn’t ask for favours, and didn’t insinuate herself into the group like Isabel would a few months later. Instead, she hovered round corners and watched Levi. He thought she was sly, when in actual fact she was shy. He saw her in a bar, drunk enough to be bold, and he let her get him into an alley, whisper words of admiration, spread her legs for him. She said she liked his face, that he looked different, like something magic. She had smooth shoulders and clean hair. Levi hadn’t hated it, he’d just been…dispassionate. 

The man was an accident. He used to buy wool from Levi and Farlan after their raids. When Farlan was out one evening and Levi dealt with him alone, he’d put his hand on Levi’s knee, and Levi had stared at it until he convinced himself he wanted it there. He was curious, but without genuine interest. He let this man, with his slender neck and his pale hair and his mismatched eyes, drop to his knees in front of him. He let him take him to bed. When he was groaning brokenly into Levi’s ear, he’d pushed a finger into him, and Levi had felt more affronted than aroused. By the end of it, all he felt was confirmation that he seemed to be as generally disinterested in men as he was in women. 

Sex according to Levi is a few minutes of welcome release, crowded on all sides by unwelcome vulnerability, prying eyes, uncleanliness and unnecessary feelings. Better to go without. It is not remotely worth the trouble. And since arriving at this conclusion, he has given it virtually no additional thought.

000

Erwin’s hair is wet. The rain’s messed it up, too. He looks weather-worn and untidy. Levi swallows.

Erwin takes his jacket off, and hangs it up. Then, he undoes the top two buttons of his collar. Levi watches him do this, expression carefully schooled, waiting for him to say something, to explain himself.

“Are you cold?” He eventually asks. He sounds calm. He meets Levi’s eyes.

“No.”

“Would you like to take off your jacket?”

The water is seeping into the shoulders, impressing upon Levi the feeling of a cold, damp limb slung around his neck. He shrugs, and slips out of it, folding it, dropping it on his usual chair, placed in its usual place against the back wall of the too-familiar room. He retreats to the wall near the door, with easy access to an exit.

“Did you want something?” Levi asks flippantly, unable to completely discard the facade of ignorance. It’s like a safety blanket, giving him the illusion of being able to disappear under it, like a child, should he need to. 

Erwin’s lips lift at the corners, so slightly Levi thinks it might be a trick of the light. He slowly, deliberately, rolls up his sleeves. Levi’s mouth goes dry with something similar to panic. Panic’s cousin. Something hotter, more insistent, less sour.

Levi listens to his own heartbeat increase, thudding louder and louder in his ears, as Erwin takes slow, sure steps towards him. A raindrop weighs down the tip of a lock of Levi’s hair, hanging in front of his eyes, and falls to the floor. He keeps his gaze locked on Erwin’s until he is so close Levi has to tilt his head back. He can hear his breathing, steady and even, making Levi conscious of his own, of how it quickens. 

Erwin’s eyes are so blue. They burn with knowing. Levi can’t maintain the facade any longer in the face of that knowing. It crumbles as he lowers his head, breaks eye contact, choosing instead to look at Erwin’s shirt, trying to pull himself together.

He’s shaking where he stands, like the string of a bow pulled taught before the arrow is loosed. Rooted to the ground, sweat prickling along his hairline, he stares at Erwin’s chest, at the torchlight pooling in the basin of his bolo tie. His mouth is full of glue, his head full of flies. He’s a fucking idiot for thinking he might...that they might...for letting it get this far…

“Levi. Ask me.” Erwin’s voice is low. Levi feels it in his molars. “Please. Ask me.” 

Levi knows what he is thinking: I have given you permission. Trust is an exercise in exchange. 

This thing they’ve been dancing around isn’t their own. It’s really about the others, about what they do to Erwin, and what he does to them. Levi wants to ask how more than anything - he knows why and he doesn’t care who - but he can’t find the words. His heart is racing. He thinks he’d rather face a hoard of titans than this conversation. At least he’d probably come out of that unscathed. 

Erwin moves forward a fraction, into Levi’s space, and the furnace-heat of him is too much. Levi’s hand shoots out and he stops him with a palm on his chest. He feels him breathing, mimics the rhythm, is dizzy with a sudden, overwhelming ache. 

He won’t look at his face. He can’t look at his face. His perfect face and his too-clever eyes. The hollowness he is constantly worried he’ll find there. If the reservoir of hope in Erwin’s eyes ever runs dry, they are doomed. Levi thinks about what he realised a week or so prior: they want him because he is handsome. They barter for him in the Capital because he is a beautiful thing to have, even for a night. They collect beautiful things there, and discard them just as easily. 

Levi does not yearn for beautiful things. They are difficult to come by, usually without function and more often than not impossible to keep hold of. When he gets a beautiful thing, when he finds one worth the trouble, he grips it so tightly it gets perfect cracks. 

“Show me…” he says, barely recognising his own voice, light and breathy, “what you do to them. Show me what they see.”

He has fisted Erwin’s shirt in the hand on his chest without realising.

The thick sludge of self-loathing creeps through his veins as Erwin’s gentle grip loosens his fingers, prising them off the material. He moves Levi’s hand for him, upwards, towards his open collar. Levi tries to imagine being raised a woman of the interior, a life of cushions and syrup, softness and leisure, with a boring husband and bratty children, standing in the shadow of the future commander of the Survey Corps, his untouchable, perfect humanity made touchable for one night, her satin fingertips undoing his shirt buttons. 

Erwin’s skin is warm. Levi forgets that other people are warm, sometimes. Erwin burns like a fire, inviting tributes. He slides open the buttons down to his clavicle and stares like he can’t believe he’s human under his uniform. His mouth floods with saliva. Pathetic. 

He splays his fingers against the skin he's exposed, feeling Erwin's breathing, teetering on the edge of this new revelation of his body. After a long moment, he finds his voice again. 

“What do they do now?”

“They ask me to touch them.” Erwin’s voice rumbles through his chest, along Levi’s arm like the aftershocks of a building collapsing. Levi flicks his gaze to Erwin’s face at last, his heartbeat thudding against his voice box. Erwin’s eyes are shaded and shining. 

“Touch me.” Levi says. 

Erwin does: the tips of his fingers resting gently against the strong tendons of Levi’s neck. He draws them up and around, scratching through the short hairs of his undercut, his thumb brushing along Levi’s jaw. It’s a light touch, simple and tender. The thing in Levi’s blood that seems so keen to tether itself to this golden madman roars to life, pounding against his temples. He feels his eyelids droop, his chest constrict, and he puffs out a too-loud breath. His jaw clenches under Erwin’s hand.

“Like this.” Erwin murmurs, like honey, like harmony, leaning close, crowding Levi against the wall, tilting Levi’s head to one side so he can bend down and reach his neck. “Like this.” He says again, and Levi feels it against his skin.

Levi’s anger melts, replaced with something harsher, harder, more demanding, at the touch of Erwin’s mouth to his neck. His insides writhe with the intrusion, the discomfort of having someone so close, so near his vitals, and him of all people, someone who used to be his enemy. But he doesn’t move away. He stands like a cocked gun, tense and terrified, as Erwin presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his pulse point.

Oh god, I’m going to fuck him, Levi thinks with hysterical relief, with a hot thrill, with a thrum in his crotch.

Erwin’s other hand appears warm and huge against the side of Levi’s ribcage. He backs himself fully against the wall and lets Erwin loom; trapped by the cage of his arms, frozen by the assurance of his lips. He yanks him closer by his shirt but can’t coax any further movement from his leaden limbs, catching his breath in his throat, beneath the skin Erwin kisses. It tickles. It feels...good. It feels good to be so certain of Erwin’s strength and have him touch him so tenderly. 

He’s pretending. I asked him to, and he’s humouring me. He’s thinking about the others as much as I am. He’s doing this to pay me, and I’m asking him to.

He bites Levi, a nip below his ear, and Levi lets out an ‘ah’ that encourages Erwin to push closer, to exhale deeply against him.

More. Now. 

Levi springs into action, tearing apart Erwin’s still-damp shirt, dragging him closer by the remains until they’re chest to chest, panting in tandem, and Erwin’s teeth drag up his chin to his mouth. Once more, Erwin kisses him, once more Levi lets him, but this time he doesn’t let him pull away again.

His kiss tastes forbidden somehow, like he couldn’t have picked a worse person to concede to in this way. But he’s weak for it. He is so fucking weak for it. Erwin’s lips are warm and welcoming, they draw Levi’s apart and show no hesitation in pressing further, harder, deeper. He kisses thoroughly, intently, and Levi shudders at the thought of someone else’s saliva in his mouth and then shudders again when he realises he doesn’t care. When he realises he’s invited it. When he realises he likes it. Erwin’s tongue is quick and clever. He coaxes something out of Levi that starts in his mouth and travels down to his chest; a reverse-sunrise, a descent into madness. He’s flushed and wrecked when they break for breath, forehead against Erwin’s, looking at his mouth like he’s never noticed it before. 

He doesn’t smell of perfume now; doesn’t smell of Sina or rich women or expensive wine. He smells of smoke, of rain, of metal and gear oil and sweat and leather; of the Scouts. He smells like this place that Levi now calls home.

Erwin is unbuttoning his shirt, trailing his fingertips over the bare skin of his chest, feather-light and vaguely reverent. Like he’d touch the noble women; delicately, teasingly, making them feel precious. The hard lines of muscle and scars carved into Levi’s chest must be a change: a diagram of violence, a chessboard of physical strain. There are no parts of Levi that are soft. 

Erwin stoops to take Levi’s boots off, and then brushes his thumb over his navel and his stomach concaves beneath the touch with his gasp. He’s ticklish there, apparently. His thoughts come slow and foggy. He wants Erwin to kiss him again. Instead he just slumps against the wall, breathing hard, flushed and sensitive, waiting for the axe to fall.

“You are beautiful.” Erwin says sadly, and rubs salt in the wound by adding “I have always thought so”. He says it like it is some great tragedy. What it is is a lie. Levi is narrow and stunted. His legs are too short and his eyes are too small and too sunken. His nose is pointed like a little girl’s; out-of-place in his sharp, ratty face. His skin is so pale he’s almost transparent. He is covered in scars, and so lean with his strength that the veins on his arms stand out. He looks perpetually pissed off, perpetually closed off, malnourished and sun-deprived and not that much better for his time Above. Not like Erwin. He’s got nothing on Erwin’s bold, masculine beauty. The certain tilt of his chin, the sharp slash of his cheekbones, his eyes blue like the sky, like freedom, towering over him all bulk and bravado. They couldn’t be less alike. It is a stupid thing for Erwin to say, and it makes Levi scowl. 

Then he remembers; it doesn’t matter who he is, or what he looks like. Erwin doesn’t see him right now. Erwin sees a pair of tits and a fat, closed purse. He sees some silly, giggling Sina woman that he has to praise and pacify, charm and stroke. He’d tell anyone they were beautiful in this situation. That makes Levi feel better: he’s giving him the full experience, rather than thinking that it’s ever something Levi would want to hear.

Erwin’s fingers drift under the waistband of Levi’s pants, contemplating the rise and fall of his stomach with his breathing. Levi’s getting impatient.

“Get on with it.” He growls. 

Erwin looks up at him. His pupils are blown. His other hand finds Levi’s jaw and he pulls him into another kiss; all slow and sensual, the rhythm filthy, as if he’s deliberately doing the opposite of what Levi asked. He’d be angry if he could find it in him to care; his mind wiped beautifully blank. Having Erwin kiss him is like...it is more than Levi can process. It is like he is explaining everything he wants to do to Levi with no words at all. How can the movement of two mouths render him so weak and useless?

It’s too much, really, this attention. He feels run through with it, split open by it; his head screaming one thing and his body screaming another. He’s never wanted anyone like this. He’s never felt a thrill at powerlessness before.

They kiss greedily against the wall, pressing skin to skin, Levi’s neck straining, Erwin sighing like he means it. It’s so much that Levi tries to hurry it along. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but his hands have ideas of their own. He’s gripping Erwin’s broad shoulders, grabbing what hair he can reach, yanking him closer, pressing his hips up into the bulk of him. Trying not to growl, he bites Erwin’s bottom lip and breathes hard into his mouth.

Erwin picks up on his obvious impatience. “What do you want me to do, Levi?” His huge hand settles on Levi’s lower back, pulling them together. Levi strains on his tip-toes, hamstrings complaining. 

“I - ugh - “ The bastard’s infuriating. Levi’s head feels like it’s full of smoke. 

“Tell me.” 

It’s a bespoke service, after all. He must be so adept at fulfilling requests by now. Scratching itches.

“Just…” I never want to think of you in the abstract ever again. I want this disgust, this jealousy, this curiosity gone. I want to impress the shape and sensation of you into my brain. I want to get this thing out of me that strings us together. I want you to feel even an ounce of what I feel when I see you from that damn rooftop; despairing, desperate, maybe a bit insane.

“Just fuck me...I don’t care - just…” Erwin’s hands drop to his ass and Levi’s words get lost in the labyrinth of his throat. “Isn’t that what you do?!” He says, angry all over again, as Erwin lifts him like it’s nothing.

Levi thinks with alarm that Erwin will take him to his bed, but he doesn’t. He drops Levi on the surface of his desk instead. It’s a relief. The bed is for rest; here is business. He sits Levi on the edge of it and insinuates himself between his thighs. Levi’s reaching for his face, pulling him close again to kiss him. Erwin’s lost a little composure now; his kiss is messy, his breath coming heavy. His grip on Levi’s thigh is too tight. It sends a shock of heat up Levi’s spine to know that Erwin could hurt him if he wanted, could snap him, perhaps; but he won’t, because Levi is an asset, because he needs Levi, and even if he wanted to, he would have to really try - 

It still feels a bit pretty, though, when Erwin moves to kiss his neck again, slides his shirt off his shoulders, strokes a hand up Levi’s thigh. It’s neat and practised, it’s his body without his mind, and Levi fights back a wave of discomfort because he knows that if he doesn’t see this side of Erwin then he’ll never understand. He’ll never understand Erwin fully, and he won’t understand his own feelings towards the matter either, and he’s fucking sick of that.

“Bite me.” He says, without thinking. Erwin pauses just below his clavicle and obliges. It hurts; enough to bruise. Levi is painfully hard. Erwin’s teeth clamp around his nipple and he practically yelps. He thinks he sees the bastard smirking. 

He knows Erwin’s trajectory, feels his hands creeping towards Levi’s belt, but then there is this sudden rush of motivation, of fury, of lust, a potent roll of it along his spine, making his hair stand on end. He can picture Erwin on his knees in his own room, sucking off his subordinate because he asked too many questions, because he owes him a favour, because he wants to show him he’s grateful for his skill and he doesn’t know any other way. It’s all wrong.

Levi pounces, drunk off this new energy, catching Erwin off guard, knocking him onto the floor and crawling on top of him. The rug is relatively clean, he thinks - Erwin must be maintaining it. 

“Like you mean it, bastard.” Levi hisses, tearing Erwin’s shirt off him completely, looming above, gripping at the sides of his head with his never-clean-enough nails. Erwin’s flesh isn’t his, it isn’t even Erwin’s, but there’s no one else in the room and Erwin doesn’t need to pay Levi anything, doesn’t owe him shit, so then who’s using who?

Erwin’s hands are back on his ass and he’s encouraging Levi to grind down into his lap. The friction stops Levi in his tracks for a second, mouth dropping open slightly, his vision going hazy, and Erwin bites him again, on the side of his neck, and it hurts but it feels so good, feels so real -

He’s losing his mind to the game of this, to where it blurs with reality, when The Captain stops and Erwin starts. He doesn’t know what his own body wants, but he moves his hips with a stuttering frenzy, glaring down into Erwin’s eyes. His pupils are even more blown now; a well among all that blue. Levi feels like he’s falling down it. 

Erwin’s body is as strong and golden and glorious as the rest of him, and the resentment has nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with how fucking ridiculous it is that he looks like that, that he behaves like that, that he delivers on all of his promises and underneath it all is still somehow honest, and even kind. He feels phantom women guiding his hands as they kiss, pressing them against his pecs, the ploughed field of muscles along his stomach. Something so perfect, finally in your grasp, for a moment, for a night, for a price. It infuriates Levi because he understands now. He wants Erwin. Right now he wants him so badly perhaps he would give him gold, or promises, or something more precious, like his stupid heart.

But he doesn’t need to. Erwin didn’t ask for it, Levi did. They’re something like equals, and Levi doesn’t fuck whores, will never fuck whores, so this is…

Erwin has unbuckled his belt and slipped his hand into Levi’s underwear, and the shock of his touch drags Levi out of his own endless spiral of thoughts. Their lips part the width of a finger. Levi squeezes his eyes shut, breath shaking into Erwin’s mouth, feels the muscles in Erwin’s arm flex as he drags his grip up the length of his cock. A fierce, spiky something slithers up Levi’s spine and vibrates in his ears. He’s panting like he’s been running. He’s gripping Erwin so tightly his fingernails hurt. 

“Are you -“

He doesn’t let Erwin finish his question. He slides their tongues together again, pressing himself against Erwin, chest to chest - oh, all that skin - like he’s trying to crawl inside him, take over his body, meld them together, bury himself in his brain. Erwin undoes his fly, exposes him to the air, touches him firmer, with a more insistent rhythm. He squeezes him at the base and Levi makes an embarrassing choked sound, sees stars - can’t quite believe this is actually happening - that Erwin Smith is jerking him off on the floor of his room with the tender efficiency of a professional. 

He presses his ass back against Erwin’s thigh, grips his bolo tie that’s managed to escape the purge of his shirt, finally meets his eyes. Erwin looks distant, but not in a disinterested way. He is watching Levi so closely it’s like he’s forgotten where they are and what they’re doing. His eyes widen and crease with every breath Levi takes, stuck to his face, cataloging his reactions. There’s a flush on his cheeks. Levi wants to kill him again. Levi wants to drop to his knees. 

There is a tangle of heat in the base of his pelvis, writhing and growing, demanding to be felt. Erwin brushes his thumb over the head of Levi’s cock and it’s a hard punch of pleasure, reverberating through his bones, making the heat worse. Making it better. It bubbles up through Levi’s stomach into his lungs. He’s never felt this in sex before: a growing, aching, mind-numbing instinct, driving him to move his hips, thrust up into Erwin’s hand, pant like a dog against Erwin’s chin, loose-limbed and vulnerable. In the past it had crept up on him and hit him all at once: the blink of an eye and a second of hot relief and then it was over, like a bullet to the back of the head. Now it feels like he’s running from something, running to something, and he realizes he could come like this, on Erwin’s floor, barely out of their clothes, having not even touched him. 

If he’s going to go careering over a cliff, he’ll make the fall worth it. 

He yanks at Erwin’s belt until it comes loose, losing focus and taking longer than he should, like his fucking ODM harness in the summer heat when he feels like his chest is going to explode. Erwin’s hard, too. That’s reassuring. That’s…that means this isn’t…means he is maybe…

He’s fucking huge. Levi hasn’t seen a great deal of cocks in his time, and he’s half tempted to make a titan joke but weirdly doesn’t want to give Erwin the satisfaction. It’s long and thick and…sort of pretty. Maybe. If Levi were to squint at it, which he won’t. As much as any genitalia can be pretty, he supposes Erwin’s is, seen as he’s not running for the hills or forcing down vomit and instead is rather compelled to touch it. 

Perfect face, perfect body, perfect mind, perfect cock. Figures. 

He wraps his hand around it. Erwin watches him do it with a look too calm and calculating to have any place in the maelstrom they’ve started in this room. He gives a squeeze, and watches Erwin swallow. His fingers don’t meet around it’s girth. 

An unguarded thought asserts itself into Levi’s mind, feral: I want that in me. I want Erwin in me. The idea is disgusting. It is also unrealistic. A finger had repulsed him before, how’s he going to wrangle that?! It leaves as soon as it enters; climbs through the window and runs straight out of the door. He’s no one’s bitch, least of all his whore Captain’s. 

Erwin’s hand vanishes from Levi’s own cock and he has a second to feel cold and bereft before Erwin spits into his palm and returns the touch. Vile. It feels hot and wet, like Erwin’s made a cunt for him to fuck up into. Levi’s forehead hits Erwin’s shoulder and a deep groan rips its way out of his throat. 

He can’t bear to look at him any more, especially as he’s fumbling around, trying to replicate the frankly genius ministrations Erwin is bestowing on him, but his hand is too small and his head is too fuzzy and he feels like he’s being wrenched backwards out of his body with every stroke and twist. He’s pressing himself closer again, right up in Erwin’s lap, their hands brushing as they touch each other frantically. Erwin lifts his other hand from the floor, shifting his weight forward to stop them falling backwards, and squeezes Levi’s ass with it. Maybe he is thinking about being there, too, as Levi just had. The thought makes him shiver, makes his hips stutter desperately. 

Levi manages to lift his head up enough to drop a slow glob of spit onto Erwin’s cock, using his hand to spread it down the length of him. Erwin sees this, then feels it. Levi can tell, because he twitches in his hand. He’s clearly losing his mind, doing something so unsanitary. He touches the head with his thumb like Erwin had with him and his captain groans, a small, choked sound, and it’s like the clouds parting to let the sun through. 

Levi pushes Erwin, shoves him with his free hand, and his back thuds against the floor. He’s tugging at Levi’s pants, and he gets the message, glad of his lack of shoes, shucking them over his bony hips and kicking them away. To expose more of himself is both mortifying and relieving. The air on his skin is welcome. He feels completely unchained. He also feels vulnerable. And he hates feeling vulnerable. There is a flash of lightning outside, illuminating the room through the gauze of the rain, but Levi misses the thunder that follows.

Erwin stares at him, like he did before, all big, awe-filled eyes, and Levi kisses him to stop him saying he is beautiful again or some shit like that. Erwin welcomes the kiss, sliding his tongue over Levi’s in a way that Levi feels in his bone marrow, and then biting his bottom lip. He’s been listening, then. He’s learning what Levi likes, like any good whore. Levi picks up the pace of his hand on Erwin, mirroring what Erwin is doing to him. He’ll take some satisfaction from the knowledge that it’s at least somewhat mutual, that he’s not spreading his legs and asking for an orgasm like Erwin’s on his time. 

“Levi, you’re - ah - you’re…”

“Shut up.” Levi says, kissing Erwin’s throat, biting at his Adam’s apple, breathing in hurried lungfuls of his scent. Erwin twists his wrist, presses down at the base again, drags his roughened fingertips up deliberately slowly, and Levi sees white behind his eyelids. “Fuck , there - just… god…”

How did it get to this? For months I sharpened my blade, thinking of your face, thinking of how you came into my life and took everything from me, and now I’m writhing around on top of you like I’m in heat, like I’ll die if you stop touching me. Please, don’t stop touching me…

Pathetic . 

He is startled by his own want, by the focus and scope of it. He wants so much from Erwin, feeling him heave in breaths beneath him, his huge chest expanding, his thighs trembling under Levi’s hips, his dexterous hands and clever mouth. He wants his power, the raw, unfettered, terrifying spirit of him, his stories and his promises and his vision. He wants all of his attention, always, if it makes him feel this intoxicated, this desirable, this important. He wants his hands on his throat, his cock, his face. He wants his stammering moans and the salt on his upper lip and the ridiculous fucking size of him. He wants his heady trust, his favor, his honesty, and his praise. He wants to follow Erwin to the end of the world, the end of his days, and have him look back and smile at him, and say thank you, and show him that it wasn’t in vain. He wants to see himself through Erwin’s eyes and then maybe he wouldn’t feel so worthless anymore. 

He can’t have it now. This pocket of time was an exception, a means to an end. And it is certainly ending; he feels that all of a sudden in the base of his stomach. Erwin’s hand speeds up, and it takes every ounce of concentration Levin has to mirror it. He strains his neck to bite at Levi’s collarbone, sighing heavily against the skin there through his nose, and that’s all it takes. White hot and overwhelming, Levi presses his face against Erwin’s chest and lets his orgasm rip through him. His mind is wiped clean. He doesn’t even have the capacity to feel ashamed of his own open pleasure, the wanton flush on his cheeks, the way his mouth drops open and he almost sobs at the intensity of it. 

The chord in his chest sings, guiding him through it, like a rope around his waist as he throws himself off a cliff, tethering him to the top. 

“God…” Erwin says, brokenly as if it was his own orgasm. Levi pants against his clavicle, trying to reorientate himself inside his own body. To think he thought himself a shell, immune to pleasure and frankly incapable of it. To think he never wanted anyone to touch him again. He feels purged, like the tension in his shoulders melts away, like he’s finally got rid of a particularly stubborn stain. 

Cold reality beckons, but his head is still swimming and his body is still humming. The mess he’s made is sticky on Erwin’s stomach. He sees it against his heaving abdominals. 

Ah. He’s still got a fistful of Erwin, hard like satin over steel. Erwin sighs like he’s satisfied, and suddenly Levi isn’t anymore. 

“How close are you?” He asks, his voice a hoarse growl. 

“Quite.” Erwin manages. His eyes are hazy, his lips parted as he pants. Levi wants to lick the sweat off him. 

“What do you want?”

His brows draw together. “What do I want?”

“Yeah, bastard, what can I do?”

He gives him a squeeze, just getting the feeling back in his fingers. Erwin bucks his hips up so minutely Levi almost missed it. 

Always this self-control. 

“You…want to-?”

“Yes, idiot. Yes I want to. Of course I fucking want to.” His bitterness, his anger, leaks out. Because he’s vulnerable, he knows. Because no one taught him tenderness, and he figures now isn’t a good time to try it out. 

Erwin wipes his hand off on his shirt, strewn on the floor behind him, and lifts himself back up into a sitting position, jostling Levi gently, like he weighs nothing. His eyes are narrow and focused, gauging Levi’s reaction again, toeing the line, almost. He puts his hands on Levi’s ass and lifts him, moves him forward until his cock is pressed against Levi’s stomach. Seeing them compared length to length makes him look even bigger. Levi wonders at it, almost masochistically. He doesn’t think, just wipes his own come off Erwin’s stomach and uses it to lube his hand up again. The sight is revolting. Erwin’s breathing gets noticeably heavier. 

The hands on his ass guide him forward, grinding his hips into Erwin’s, his hand on his cock and his eyes on his mouth. He is close: the rhythm he encourages out of Levi is quick and desperate. Levi tightens his grip a little, undulates deeper and harder into the movement, rutting like livestock, damp with sweat and spit and spend, and not even having the coherence to hate it, to recognize it for what it is and try and put himself together again. 

Erwin’s face is beautiful in pleasure. He tilts his noble chin up to Levi, asking for a kiss, and Levi grants him one, all deep and messy, Levi’s other hand fisting in his hair, their mouths opening against one another. Levi feels small and powerful all at once: in the air with his blades out, standing atop the Wall, staring down at a steaming corpse. Erwin chokes on a whimper, his rhythm growing erratic. Levi wonders if he looks like this with the noblewomen; this gone, this glorious, like for once in his life his goal is more immediate, more selfish, and Levi can give it to him, can hand it to him on a silver plate. The thought thrills him, that he can finally give Erwin what he wants, easily and in its entirety. 

He looks down at what he’s holding. Erwin’s cock is flushed and leaking. It looks even bigger than it did before. Levi lays his wrist against his own stomach, stroking Erwin through it. The tip aligns with the bottom of Levi’s rib cage. Would it even fit? He thinks before he can help it. Something on his face must show his thought process, or else the way he presses Erwin against his body, sizing him up. Erwin sees it, understands what Levi is thinking, and it pushes him over the edge. 

He comes with a restrained gasp, a strangled moan, and Levi watches. Erwin’s teeth are gritted, his eyes screwed shut like he’s in pain. Levi carries him through it with a detached fascination, giddy and distant, not quite himself, and watches, tries to make sure he won’t forget what it looks like when Erwin gives himself over to it. It’s slippery over his fingers, like ink. He feels exhausted. 

Erwin’s head knocks against Levi’s sternum and rests there. He sighs. Levi looks at his hand. 

“Ugh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apologizing is even more disgusting.” He says. His words are warm and slurred together. He feels weak and boneless, his skin still simmering. 

Erwin reaches blindly for his shirt, still not lifting his head up, and hands it to Levi, who wipes off his hand and, since Erwin doesn’t seem to want to move from where he is bent against Levi’s body, he proceeds to attempt to clean up the rest of the mess without a direct eyeline, dabbing at Erwin’s stomach, his own crotch, the top of his thighs. 

Once he’s done he puts his hands back on Erwin, a compulsion he allows for the final few moments of this encounter. He threads his fingers through blonde hair, damp with rain and sweat, and rests the other hand against the broad plane of his shoulder blade, stroking him as you might a sick child. Erwin’s hands move from Levi’s ass to his hips, holding him steady. It’s…it’s quite nice. To be held by him. Tenderness instead of animosity. Or professionalism. Just for a moment. 

Levi’s creeping sense of dread wars with his post-orgasm optimism, and he decides to go with humor to balance them out. 

“No wonder you got the damn expedition paid for.” He says. He feels an amused exhale puff against his chest. 

“I wish every attempt at fundraising had been as enjoyable as that.”

Levi doesn’t know if he’s still playing his part, charming Levi through the afterglow, or being honest, and he doesn’t really care. Erwin lifts his head at last and his eyes are more open than usual. He looks younger. Happier. Perhaps it’s just the inverted vantage point. Levi leans down to kiss him without thinking about it. It’s slow and indulgent. Erwin tastes like alcohol and smoke. He holds Levi in his encompassing embrace and kisses him like he means it. 

Lightning flashes again as Levi draws himself away from Erwin’s mouth, slowly, almost reluctantly. The space opens up between them like a wound; wet and warm and sensitive. Levi feels everything settle back on his shoulders, and sees it solidify in Erwin’s eyes.

“Thanks.” He says, not unkindly, not warmly either. He says in the word the whole sentiment of ‘thank you for paying me the way I asked’.

Erwin’s smile is small and tight, tired more than anything. He says “my pleasure” earnestly, though. Levi climbs off him and pulls his pants back on. He grimaces to find them still wet from the rain. 

Erwin stands, fastening his fly, dropping his soiled shirt into his hamper, all six-foot-something of him straightening out into The Captain again. The slope of his shoulders is more pensive than usual, less rigid. Levi wants to press them down until they relax. He also wants to leave and never touch him again. 

“Get some rest, Levi.” Erwin says softly, watching the storm mellow into steady rain, “It’s an important day tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Says Levi, pushing his hair off his face, letting the night simmer a little. It won’t be happening again, so he wants to soak up every last drop of it, every subtle mannerism of this Erwin, the Erwin that was briefly his. 

He wants to tell him that he shouldn’t be here, that he shouldn’t be scraping along, compromising his pride and his morals for the sake of a cause that looks ever more out of reach. He’s silhouetted against the window, backed by the light of the candle. Sometimes Levi wonders if he is even human. He’s struck with this thought now, despite having been so intimate with him only minutes earlier. He seems, once again, colossal and ancient, so tall and straight his head is in the clouds, and Levi cannot reach him, and is foolish for thinking he ever could.

Ugh. I’m getting sentimental over something so stupid. He still feels a little hazy with bliss. He’s had his fill. He heads for the door.

“I won’t be paying you personally again.” Erwin says without looking at him. Levi feels nothing.

“I know.” He says, and slips out of the door.

His bunk is cold. For once his bunkmates aren’t snoring. They are lying in their beds, staring at the ceiling in silence, pretending to be asleep. They don't stir when Levi comes in. He notices there is one too few: he isn’t the only one sneaking out tonight, squeezing the last drop of pleasure out of life before they charge into oblivion. Either that or they've had a deserter. He can still feel Erwin’s touch; firm and confident and secure. It melted Levi’s stress away, for a bit, wiped his mind clear and all that shit. He’s surprised at himself: surprised he asked, surprised he went through with it, surprised how much he lost himself. No regrets.

That night, he dreams of hands: grabbing, tearing, touching, applauding. 

Chapter Text

The rain drives most of the animals away. It’s like cold fingers caressing Levi’s back, running in uncomfortable rivulets down the dips of his spine where it has slipped past his cloak. Visibility isn’t too bad. It’s sound he’s concerned about. The splatter of water on the stone of the ruined town is too noisy. He has to focus to slip below it, to listen to the ground itself, the tremors of what is approaching.

He’s at the front of the formation, to the left, behind the row of spotters, right where Erwin put him. His blades feel heavy on his hips. He’s itching to take them out. 

He glances over at Erwin. His hair is messed up by the rain. His brows are set in a line. His eyes are on the horizon.

Shadis, centre rank, barks an order. Levi didn’t hear what he said over the noise, but he knows what the command will be. The derelict buildings fall away. The land opens up. He pulls his horse to the left and the formation fans out like a bird unfolding its wings.

Levi’s horse is young, flighty, trusting, stubborn. She spooks at a rustling bush but charges at 15-meter classes if Levi tells her to. She is a dappled grey with a white patch on her nose shaped like a bell. If they survive this, Levi will name her.

The first titan they see on that first day is a quadruped. It’s so ugly Levi wants to slice its face off first. He doesn’t get to engage at all: smoke curls green and guiding in the grey sky and he pulls his horse round and re-routes. 

The route is rockier than he remembers. He’s worried his horse will fall and break her leg. He casts a thought back to the new recruits on the East path. He thinks about how their first titan sighting might be their last. He hopes Gershin wasn’t just blowing steam, and actually has it in him to protect them.

The day is long and miserable. His head hurts from the effort it takes to stay alert, tracking sound and vibrations through the earth, over the constant disruption of the rain. Once the formation is fully unfurled, he sees virtually no one, just their smoke signals, just their tiny speck-silhouettes on the horizon. The titans he does spot are slow, can’t see him yet - he’s too small, too quick, and he catches sight of them immediately, sometimes even before the spotters do. None of them break far enough in to threaten his position, protecting the centre rank, the last line of defence before the medics, the essential supplies, the stuff they’re all fucked without.

He’s got new boots. They’re too big for him; they almost always are. He’s had to stuff a sock in each toe to make them fit, so he’s not clumsy in combat. He feels like those kids behind the brewery. He wonders if they’re getting rained on, too.

The boots are leather. Camille Weber’s leather, probably, paid for with Erwin’s false promises of love. And then she killed herself, and Levi wears her leather, with socks stuffed in the toes so they fit.

After around three hours, the formation makes a sharp turn to the West. Levi sees the black smoke and accepts it with a tired resignation. He’s drenched; waterlogged and heavier than usual, and honestly he is too tired to get any sick thrill out of the thought of fighting titans, but the abnormal seems to have broken the line of spotters and is making its merry way towards Levi’s position. There are two new-ish kids behind him. He sighs, clicking in his blades, urging his mare onwards, waiting for the damn thing to emerge from the treeline.

The ground shakes and he can hear the footsteps over the rain, even before he sees it. It’s not too big, but it’s fast. It hasn’t noticed Levi yet, careering towards the centre without any discernible motive in its bulbous, blank eyes. 

Just my luck. We must be nearly at the rendezvous. 

Levi stands in his stirrups as it gets closer, giving his mare’s mane a pat, praying she doesn’t get flighty and abandon him all of a sudden, and then the thing’s great shadow falls over him, and he blinks the rain from his eyes to get a good look at the bulk of it. 

It’s noticed him, but doesn’t slow down. A true abnormal, then. If Hange was here, they’d probably squeal in delight. Levi just curses under his breath and gets to work.

He has to chase it down a bit. One of his grapples slip from its shoulder as the muscle flexes and pulses beneath the skin. On the second time, Levi hoists himself from the saddle and glides up to its neck. It barely notices him. Its blood is hot, smells foul, can’t evaporate fast enough. He stands on it as it falls, bracing his knees against the impact with the ground, and peers through the rain at where it was heading. 

It would have got to Erwin’s lot next. What do these ones want, I wonder? Why ignore me when it can’t possibly know there are more of us ahead?

Questions for Hange. He doesn’t give a shit what these beasts think, if they think anything at all. It’s like killing rats in the Underground when they creep into your room: if you spare one, they all come flooding, and they have no such conscience regarding people.

His horse stays. He slides back into the stirrups and races to catch up with his position. 

He remembers killing a rat with Kenny, once. Kenny used to just stamp on them, but that got gore on the floor, and Levi didn’t like the stain it left, the smell that lingered, so he’d snick their heads off, or break their necks because it was cleaner. He didn’t like putting his hands on them, but he figured it was worth it if he didn’t have to scrub their guts out of the wood.

“Put ‘im outside. On the doorstep. Teach the others a lesson.” Kenny had said, picking his fingernails with his knife. 

“What lesson?”

“Not to come in here. They see their dead buddy, they leave us alone, you get it? You gotta kill one bad, make it look like it hurt, as an example to the others. That way, they won’t wanna end up the same, you see?” 

He must have been in a good mood that day, Levi considers, if he talked so much. Not that Levi can be sure of his exact words.

So Levi had made it look like it hurt, put the thing’s body on the doorstep, asked Kenny more questions.

“Won’t the others be angry?”

“Tch. No. Rats don’t know anger. Rats know fear, and that’s it. You scare ‘em enough and they behave, like you.”

Levi had scowled, had taken on this new information, had gone to sleep thinking about the bloody mess outside the front door, listening to Kenny snoring. 

The rats hadn’t been scared into submission, and they hadn’t grown angry and fought back, either. When Levi opened the door the following morning, he found that they had picked the bones of their comrade clean.

After another half an hour or so the ground begins to slope. There are two more titans but only one gets close enough that he needs to kill it. It’s slow with its heavy limbs. There is blood on its chest.

He comes upon the river at last. It is higher with the rain. There isn’t a bridge; he must have drifted off track, and it’s not like he has a map. He’ll have to wade through.

He jumps from his horse, wrenches a branch off a tree, snapping off the protruding twigs, reaches out as far as he can, dips it down until it touches the bottom, brings it back to measure the height. The whole of this river is shallow enough for horses to cross, Erwin had said, but probably not for Levi to lead her. He’ll have to ride. He doesn’t like the look of the current. Is it worth riding until he reaches the bridge? He has learnt this land well enough. He guesses he is too far East. If he is wrong, he will be following the river forever, until it ends or he is eaten.

No. No time. He has already been waylaid by titans. Once he is across, he can go back to protecting the centre rank, like he was told.

He mounts his mare again. She is apprehensive of the water. But not of that huge hulking monster that tried to eat me?! He tuts at her, clicks his teeth, tries to soothe her fear by stroking her neck. He guides her to the water’s edge and has to kick her to get her into it. It’s easier once her forelegs are in. She’s strong, pushing in until she’s in up to her shoulders. River water spills over the top of Levi’s boots, which would be a major annoyance if he wasn’t completely soaked already. The breast band of her tack is like a keel, she ploughs through the current like the hull of a boat. No, less streamlined. The stern, then. In the middle of the river, when it is at its deepest, she has to lift her head up, tilt her muzzle back, to keep it out of the water. Levi feels a thumping of putrid anxiety as the water slips up to his knees. Humanity’s Strongest: drowned in a river, dragging his horse down because he was too damn short to wade across himself.

The current pushes them from the side. The horse stumbles but she’s stubborn, plowing through, a boat, a beast, resisting the force of the water. Levi murmurs encouragement at her, eases her bit, stretches forward to scratch behind her ears.

“C’mon, girl, we both wanna get out of this alive.”

When the water gets shallower, he feels like he sinks down into his saddle with relief. The other side so clearly in reach spurs the horse on, too, and she practically throws herself up the opposite bank, shaking the water from her flank, blowing it out of her nostrils. Stubborn. Stern. Like a boat.

“That’s it. Not far now.” He’s talking to a horse now, apparently. The rain lashes. He must be nearing the settlement.

No titans on the next stretch. The broken houses loom into view like a child’s half-finished drawing. It’s quiet. Even the rain is softer. The waterwheel has rotted off its axle and fallen on its side into the river. There is a sense of presence behind the line of brick separating Levi from what used to be the main street. There are people gathered there. He urges his mare on to meet them.

Fewer than he’d hoped, more than he’d expected, clustered around the old town square. As Levi approaches, hooves sound to his right and he’s joined by several left wing spotters, clumped together in the rain.

Erwin is there, talking closely with Shadis. He looks unharmed, but he’s missing his cloak. 

He does a quick headcount, face solid and unmoving, emotionless and practical. Hange looks alright, near Moblit. Mike’s drinking rainwater out of a fountain - revolting - but he seems ok. The others - Nanaba, Sells, Gershin - yes, all here. His squad isn’t here yet. He didn’t expect them to be; they were at the back of the formation. He slips off his horse and leads it into some shelter, ringing out his heavy cloak, kicking off his boots to pour the river water out. He feels wretched and cold, like a drowned rat, shivering under the arch of a crumbling house. 

“Levi! Report!” Barks Shadis once he notices him. Levi sighs. He doesn’t want to put his boots back on yet. He’s about to shout back something scathing when Erwin bends to speak into Shadis’ ear. The Commander’s frown deepens, he rolls his eyes, nods and turns away to speak to a distraught looking squad leader whose name Levi doesn’t remember.

Erwin approaches. He’s soaked, too. His hair looks longer like this, plastered to his face. It makes his cheekbones stand out more. Levi nods at him.

“Any problems?” Erwin asks, dripping onto the old cobbles, like he hasn’t even noticed the rain. 

“No. Took down two. One was an abnormal. Haven’t seen anyone else. Saw some black smoke, though. Not optimistic. Almost drowned in that fucking river.” He says, emphasising it with a shake of his hair, like a dog, pushing it off his face.

“Good work.”

“How’s everything else?”

“We’re still waiting for the rear teams to report. The centre rank made it successfully. We took severe casualties on the right flank.”

“The recruits?”

“No. The spotters.”

“Right. How many?”

“A dozen at least. We are still getting numbers in.”

“Shit.”

“Mn.” Erwin glances back out, over the tops of heads, seeing things Levi cannot. 

“We’re not safe here.” Levi says.

“Agreed. We wait the allotted time. If the stragglers don’t catch up, we continue as planned. They will just have to ride through and follow.”

That doesn’t sit well with Levi. He grits his teeth, squeezes the water out of his socks. What’s the point? It’s gonna rain for hours yet. The sky is unrelentingly grey.

“How was the front?”

“Eventful. Lots of titans. We lost Julien.”

Levi nods. He barely knew him. He used to sip his water loudly and doodle on his notes in meetings. 

“Did you recover his body?”

“Nothing to recover.”

“Right.”

Erwin doesn’t look tired, or daunted, or mournful. He looks rigid, unyielding, more determined than Shadis. He looks like a stranger, like the man Levi met Below who chased him down and had his face slammed into the dirt. It is hard for Levi to believe that less than twenty four hours previously he had his cock in his hand and his tongue in his mouth. This Erwin doesn’t call his men beautiful, or kiss their neck. This Erwin watches them die and shouts ‘onward!’

“If there is nothing else to report, I’ll relay as such to Shadis.” Erwin says. Levi nods. 

The rest of the squad do make it in time. Half of the back of the formation has been eaten, but Erwin’s team were spared. Hallie looks whiter than usual as they ride in, bedraggled and exhausted. They have barely ten minutes to rest, eat, take stock, before the whole formation is told to prepare for the next leg. Levi’s back in his boots, back on his horse, watching Erwin blink rain off his eyelashes. Hange sidles up next to Moblit and leans close to tell him something. There is a recruit in the central left flank trying desperately to quell his sobs. 

The shout from Shadis comes and they leave the town behind.

They ride into the night. The left flank must break, because just before the sun sets, a group of five titans all descend upon Levi at once. He’s near a vet, Uwe, who drifts near to assist. Levi’s tired. One of the smaller ones gets a swing in and it knocks him, sends him reeling, dizzy, for a few moments. Uwe is practically useless, but Levi supposes he makes an alright decoy. He kills them all himself, wonders how many of the left spotters are crushed in their stomachs, drops to a knee after it’s done and screws his eyes shut. The darkening horizon swims before him.

“Are you alright, Levi?” Asks Uwe. He seems more scared of Levi than the titans that almost killed them thirty seconds ago. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get going.” He mumbles, rubbing the sore spot on his skull. He hopes he doesn’t have a concussion. The last thing you need out here is to be seeing double.

They reach a forest of giant trees after the sun has gone, and it has finally stopped raining. Levi’s muscles set to stone, waiting for an ambush to come crashing out of the dark, but nothing stirs. He lights his torch and sees the twin glow of Uwe’s a few yards away. He squints into the distance to try and pick out more pinpricks, but either the nearest spotters are dead, too far away or obscured by the gradually-thickening trees.

There are Scouts in the trees, when they get big enough to be tactically worthwhile hideouts. Titans paw at the bases. Levi and Uwe skirt by the biggest clusters and loop back around to drop their horses off in the makeshift paddock. Levi has to kill a titan in order for them both to propel up to safety.

He tries to do another headcount, but his vision isn’t good enough and his head is hurting worse now. Instead, he sets off using his gear and follows the treeline back around until he reaches Central Command, which is just a particularly long, thick branch. Shadis looks exhausted. Erwin is there, unmoved as ever. No sign of Hange or Moblit. Or Mike. There are two other squad leaders muttering furiously over a plan. Erwin catches sight of Levi, nods, perhaps visibly relaxes, but that could be a trick of the light. Levi grapples up to the branch.

“Report?” Shadis asks. Levi clicks his hilt back into place. 

“Five of them just beyond the third outcrop. I was with Uwe. I killed them all. Encountered another two in the treeline.”

“Are you injured?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Find a perch. Sleep if you can, but we need all eyes on the ground tonight until everyone is accounted for. Or pronounced missing.”

“What's the news on the rest of the formation?” He asks. Shadis looks irritated. He is often cagey about offering information to his subordinates. It makes Levi distrust him.

“The left flank took a serious hit.”

Levi nods; he’d thought as much, when the five appeared. 

“Any survivors?”

“Two.”

Out of twenty. The figure is bleak even detached from the loss of human life.

“Right.”

“Rest, soldier.”

Levi doesn’t salute, or do anything else that might have been polite, instead he gives Erwin a final glance - where the fuck has his cloak gone? - and zips off into the forest to find his own tree. He won’t sleep much, but thankfully he's used to that, so he’ll keep a lookout. He picks a tree on the outskirts, peering down. Do titans sleep? They seem...lethargic, now. The one directly below Levi’s perch is completely motionless, staring up at him. It’s unsettling. They’re not usually so still.

He sits against the vast trunk and tries to rest. It is difficult to get comfortable in sodden, cold clothes. Images of the left flank fill his head. He knew men in the left flank. Gelgar was in the left flank. He wonders who survived. Two out of twenty.

What is worse is that this isn’t enough of a hit to turn back. This level of casualties was predicted, pondered, deemed acceptable, written into the expedition documentation, signed off higher up; the cost was put at two in twenty; a fair price, a reasonable estimate. They will push on tomorrow, and lose more, right on schedule, just as Erwin and the others calculated they would.

Levi maybe sleeps, dozes at least, has quite a nice dream about doing laundry with Farlan, unusual for him but then again his brain cannot conjure much worse than his waking world at the moment. He drifts in and out, stirring at the sound of others approaching, the whizz of wires as more stragglers join them in the trees. The titans are quiet, for once. People shout and he half-hears it, half-processes the information. He wakes before dawn. There are more people in the trees now, like lots of little spiders clinging to the same huge web, peering down at the ground.

Morning arrives, weak and watery, spilling sunlight across the forest, rousing Scout and titan alike. They gather at Central Command, hanging from the surrounding trees, perched on nearby branches, listening to Shadis’ orders. They’ve taken a substantial hit, not enough to turn round, but a reshuffle is needed to maintain the line of spotters. Spotting is now looking increasingly like a death sentence. Shadis at least tries to ease the new recruits’ fears by saying that the next stretch is easier. Levi isn’t sure if that is the truth or not.

Hallie and Yenna are assigned to spotting positions. They move Levi further up front, directly into the line of combat. Being nearer them might be better for the persistent itch of worry, he considers. He can supervise his teammates himself. After this leg they’ll reform into squads, and that’s when all the training will pay off.

He finally catches sight of Hange. They’re camped in one of the trees furthest out. They look like they haven’t slept a wink; that fervent, maniacal energy bubbling out of them. Moblit is there, too, looking equally dishevelled. Poor guy’s stuck with them for almost the whole expedition, Levi thinks with pity.

Someone hands him something to eat - crackers, a small strip of dried meat that tastes like mutton, a flask of lukewarm water - he consumes without complaint. There is a lump on the base of his skull where he was struck the previous day, but his vision is back to normal again. He rubs it, holds the flask against it, longs for a bath already. It will be a difficult couple of weeks.

He helps a recruit bandage up their friend before they leave again. She’s lost a foot. A medic managed to sew it shut during the night but the risk of infection out here is high and it’s too late to send her back to the Walls now. She doesn’t cry or scream, just stares at the stump where her limb now ends abruptly like she’s facing the gallows. Levi gives her his leftover meat. Two birds, one stone.

Then they are back on the advance. The rain holds off until afternoon, and then gets steadily worse. Levi’s out at the front now, seeing more titans than ever, has to kill three of them before he even stops to let his horse rest. The sky is streaked with clouds and coloured smoke, like the blend of soaps and dirt that swirl together in the shower drains back home, and every sound sets Levi on edge. He doesn’t see anyone for the whole next leg - too far out in front to encounter anyone from the inner ranks - but he does his duty. He holds the line of Erwin’s formation.

At the rendezvous he sees Hallie with Samuel - the inner back left must have caught up - that’s either very good or very bad. They sit on the sodden ground, mud on their cloaks, looking miserable. Samuel knocks his forehead into Hallie’s shoulder as she valiantly fights back tears. Levi approaches. They look up at him through the rain.

“Yenna is dead.” Says Hallie.

Levi swallows, nods, glances out across the rocky outcrop they’re seated on, just the left side of the formation. Their next leg will see them to their overnight stop. Then, tomorrow morning, they will reform into squads and it will be only a few hours until they reach the hill settlement where they plan to establish the outpost.

“Did you manage to recover anything from her?” Levi asks, surprised at how gently it comes out. He’s not good with his voice, not good at using it to express himself, and things come out sour or cold when he doesn’t mean it, but the rain or the sombre mood or the lack of use during the day makes it rough, low, mournful.

Samuel trembles, shakes his head, drops his gaze to the floor. 

“Got her horse.” He murmurs. Levi strains to hear it over the rain.

“There might be something in her saddlebags.” Hallie says softly, stroking Samuel’s wet hair off his face. 

Levi remembers being grateful that he was closer to them; within a small enough distance to protect them. He couldn’t, it seems.

“Did anyone see it happen?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

Hallie raises her face to look at him. Brave, almost. Defiant.

“We found her horse miles off her route. If she wasn’t lifted off it, she won’t have lasted long without it.”

Levi nods. He hates unfinished business. She might have been killed instantly. The last few moments of her life could have stretched on for hours, filled with bleak terror, without a horse in no-man’s land. She could be alive still, he supposes. But she’ll never get to them without a horse. She is alive and dead. She is something in between, and it turns his stomach. Yenna was stern and serious, capable and dependable. Levi liked her. He liked how she saved Samuel from himself.

Condemned him, more like, with my help, he thinks, bitterly. 

“Alright. We’ll relay to Central Command later. Anyone else?”

“Coholt.”

Don’t know him. “Ok. That’s it?”

“That we know of.”

“Yeah. Right. ‘Course.” 

Why am I taking command? Distance. It’s the distance. Samuel looks too weak-willed to stand. Hallie’s putting on a brave face. Levi can take this. He can be Erwin for this afternoon.

He waits for the rest. There is another person who never shows up. Their squad mate makes a note, and after feeding the horses, Levi tells everyone to move out again.

More ground covered, more rain, more titans. It never ends, this space. It’s almost overwhelming, how big the rest of the world is, how open and unknowable. How long would he have to ride to reach the end? Is there an end?!

His horse is ready to drop when they reach the night stop. He sits with her a while and strokes her ears. He thinks about how strong she must be to run for miles with a man on her back, without slowing or stopping, and yet how a broken leg is a death sentence for her. More death. They don’t treat them right, up here. So many animals running around their lives hardly count. A horse down Below would cost your life’s savings. And it’s alive, not like the ODM gear.

They camp on the ground of another rocky outcrop, split up into three sections with relays between them, so as not to attract titan attention. It works, mostly. There are fewer up here, in the high lands. It’s a good place to stop but not a good place to stay. The rock is slippery beneath Levi’s too-big boots and the wind is ferocious, battering the sides of their tents with near-horizontal rain. Levi is on lookout duty for the first three hours. A few titans slap their hands against the cliff’s edge, but none of them are smart enough to figure out how to go around yet, so he just sits on the precipice and watches them, disinterested, his mind elsewhere.

He thinks, bizarrely, of his mother. A hazy memory floats to the surface; her hands cupped around a candle, her unwashed hair tickling the tips of Levi’s ears as he sat in her lap, the way he’d watch the flame for hours with his mouth open, smelling her behind him, the brittle bend of her body cocooning him. She smelled like home, like safety, like dirt and sewage and sweat. Levi stared at the dirt under her nails and felt the warmth of the candle on his face. He didn’t have toys. He had what little they could get to live and whatever time and energy she had to indulge him. He remembers her with a sickly, desperate love. With a longing so acute it takes the breath from him, sometimes.

Erwin arrives for the night, after the rain eases a bit. He looks perhaps a little more tired than usual. He speaks with Hallie and Samuel for an hour or so - Levi watches him disappear into the tent they are sharing. When he emerges, he sighs, perhaps not knowing that someone is watching him, but then he turns to Levi’s post, peers at him, lit a little by the weakly-flickering torch he has stuck into a crack in the rock beside him. He makes his way over. Levi straightens up.

“Sir.” It comes out mocking. Levi hasn’t spoken in hours.

“Levi. Everything under control here?”

“As much as it can be.” Levi indicates over the side. The darkness has swallowed the titans at the bottom, but Erwin nods like he understands. “What about in the centre rank?”

“It has held well. No titans this leg. I’m staying here tonight and riding back at dawn.”

“Not taking a watch like the rest of us?” Levi means it as a light tease, but Erwin, as ever, delivers.

“I have already taken my watch.”

Levi scoffs, rolls his eyes, looks away from him, out over the black, endless landscape.

“I heard that we lost Yenna.”

“Yeah.”

“That is a terrible shame.”

“Yeah. She was…” Levi looks at the rock he sits on, scuffs at a patch of moss with his thumb, “She was good. She was a good soldier.”

“Yes. She was brave. I imagine she went out as such.”

We’ll never know. Does the truth matter, then?

“What about the others?” Levi asks, dreading the answer with a vague detachment.

“Five casualties on the right.”

Levi looks at him - at him standing there without his cloak, all the precise cuts and contours of him, all six-foot-something of knowledge and nerve - and doesn’t need to ask the question he is too ashamed to.

“No one you know.” Erwin supplies, mercifully, breaking eye contact.

“Klaude will take over. You’re dismissed.”

Levi sighs, stretches, pops the joints of his shoulders and wrists and climbs wearily to his feet. He picks up his torch.

“Have you set up a tent?”

“Not yet.”

“Have you been assigned a partner?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

“I don’t ‘play well with others’ so I get my own tent.” Levi drawls, following Erwin back into camp.

“I’m afraid that isn’t the case tonight. As I’m on relay, you’ll have to share with me.”

Levi sighs again, genuinely put-out. He’s not in the mood for Erwin’s stare, his intensity, his overwhelming presence. He just wants to collapse and reset himself. He doesn’t want to be crammed into a tiny space with his captain, to sleep beside him, thinking about the taste of his skin.

“Fine.” He says, he almost-snarls, stalking off to his pack, shaking out the oilskin, the poles clattering hollowly on the stone. At least the rain’s stopping.

“Let me. You must be tired.” Erwin’s voice is soft. He’s keeping it down, so he doesn’t wake the others. Levi has no such qualms.

“You just rode here. From central camp. After leading the formation all day. Just sit down and let me do it. You’d probably do it wrong, anyway.” He spits.

In the end, Erwin does have to help him. Levi’s arms aren’t long enough to hold the material down against the wind, so Erwin stands like a damn blockade, sheltering him while he hammers the pegs into cracks in the rock, drops other rocks on top of them to keep them secure, straps the opening down. They work in sullen silence, the mood too grim for chat, for lightness, for any more information to be exchanged. Levi lights the gas lamp and pokes his head inside. It’s even smaller than he expected.

He kicks off his boots and pants and takes off his coat, using it as a cover as he crams himself into the corner, tucking his legs up against his chest, taking up as little room as possible. Erwin barely fits in the tent, so hangs half out of it as he unrolls his sleep mat. The sound of his belt unbuckling is sharp, pointed, distracting, in the small space. He strips to his vest, tucks his things neatly into his pack, lays out his socks next to Levi’s in the entrance to dry, stretches out under his coat, blinks up at the fabric ceiling. Levi realises only then how intently he has been watching him.

“Shall I turn off the lamp?” He asks Levi.

“Sure.”

The tent goes dark with a hiss. Levi hears him move back to his position, lying on his back, his hand on his stomach.

“Won’t you cramp up, sleeping like that?” Erwin asks.

“No. I sleep like this all the time.”

“Alright.” He says dismissively, and it sounds as if he turns over to face the other wall. He sighs out through his nose, and then goes quiet. 

It’s too warm with his coat on. Levi kicks it off, huffs into the silent air, rearranges his limbs, drifts off leaning against the taught back wall of the tent. The whole arrangement is uncomfortable, but exhaustion wins out. He drifts too close to the surface of sleep to dream. 

He jolts awake at dawn with almost mechanical precision. The tent is lit with the sunrise. He has slid down during the night so now he is curled up on the floor, like an abandoned kitten. Pathetic. 

He rubs his eyes, cracks his neck, looks over at his new bunkmate. Erwin has turned to face him in the night. He sleeps with his head cushioned on his hand, his elbow bent in front of his face. It makes his bicep look bigger than usual. His expression is impassive, not-quite-peaceful, with a faint, worried tug between his eyebrows that makes him look stern. He breathes deeply through his nose. Levi has never seen him sleep before. His hair falls soft over his forehead. 

Bastard. It’s dawn. Aren’t you supposed to be gone?

He must be tired enough to sleep through the sunrise. He must be exhausted. Levi watches the way the material of his vest goes taught over his pecs as he breathes, the way his pale eyelashes look darker against the skin of his cheeks. He is big and warm, over there on the other side of the tent, completely at ease around Levi. Levi thinks about how ridiculous he must look, coiled up like some weak, ill thing, backing himself into a corner, preparing for an attack, before remembering that he doesn’t care what people think. Erwin’s so bold, so confident. He’s not afraid of sleeping with Levi beside him. The thought of that open vulnerability probably didn’t even cross his mind.

Levi had better wake him. He watches the rise and fall of his coat over his stomach. Erwin is curled inward slightly so there is a vacant space against his chest, bracketed by his thighs and arms, like a cave. His mother used to sleep on her side like that, so that Levi could nestle against her, where it is safe and close and warm. Half-delirious, he wonders if he would fit in the space Erwin’s body leaves. He’s bigger than Levi’s mother, but Levi is bigger now himself. It might feel nice, against the strong bulk of his chest. It might feel awful; like he’s caged-in, controlled. Erwin might squeeze the life from him.

He gets to his knees and crawls over, poking his captain unceremoniously in the shoulder with one sharp fingertip. The crease between his brows grows.

“Get up, Blondie.” Levi says, at a normal pitch, shattering the quiet hush of the night.

“Mn.” Erwin murmurs. He stirs. Levi sees him swallow. Up this close, he doesn’t even smell too bad. How is that possible?

“C’mon, you should have left already.” 

Erwin opens his eyes, and awareness comes to him quickly, then, with something like alarm, at the sight of Levi leaning over him, prodding him awake with visible irritation.

“Oh, Levi. Have I overslept?”

“Yes. They’ll miss you in central camp. Hurry up, captain.” He drawls, slinking back to his corner, watching with sadistic delight as Erwin gathers himself together.

“Ah. Thank you.” He says. His voice is thick. He sits up and drags his fingers through his hair, blinks the bleariness from his eyes, rights his vest where it had slipped to one side. He still looks a little out of it. It’s such a difference from his usual persona, his unshakeable stature, that Levi feels a shock of what he might call endearment, followed by quite a lot of mockery, followed quickly by annoyance that he’s still here, in his space.

He wonders what might have happened if he let him sleep longer. Maybe he’d be late to report to Shadis, and then late to meet the squad afterwards. He’d have to explain - Levi let me sleep for too long in our tent. Perhaps Levi should have woken him up more gently, at the risk of missing him flailing. Perhaps in this state, drowsy and not-quite-awake, Erwin wouldn’t be such a stick in the mud. Perhaps he’d be easy, like he is with Mike, or playful like he is with Hange. Levi thinks idly about reaching over and pressing his palm between Erwin’s legs, just to see what he’d do.

He dresses silently and efficiently, and Levi just watches, openly, with vague interest. Erwin seems...awkward. Like he has never been before. It’s as if he’s on the back foot now Levi has had to wake him.

“I’ll see you back here in three hours with Keiji, Lauda and Margot. Make sure everyone’s ready.” He says, lifting the tent flap up and letting in the sun. His hair is still a little out of place. Levi doesn’t want to point it out, doesn’t want to watch him fuss more, but also doesn’t want to fix it himself, so he keeps quiet and just nods instead.

“Thank you for waking me.” He says firmly, striding out into the morning. Levi hears him drop off the rocks and onto the grass with a squelch, hears him tacking up his horse, hears him mount and gallop off.

He gets up, waits another hour or so, and rouses the others, ignoring the bags under Samuel’s eyes, the ticking tension in one of Julien’s squad, who lost everyone on Day One. He checks on the titans - docile, dopey, trying to climb the cliffs with little success. There are many more this morning, so they’ll have to take the long route, but Erwin planned for that. He eventually arrives back, when the sun is fully up and the rain clouds scatter from it, looking perfect and determined, not even getting off his horse to address them. He has Keiji, Lauda, and Margot in tow.

“My squad, stick with me. The rest of you, reconvene at your meet points and join your squad leader. Today we press on to the outpost location. Have courage, and good luck.” He says simply, from his chest. He sleeps with his cheek against his palm, like a child might, Levi thinks, staring up at him.

Levi rinses his mouth out with water, spits off the cliff, scratches at his hair, feels the swell of the bump on his head, probes it until his eyes water. Since it isn’t currently raining, he takes his coat off and decides to ride in just his shirt, in an attempt to get some fresh air against his skin. The others seem happy to be reunited, but there’s no mistaking the gap on the bottom right where Yenna used to be. Margot hugs Hallie when she sees her. Levi averts his eyes.

There are more titans on this final stretch, but it is much less daunting to fight them. Erwin, with all his stupid nonsense words and insane conviction, does maybe have a point. Intercepting and exterminatings the titans in the formation they’ve been drilling for months is second-nature. Standard titans swing stupidly at them in the air and they are quick, efficient, almost elegant at dispatching them. Levi will also admit, begrudgingly, that it helps not to have to do everything himself. He’s less tired this way. His blades last longer.

Slotting into the status quo like a real soldier, huh? He can practically hear Kenny’s sneer. All it took was three meals a day, some light scolding and a grope from your captain, and you just rolled over, like a good little mutt.

It isn’t about his pride out here, or even really his own survival. He acts on instinct. He kills for a purpose too great to fully grasp and too simple to even consider. The titans are in their way, the titans want to eat them, and so he must kill them first. There is pride to be found in that, perhaps. In killing something so blandly, blatantly evil. 

He’s sick with the steam when they finally crest the hill. Erwin barely got his blades out; he has fine-tuned his squad to deliver the killing blow on his behalf. He kept his hands clean. It’s only when they’re out of immediate danger, peering out at the expanse of land stretched to the horizon from the vantage point of the ruined castle on the hill, that Levi notices he’s wearing his cloak again.

“Well done.” Erwin says: simple words full of value. Hallie looks proud. Keiji slaps Samuel on the back. Already their transient existence shifts and spills to fill the space left by Yenna. 

They regroup. It’s a slow process and Levi is irritable. He wants to wash, and to rest. He forces himself to eat but isn’t hungry; more like drunk off that terror-tension he sometimes gets, fizzing through his veins, making his temples throb and his eyes water with the effort of vigilance. He sometimes has trouble winding down after long periods of being on high alert, and now isn’t the time for winding down, now is the time to do as he’s told like a good boy and carry this and stand there and check with them and see to this and report that. He is off his horse and on his feet for another two hours, fulfilling Erwin’s requests. Shadis sits glumly in the top room, high up the tower, the roof long gone, in open view with an oilskin stretched over him as a makeshift ceiling. Levi gets close to him once, and can see he isn’t in a good way. He must have seen something bad on this last leg to push the final glimmer out of his eyes. Levi wishes he would just give it up already and let Erwin take over, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, so he plows on numbly, grunting orders and snapping at anyone who gets too close, even when he just asked Levi to bring him a report on the rear guard.

His legs ache and there are blisters on his toes from these fucking boots. There are several long horse troughs in the stables and before the right flank gets in he strips to his underwear and dunks himself in the furthermost one, far from the horses, filled with ice-cold rainwater. It leaves him blue and shivering, but he feels a little better. The lump on his head has gone down. His eyelids are like lead. 

Hange gets in at some point and greets him with a tired warmth that he appreciates more for how out-of-place it is, coming from them. They retreat to the corner of the central hall - a huge, communal room they’re using as the hub of the base, with its in-tact vaulted ceiling and thick walls - and pull out their notebook. They’re scribbling furiously for about an hour. At one point when Levi re-enters on another errand, he catches sight of them sighing in frustration, furiously brushing their unkempt hair out of their eyes. They clearly have enough of it, and lean forward, grab a blade from their holster, discarded beside them, and slice off their ponytail. The clump of matted hair is dropped unceremoniously onto the floor, they tuck the now much shorter remaining strands into the strap of their riding glasses, and carry on as before. Levi snorts in amusement. Weirdo.

Mike appears. It’s been a while since Levi saw him. He’s with the Rear Right, and they look a little worse for wear. He sits down heavily next to Levi, lighting a cigarette, which makes Levi’s nose wrinkle with distaste. 

“Didn’t know you smoke.” He says coldly.

Mike blows out a concentrated stream of smoke, watches it drift up into the air. There is a constant, light drizzle today, like they’re sitting in a cloud. It gets under all of Levi’s clothes and sits cold and damp against his skin.

“Don’t really. Things are different on expeditions.” Mike mumbles around his cigarette. His posture is relaxed, sitting at the edge of this ancient courtyard, watching the hurried, quiet rush of activity around him.

“You lose anyone?” He asks Levi.

“Mn. One. Yenna.”

Mike clicks his tongue, shakes his head. His hair is damp. It falls into his eyes.

“Shame, that. I liked her.” They could be discussing a girl that didn’t want to come to bed with him, for all the passion his mourning shows. Levi understands.

“You?”

“Yeah. A few. Gelt, Lida, Corros. Good deaths. Titans were bad at the back. One son of a bitch chased us for ten miles. Anja lost an arm.”

Levi grunts in what he hopes comes across as sympathy. He can’t remember ever having had a friendly talk with Mike before. He dislikes the smell of smoke, shifts away from Mike where they sit side-by-side on a crumbling stone wall. Mike notices, blows his smoke downwind instead, out of Levi’s face.

Losing an arm is not good. It’s not as much of a death sentence as a leg, but you can’t use ODM gear easily with only one hand. This woman will be reliant on her squad to get her back to safety, if an infection doesn’t take her first. He wonders if the rookie, the one without a foot, is still alive.

“Where’s Erwin?” Mike asks.

“Who knows. Grain stores, last I saw him.”

Mike kicks at a pebble, takes another drag. He smells. Levi wants to tell him about the horse trough before realising his horse is probably currently drinking from it. The washrooms will be set up tomorrow. It’s one benefit of the rain that they’re not short of water.

They sit in companionable silence. Levi staring at his boots, eyes unfocused, Mike smoking, sucking his teeth, flicking the hair out of his eyes. He’s even more closed off than Erwin at times like this, even though Levi’s seen his sense of humour, the way his whole body moves when he laughs, the easy charm that gets the girls all sweet and simpery. Levi’s never been good at that; at making people like him. Mike’s gruff and angry-looking, too, so how does he do it?

“Ok.” Mike says eventually, dropping his butt, kicking it out against the cobbles. He stands, unfolding himself, and he’s taller than Erwin, making Levi feel like a fucking toddler, staring up at Wall Maria. “See you.” He says, and ambles off. 

Levi begrudgingly gets back to work. This day is all set-up; unloading carts, building shelters, assembling what little furniture they could bring, filling the underground stores with as much long-lasting food as they can. Levi carries stocks of blades and canisters of gas to and from the East Basement for most of the afternoon, even as it rains again, thinks that perhaps he’s never been more miserable; a lackey for the Survey Corps. And then he remembers the room he was born in, the way Kenny smiled like the edge of a blade, the taste of rat and rot and the gnawing hunger, the sickness, the degradation, and changes his mind. He can live with this. He’s survived worse. At least he’s being useful.

Then it is his turn on watch. The forest below and towers circling the castle are good places to couch and keep an eye on titan numbers. The only way up the hill to the castle is a winding path that they filed through one horse at a time; too small for any titans that could do serious damage, but still the lookouts have already left several two-meter corpses steaming between the rocks. The rest of the hill has drops steep enough to level ground that the titans can’t reach the settlement. It’s a good stronghold, Levi must admit, and the best chance they have of establishing a permanent base outside the Walls. Its weakness is one side, the South, where most of the titans seem to come from. The drop is shallow enough there that a particularly tall abnormal could feasibly climb it. Levi perches in the ruins of a tower on this side and watches the titans gather below. They’re small, for the time being, reaching mindlessly upwards, attracted by all the people and activity. It’s not a case of if, but rather when, and how much chaos they manage to cause before they’re all taken out. 

It’s an uneventful evening. Levi gets used to the thumping and grunting from below, and watches the sunset instead. With all of the rainclouds for it to catch on, the light turns pink and orange, like fire, like a fever, pinching the sky shut for the day. Levi stares at it for hours, not-quite-present, until the beauty of it settles somewhere permanent in his chest. Dying for this wouldn’t be so bad. Dying for the sky wouldn’t be so bad.

He’s relieved by a boy he doesn’t know, except that he’s hard of hearing, and so Levi just waves his agreement at him and descends the tower using his gear, his legs slightly numb from sitting still for hours. He hears his back click as he straightens up, and heads for the makeshift mess. He’s starving. He heard a rumour the food would be hot tonight.

It is. It is stew: tasting of nothing, mostly comprised of root vegetables and water, but it does the job. He’s warm on the inside, now, and the pain in his stomach has stopped. It works its magic on the others too; the room steadily fills with conversation, with laughter, even - hopeless happiness at being alive another day out here, perhaps. People aren’t sitting in their squads, but mixing and mingling. Levi takes his dinner alone, and leaves once he’s done. 

He hasn’t seen Erwin all day, so decides to look for him on the meagre pretence of final orders. He isn’t in the grain store, and Sells says he hasn’t been assigned to a watch, but suggests that Levi check the central tower. The rooms there have been turned into barracks. Erwin will be on the fifth floor, for officers. He’s probably working. Levi has no trouble believing that. 

The climb is tough on his sore thighs. The windows have long since fallen out, so the cold wind whistles through the still-standing structure, getting at Levi’s bones. He feels like something long-dead, walking these corridors, climbing these stairs, cold and tense and frowning; a ghost haunting the halls. He probably looks like one too; pale and scrawny with his sunken eyes and downturned lips. He opens every door to the rooms on the fifth floor, barely apologising for interrupting if there is another squad leader in there, until he finds Erwin, hunched on a crate, peering at the papers he has spread over another one. 

Levi enters wordlessly, and Erwin looks up, relaxes a little, says nothing, goes back to reading. There is unlit kindling in the old fireplace. Levi bends to set it alight, pushing the wood into a point with his hands, getting splinters for his trouble. 

“Thank you.” Erwin says, when the warm glow of the fire fills the room. Ever polite, even when deep in thought. Take a damn day off, Smith.

“Need anything?” Levi asks, arms crossed, hip cocked, looking impassive. Erwin takes a while to answer.

“No.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Tch.” Levi rolls his eyes. “You must be hungry.”

“A little.”

“Well I’m not fetching you food. I’m not a servant.”

Erwin says nothing, eyes roaming over one sheet before him. Levi squints at it, but can’t read the terrible handwriting upside-down. It’s Shadis’, he thinks. Erwin flicks to a different sheet, double checks what is written there. Levi feels unwelcome.

“Do you need something from me, Levi?” Erwin says, without looking up. 

“No.” Levi replies. 

“Ok.” It sounds final, dismissive. He doesn’t want Levi here. Levi is distracting him from his noble, important work. Irritation flares up, but embarrassment washes it away.

“Alright. Bye then.” Levi says, his tone unfriendly, but he isn’t even sure Erwin picks up on it, leafing through more pages with careful intensity.

He doesn’t know why he even bothered with Erwin. He’s ready to drop, and being around Erwin tends to set him on edge. He trudges down to the hall to collect his pack and then back up two flights of stairs to find an empty room to sleep in. Uwe is hovering in the corridor, looking like he wants to rest too, but Levi gives him a cold enough glance that he doesn’t attempt to bunk down with him. He shuts the door. He will likely not have the luxury of this room to himself, but it’s early yet and people have watches and duties at staggered intervals, so he might be granted a few hours of peace. He curls up against the corner of the wall, facing the door, sleep mat rolled up and propped behind his lower back like a cushion. He takes his boots off to stop them rubbing, doesn’t bother to light a fire, and succumbs to the exhaustion. 

He must sleep for an hour or so, before the sound of someone entering causes him to start silently awake. Years of watching his back in the Underground have imbued in him the ability to go from asleep to alert in seconds. The door closes behind the figure. They are carrying a lamp, which Levi is just about to hiss at them to turn off before he realises that the figure is Erwin.

“What do you want?” He snaps. Now that he’s finished his work he just presumes to come and find Levi, like he’s at his beck and call, like he can just wake him up and bother him when he gets bored.

He’s your squad leader. You will do what he tells you, that traitorous voice in the back of Levi’s head says. 

Erwin says nothing, just walks over to him. The light of the lamp makes him look angrier than he probably is because of those stupid eyebrows, the severe slash of his cheeks. He seems strange, like he’s sleep walking, eyes even but unfocused. Levi draws his legs up closer to his chest and glares at him.

Erwin blinks slowly. He must be delirious with exhaustion. Levi opens his mouth to call his name, more concerned now than angry, but the word doesn’t come. Erwin’s gaze draws over Levi’s body, crouched in the corner like he’s afraid of him, and stops on his socks, sticking out from his coat-turned-blanket. Levi looks, too. He has bled through them.

Erwin lowers himself to the cold, damp floor, placing the lamp beside him. He opens Levi’s pack with casual confidence, like Levi isn’t even there, rummages around until he finds his water, his bandages. 

“What - “

Levi’s question dissolves into the air. His breathing deepens and he feels suddenly safe, unhurried, almost lethargic. Erwin’s frowning slightly, like he’s struggling to add up some numbers or something, and he takes Levi’s left foot gently - so gently - it makes Levi twitch and tense up. 

He peels off his sock. It isn’t pretty: the boots have rubbed him raw in two spots on either side of his toes. Erwin touches him on his heel to feel for blisters there. He presses the pad of his thumb against the arch of Levi’s foot and Levi flinches. It tickles. 

Erwin is very careful with the water. Instead of just pouring it onto the sores he drops some onto the corner of a bandage and dabs the blood away like that. It stings. The skin is raw and irritated. When the blood has gone, it almost looks worse. They’ll be a bitch to get back into his shoes tomorrow. He winces as Erwin cleans them. The warmth of his breath on Levi’s foot is surprisingly welcome. 

When he’s satisfied, he wraps a few layers of bandage over the blisters and ties a small, flat knot in the crease of his toes. He moves to the other foot and repeats the process. And Levi just... lets him. Like last time. Like the first time. Erwin moves to touch him, to slip into his space and make him feel hot and confused, for reasons beyond Levi’s understanding, and Levi just sits there like a mute idiot and lets him, goes pliant and dizzy under his hands.

It feels better, wrapped and clean. Levi had been too busy to stop and dress the sores himself, but there is a relief to knowing it’s taken care of. He wonders how long the bandages will last, if they’ll make the rubbing better, why he didn’t notice he was bleeding through his socks. Erwin lowers his foot to the ground, puts his sock back on. The blood is drying sticky, but Levi doesn’t have spares, yet. 

Erwin kneels there, in front of him, looking at his socks for a few long moments, before murmuring “You should have said that your boots didn’t fit.”

“I…” I didn’t want to make a fuss. Of course they don’t fit. I’m smaller than I should be. I’ve never had boots that fit. “Sorry.” He settles on, small and stupid. What am I apologising for?!

Erwin seems to think the same thing. He frowns again, gives Levi’s ankle a poignant squeeze, stands up, and leaves without another word. Levi pulls his coat closer to him.

He can’t stand this hot and cold treatment, has never been good at interpersonal intricacies, doesn’t have the energy to figure out what Erwin wants and so just settles on being pissed off with him instead. He gets these...pockets of tenderness from him, in amongst all the professionalism, the distant, detached respect. He’s a busy man, sure, an important man, but Levi’s getting whiplash from his displays of affection and displays of disinterest. He thought they’d moved past that. 

He’s not even sure if he wants them, yet. The intimacy is rewarding, the respect is mutual, and the sex was fantastic, but tenderness? Affection? Neither of them need it. There’s no space for it and it sets Levi on edge. Erwin should be good at this, he considers, should be better at fucking without feeling, at separating business from pleasure, or at least blending the two together a little better. Then again, the women of the interior only get one Erwin, the soft one, and not the cold, pragmatic one. Levi gets both. Levi has no choice but to have both, he supposes, if he wants either. He sighs, prods at the bandages under his socks, feels reluctantly grateful for them. 

If Erwin did want to give him affection, then he’d have to commit to it. Levi can’t stand the fucking around, the cowardice in Erwin’s rush and retreat approach. He needs to make up his damn mind, and whatever he settles on, Levi will follow, of course, as he worries he always will.

In the half-conscious space between sleeping and waking, he allows himself to think of the scar under Erwin’s nose, the crease between his brows, the shine on his eyes when Levi crawled on top of him on the floor of his room. These thoughts don’t fit out there, in that big empty graveyard, but they survive perhaps in here, this room Levi is curled in, unbroken by conversation, in a spare moment of humanity. The snatches in between will do, if they must, if they demand to be felt. For now, at least.

Chapter Text

It could have been worse. Half of the right spotters hadn’t even made it to the river, but it could have been worse. Julien was a valuable asset. He had seven years of experience and an almost encyclopedic knowledge of how the ODM gear worked, like he constructed the complicated mechanism himself. He was excellent at overcoming his fear. He put too much salt on his eggs. He was taken out with his squad within the first four hours. They couldn’t recover his body, but it could have been worse.

Front left flank - two out of twenty - not an ideal figure but it could have been worse. Gelgar survived. The other, Greta, got lucky. Everyone else died. Gelgar arrived in a terrified state of mania. There was grass and blood on his clothes. He could hardly get out what happened and the medics had given him some liquor to stop the shaking. They would have to train a whole new batch of spotters, but it could have been worse.

Then the attack on the rear. Hmm. Not pretty, according to Mike. Chased for miles, practically ran the horses down. Three of their most precious stallions will never be the same. Valuable soldiers lost - good people, noble and loyal and brave - and that transfer from the Garrison, Anja, lost her arm. He visited her in their ‘medical wing’; a slightly more sheltered corner of the castle ruins. She is caught in a fever. The blood has stopped but the heat in her veins soars. She may never fight again, may not even make it back, but it could have been worse. 

They’ve been here a week now. Erwin has slept for approximately 47 hours in total. He eats as much as he can stomach and drinks a near constant stream of tea, and then, when the tea starts to run out, he switches to boiled water. He works until he’s covered in ink and papercuts. He must meet every foot soldier face-to-face at least once, with the constant reshuffling to make up for casualties, the ever-present need to adapt and improvise as the titans keep coming. On Day Six, the lookout in the South Tower counts 32 titans, all congregated at the foot of the cliffs. Shadis wants the number to stay below thirty, so when another six arrive that evening, the lookouts are forced to engage. They wrangle the number down to 25 until they are given the order to withdraw. They use ten canisters of gas just doing this. Shadis looks even grimmer at the news, even though no one was lost. 

He is not in a good way, and Erwin is concerned that it may be lowering morale. He doesn’t speak to anyone outside of Erwin, Gershin and Mike, and never leaves his tower. His orders are all over the place, and when Erwin offers alternative suggestions, he loses his temper, which means Erwin has to waste his time, standing still and impassive while Shadis screams at him. It’s the pressure of a mission this size, Erwin knows, the ever-increasing death toll, the ever-increasing pressure on supplies. He’s good for a day excursion, but nothing this big, this serious, this important if it goes well and this disastrous if it goes wrong. The more mistakes he makes, the more Erwin has to correct him, the more frustrated he gets, and the more mistakes he makes. The cycle makes Erwin weary and dispassionate. He loses energy by the day, but it could be worse.

Fifty crates moved to South-West. Change of lookout rotation - stagger to attract less attention. Dungeons not dry enough for crypt. Funeral tomorrow - mass pyre? Rainfall contingency: check upstream for spoiling then establish temporary aqueduct. Get new boots for Levi. Speak with Hange regarding experiments. Put them on lookout rotation with Moblit...too suspicious? Shadis won’t notice. Decrease vegetable ration. Mandatory gear check tomorrow morning. 

He’s losing his mind but it could be worse.

When he does sleep on Day Five he has a dream about a noblewoman he used to visit before she moved too far North to make it worth his while. She tells him what she wants and then pushes him onto her bed, but he gets tangled in the gossamer curtains that frame it, and suddenly he is falling, the fabric knotted around his neck, the sound of rain and thunder nearly deafening him. He wakes with a start, with that swooping sensation in his stomach, his body jumping to protect itself from the fall. 

And the weather is miserable. It’s good for some things, just as Erwin predicted: mud means titans leave tracks, get stuck in it where they churn it up in their masses. Cooler weather is better for lots of strenuous activity, and collecting rain means they are very unlikely to run out of water. It doesn’t lift people’s mood, though. The cold creeps in through the cracks between stones in the old castle, rain drips through ceilings and collects in pools on the ground, the wind whines through the corridors, setting Erwin’s teeth on edge. It is more difficult than ever, in situations like this, to remember why he does this voluntarily.

The discomfort is nothing compared to the victory, however. It is a limp and uninspiring victory, the very least they could have hoped for, but it is a victory nonetheless. They are outside the Walls, in enemy territory, and they have been here a week, and the fortifications hold strong. He thinks perhaps he expected to have been eaten by now, but also, somewhere, he was probably hoping to find something out here more interesting; a secret, a clue to the greater state of the world, but alas all they found was a crumbling fort and lots and lots of titans, just as expected. It was a foolish hope, he knows, but he cannot deny its potency. It could have gone better, but it could have gone worse.

This is what he is made for: strategy, war, difficult decisions and constant disappointment. The whip of a cold wind, the stinging taste of adrenaline on the roof of his mouth, the cold dismay of death and sick thrill of turning a crippling loss into a lukewarm win. He’s meant for violence and cunning. He’s been causing death and suffering since he was a boy. It is a wonder that he can play the part of a lover well enough to satisfy the women he needed to satisfy. There’s no softness in him, nothing tender or warm. It has been stripped from him, wrung out of him, and suffocated at the root. How can a man with so much blood on his hands use them to soothe and please? It is a mystery to him, but in the end he wasn’t very good at it after all. He thinks of it as the past. He cannot go back to that life. It is beginning to fracture the delicate structure of what is left of his sanity and soul.

And Levi, poor Levi, with his vulgar words and his haunted eyes. He has violence in his fingertips, too, but something smooth and soft and utterly unkillable in his core, and that is why he cares. That is why he can care. That is why he thinks Erwin is despicable; because he cannot. Beautiful Levi, who Erwin thinks of with the same terrified, guilty glee that he got from sneaking treats when his father’s back was turned, tasting the sweetness under the table, before he had finished his homework. It was against the rules, foolish, and led inevitably to punishment, but in the moment it was so tempting and delightful that it was worth the fallout. Erwin’s moment of weakness will rot his teeth.

One of his many moments of weakness, that is. Levi was right: Erwin started this. He let it carry on. He tried to draw away, draw up into his rank, and still all it took was one casual suggestion from Levi and he snapped his own leash. Stupid. I have dragged him into this. I have used him for my own amusement and my duty will break the trust we have fought hard to establish. All because I had to know…

He isn’t to think on it. He is built for violence. Levi does not deserve the destruction.

“Smith. The Commander wants to see you.” Gershin’s voice halts him where he sits and thinks, hand gripping his pencil too tightly. 

“Understood.” Erwin says, trying not to sigh.

The Commander’s room has a more substantial roof, now, but why he insists on being up here at the top of the building, exposed to the elements, watching the titans gather nearly all hours of the day, is beyond Erwin. He stands to attention, hands folded behind his back, and waits for instructions. Shadis looks sour.

“Have we made further progress on the other gate?”

“Yes, sir. Roderik says it will be finished in three days.”

“Can’t it go quicker?”

“We are having to dig through rock, sir, and we are not trained as builders.”

“And why not?”

“There was no time, sir.” You actioned the expedition the second the rain started. 

“Quite the oversight.” Shadis says scathingly, as if it is Erwin’s fault. 

“I apologise, sir, I should have foreseen this.”

“You should have. You seem to foresee everything else.” He says bitterly.

If Erwin is honest, he hasn't give much thought to the need for another gate; an alternative route to deploy the horses from that isn’t the narrow, winding path up to the castle that only permits one person to pass through at a time. It is being built, as planned, and will take time for men to wield pickaxes instead of blades. Besides, they are secure enough in the base at the moment. They will get the gate done now that the difficult part is over, it just might take longer than Shadis had hoped.

“Shall I add more men to the duty rota, sir?”

“You think that’s wise?”

“Instead of lessening resting time, we could take some men off lookout duty.”

“No.” Shadis says. Erwin notices his hand shaking a little as he holds his pen; from exhaustion, fear or drink he can’t be sure. “Lookouts stay where they are.”

“We cannot overwork the troops, sir. Morale will drop, and should an attack occur we will be more vulnerable if they are tired.”

“If we are attacked, the escape route will need to be secured. That is our priority. And we can’t lose eyes on the ground.”

“Eyes work better well-rested, sir.”

“You’re arguing with me again, Smith.” He snaps. He stands from his chair. Erwin blinks placidly at him.

“I’m offering an alternative.”

“Questioning me.” Shadis mutters, shoving his chair under his desk. The wind picks up, spilling through the gaps beneath the makeshift roof. Shadis slams a ledger down over loose sheets of paper to stop them blowing away.

“You forget where we are? This is not a place for lying around, we have to be constantly alert. We need that escape route. As soon as possible.”

“I will sort it out, sir.”

“Good.”

“Is there anything else?”

“What have you been doing today?”

Erwin frowns. “I have been in my rooms most of today, sir, making contingency plans for the route back.”

Shadis rubs his eyes, his thinning hair. “You haven’t been with Zacharias?”

“No, sir. He has been leading the watch party since the morning.”

“Good. Alright. Good.” He scratches his nose, glances over at the Western sky, beginning to glow orange with the afternoon sun. He is not a subtle man, not after all these years. Erwin can read his concerns in the lines of his face: he is paranoid about mutiny, thinking that the squad leaders will tire of his incompetence and overthrow him, here in the field, away from official protocol and his military support. The thought is a foolish one, a neurotic one. An expedition this dangerous needs strong, unquestioned authority in order for them all to survive, not a frustration-fuelled rebellion and internal restructuring when they’re all so on-edge already.

“I want the escape route done, Smith. I don’t care how tired they are.”

“Understood, sir.” Erwin says calmly, nodding to him, climbing back down the hatch and onto the spiral staircase. 

Erwin need not mutiny. All Erwin needs to do is survive this mission. Erwin has dined with enough nobles to know Shadis is on the way out, the brass looking for an excuse to ask him to step down, and if the mission is a failure, he will take the blame, and if it is a success, it will be as a result of Erwin’s formation being officially implemented. His time is coming, he can feel it, there is no need to charge in, guns blazing, and set the place alight to get something that is inevitable anyway.

When Erwin is commander, he will not put his squad leaders in the line of fire inside the Walls. When he is commander, none of his subordinates will be responsible for the survival of the Corps, none of them will have to resort to the things he has had to do in order to fund expeditions. No one will sell themselves on his orders, or under his guidance. It is enough to be ready to die for the cause without it taking your living moments, too.

He does a reevaluation of the workload distribution. He decides to assign himself some watches, despite Shadis exempting him for tactical reasons, in order to free up enough labour to speed up the digging of the deployment gate. It will be another few days of carving out the rock and then a matter of hours for several practised hands to assemble the equipment to lower horses, and a gate/ramp to reach the ground. Three days. He could make it two, maybe, if some of the stronger men were willing to work for longer. He will have to ask them personally, to let them know he is indebted. Compromise. He will not let men go without rest; it is a death sentence.

The men come out of the woodwork, of course. He’s nothing without his ability to persuade, after all, and by sunset he has five people willing to extend their shift to get the gate done. Erwin makes a note to commend them personally to Shadis, and allows them extra rations at dinner. After the matter is dealt with, he goes to find Hange, expecting that they will be in the East lookout tower, where he has surreptitiously assigned them, meaning they can keep their notes and tools behind the loose bricks and avoid any official scrutiny. 

They are tense when Erwin emerges onto the flat platform at the top of the tower, twiddling a pen idly, looking very shifty, if Erwin is honest. When they see it is him, they instantly relax, slipping another book from under their cloak.

“It’s just you.”

“It’s just me.”

“You look like shit, Erwin.”

“You don’t look much better.”

“At least I’m sleeping and eating properly. If your face gets any thinner we could use your cheeks to kill titans.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Yes, I am exaggerating.” They say lightly, sing-song, turning back to the edge of the tower, looking down at the titans below. Erwin sees that one of them is regenerating an ear.

“How is it going, Hange?”

“It is fascinating, Erwin.” Hange says, in almost the exact tone Erwin expected them to say it.

“You have been slicing off body parts this evening?”

“Yes! I wanted to get a look at their sensory organs. The structure of their eyes and ears seems to be almost identical to that of a human, just on a bigger scale. Assuming they have a brain, and it connects to their eyes and ears the way ours do, they probably see and hear like humans! But, obviously, some titans have rather exceptional hearing, and some can only see people when they are right in front of them and moving about. So, perhaps like people, some have stronger senses. I can’t find anything physical to show for it yet - the damn things keep dissolving, of course - and it’s difficult to test when the subjects aren’t contained, but I think with closer observation I might be able to discern if these variations on perception are related at all to height class.”

Erwin nods, impressed. “That would be very interesting. I am impressed. Are you taking care of yourself, and Moblit?”

“Yes, of course, I wouldn’t let Moblit anywhere near.” They knock their knuckles against the canister of their gear, and it echoes dully: almost full. “I am doing what you said, and not getting too close. To get the ear, I picked a smaller one and was in and out in a matter of seconds.”

There are eight of them, currently, clawing at the cliff face. Erwin used to look into their empty eyes and feel rage, and then terror, but now he just feels nothing; a lingering hollowness that tastes vaguely of resentment. 

“In two days time, you and Moblit are both on watch again overnight. I will assign him to this tower. That is the time to test your theory about sunlight affecting their vitality. If your results are conclusive enough, I will accept it as fact, and in future will factor it into expeditions.” He speaks the words evenly, quietly, watching the glitter grow in Hange’s wide brown eyes. They grin at him, standing up from their perch, wrapping their arms around his shoulders and yanking him down into a rather forceful embrace.

“Thank you, Erwin. I won’t let you down.” They say, into his ear. They give him a squeeze, and Erwin must be tired, because he feels like he wants to fall into it, ask them to hold on a little longer, even though they smell rather ripe, even though their grip is perhaps on the wrong side of a wrestling hold. 

He pats them on the back a little awkwardly and they beam at him as they pull away. As he leaves them to their watch, he finds that they have significantly improved his mood.

000

He has a spare few hours that evening, and asks Nanaba to cut his hair. It is growing too long, dropping over his eyebrows, and so she trims it back and clips his undercut short again. Hange is right; he does look tired. But at least he looks neat, now. The makeshift bathhouse leaves a lot to be desired: mostly it is just pouring cold rainwater over yourself for as long as you can bear it. He gets more than his fair share at dinner: someone must have noticed the meals he has skipped and told those on cooking duty. He accepts it without comment and eats mechanically, efficiently, returning to his room with a fistful of candles and a long night ahead of him.

Levi enters without knocking, again, at around the same time as four days ago, and glares at him in the low light. He looks paler than usual, but still strong. He crosses his arms and Erwin thinks perhaps he is in for a scolding, but he just marches across the room, past Gershin’s temporary desk (which he has used twice since they arrived), and drops to his knees in front of the fireplace. He’s making a fire again. Erwin notices that he removes several of the logs before he starts, propping a few up against each other over the kindling, like you would a campfire. It means the fire is small and slow to catch, but you save fuel. Erwin thinks about how he must have learnt to do that, even when there is no need.

“Thank you.” Erwin says.

“You’ll ruin your eyes reading in the dark. Isn’t that what people say?”

Erwin rubs his eyelids. “That is what people say, but generally people who expect to reach an old age.”

Levi looks unimpressed. He kicks a log into place against the wall delinquently. 

“How are you, Levi?”

“Fine.”

“Nothing to report?”

“No.”

He’s sullen again, unresponsive and distant. Erwin deserves it, he supposes. His mind and his body have different agendas when it comes to Levi, and it cannot be easy for him to adapt to the fluctuation. Erwin would like him to sit with him, to talk in that open and easy way he sometimes does on a good day, watch his eyelids drop as he relaxes. That is a reward for when they are safe behind the Walls once more. Or perhaps he has forfeited the right to that reward entirely. 

“Right.” He says, vapidly. He watches Levi walk to the door. He is doing a good job of not limping. 

“Go to bed.” Levi says, not even looking at Erwin as he leaves. Erwin flicks his eyes to the fire, feeling its warmth seep into the room already, grateful for its small mercy.

000

The next day there is another titan culling, as several 15-meter classes join the writhing mass of stumpy limbs and grabbing hands at the base of the cliffs. Shadis wants the number cut down significantly, and deploys the lookouts after a night shift. Two of them are killed in the fray. Erwin helps to recover what is left of the bodies, with a low-bubbling fury at Shadis’ incompetence. 

That afternoon is the mass funeral. With limited capability to transport corpses back to their families, they have to lay them on pyres and light them in the largest courtyard of the stronghold. It’s treated with traditional solemnity, the atmosphere heavier from the communal exhaustion of being afraid consistently for a week. Erwin stands tall at the front by Shadis, in a closed, still, distant space behind his eyes, feeling the heat of the fire on his face, the smell of burning flesh and greenery used to try to cover it, the weight of these deaths, these names and ranks and faces, settling somewhere above him, somewhere below him.

Levi comes again that night, striding in as if reluctantly following an order, huffing in front of the fireplace, silently stacking the wood and lighting it, saving two logs for tomorrow. Erwin stands this time, reaches into the crate under the window, pulls out a pair of boots, and takes them over to him where he is kneeling on the floor.

“These will hurt less.”

“Whose are they?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Levi looks at them, makes an expression of utter distaste, looks back to the fire, poking it with a stick.

“I don’t want them.”

“Your blisters won’t heal, otherwise. You might get an infection. Take them, that’s an order.”

“I’d rather have my toes drop off.”

“Levi…” Erwin sighs. The exhaustion is back, pressing against his temples, thudding in time with his heartbeat. Levi looks at his face, must take pity on him, because his frown deepens, but he snatches the boots off Erwin.

He stands, scrutinising Erwin with hostility. He probably thinks he is good at hiding his thoughts, and perhaps he is, but it is Erwin’s job to predict what people are thinking. 

“I am fine, Levi.”

Levi sneers, displeased, and stalks off towards the door. 

“I hope you ate all your damn food. No one likes a martyr.” He says, before slamming the door shut on his way out.

The pretence of not caring must be tiring. He must have been watching for Erwin at dinner. He must have spoken to the cook about his portion size. Erwin doesn’t want more food and cold disdain. He wants a stiff drink, a long nap and a decent conversation with Levi. He sighs, rubbing his eyes and deciding to call it a night.

The funeral sets the tone for the next couple of days. On Day Eight, half of the old armory collapses. A member of the Rear Relay Team crushes his foot, and they have to move the supplies they stored there into the main hall. It rains relentlessly for fourteen hours, and everyone is perpetually damp, cold and tired. Erwin tries to make numbers make sense, tries to shape statistics into soldiers, but the anxious tension everywhere makes it difficult to focus. More titans come, Shadis calls for another engagement. They keep coming; slowly, loudly, but surely. The good news is that the defenses are holding, and Erwin tries desperately to focus on how the stronghold is keeping the titans out, and not on how it is trapping them in.

Hange comes to him on the morning of Day Nine, their chipper mood sticking out in a sea of tired, fearful faces. They say they have what they need, and Shadis is none the wiser. They say they have written up their findings with Moblit, and will give them to Erwin that evening, so as not to draw attention to the transaction.

“I will be able to give the matter more thought back inside the Walls. Perhaps it ought to wait.”

“Well, what if you have questions? I might not make it back to answer them!” They say, as if the thought of their imminent death is amusing. 

“Alright. Thank you. Good work, Hange.” He says. Another minor success to add to the small pile. Another tiny step forward to justify the loss of life.

That evening is the same as before. Levi comes and makes a fire, and his presence is a balm for an itch Erwin didn’t know needed scratching. He’s still sullen, but he looks a bit better for his new boots. He doesn’t say much, just grunts when Erwin tells him he has eaten, but before he can get to the door, Erwin breaks. 

“Levi, could you give me your thoughts on this?”

Levi looks, for a second, openly interested, before the impassiveness returns. He stalks over to Erwin’s table and looks at the paper. 

“You crossed the river at the highest point. I think it was here. On the return route, I was considering remapping the formation so everyone crosses a bridge, since the river levels may well be higher, and you weren’t the only one to have trouble. What do you think?”

Levi looks at the plans, scrutinizes them for a moment, frowns. 

“It’s gonna be like…” He gestures with a narrow finger, struggles for the words. “Like, when the funnel isn’t big enough.”

“Bottle-necking?”

“Yeah. That. It’ll be a shit show. If a titan shows up, we'll be easy prey. The horses will panic, we won’t be able to turn back so we'll just sit there and be eaten.” 

“That is why I have suggested staggering the crossing in smaller groups so as to avoid attracting attention. We will split amongst the three bridges, and in groups of ten maximum.”

“Won’t that take a lot more time?”

“Yes. Probably. I don’t see an alternative. We were lucky on the way here that nobody drowned. Shadis’ plans were out-of-date.”

“Well if there is no alternative, why ask me?” 

Levi looks down as Erwin looks up. Erwin lets the reason sit on his face so that Levi can read it. Because, in this moment, I apparently need reassurance.

“There is no alternative.” Levi echoes.

“Not unless we add an extra day to go upstream.”

“Then give the order. We’ll just have to be careful.”

Erwin nods. “Yes. Right.” 

Levi looks tense. Erwin longs to make him loose again.

Erwin cannot show this now, cannot think or feel this now. He feels again like he’s playing the part of a human, like he’s showing too much or too little to be realistic, like he’s forgotten the things he is supposed to say, and how to move like a human should. His emotions come in rushes, unbearable tides that recede as quickly as they appear, like the way a river bursts its banks and then is sucked back into the earth. Authenticity sits uncomfortable and heavy on him. How can he have forgotten how to do it? He was a child, once, and thought and felt as children do. He wishes he could parse the things he feels like he absorbs statistics, could draw them out clear and plain on a map, could indicate to Levi where the issue is and have him see it, understand it, and say ‘there is no alternative’. 

The vulnerable bits of a person are often the defining bits, he thinks, and he has cut his off in order to achieve his goal. He thought only of the process and not the aftermath. As he whittled himself into the shape of a man, he didn’t think to miss his humanity, until it was gone. Until now, sitting with someone who makes him feel something, the words and definitions aren’t enough. 

He would call his obsession with Levi ‘triumph’ as if he has won a victory, or a handicap as if he needs to factor it into his plans, because that arena, the place of war, is all that he knows now. No wonder Levi thought he was being treated like a weapon, like an asset, when Erwin cannot frame their bond in anything other than blood and smoke. It makes him despair, that he has so many words for death and not enough for this precious, painful part of life. 

Levi maybe sees his struggle, maybe chooses not to see, maybe he tires of standing. He moves back to the fire, but instead of kneeling to stoke it, he sits down heavily, legs crossed and pulled up to his chest. Erwin isn’t conscious of rising, of moving, until he sits beside him, his back hunched, feeling like an oversized child; awkward and bulky when Levi is so neat and slender.

They sit side-by-side, watching the flames. Erwin wonders if Levi is thinking about the night of the bonfire, as he is; the heat, the honesty, the aftermath. The warmth on his face melts off his stern expression, like wax down a candle. Levi sighs quietly. It sounds more tired than content. 

Erwin tries to think of how it can come so naturally to him when he is pretending, and yet in this quiet, cold room in the middle of nowhere he cannot think of a single thing to say. He remembers those long, hot nights, wine-smeared and purpose-driven, the right words slipping from his tongue, his limbs moving without instruction. Some mechanical instinct, wrapped in satin, overtook him on those nights, and he didn’t have to think at all. They were planned, precise, important - a battlefield of their own - so perhaps it makes sense that it is second-nature, then. When it is not in service of his goal, when there is no role to perform and no illusion to maintain, when it is his humanity stripped to its bones, with nothing and everything to lose, he chokes on it. He feels naive and foolish.

And Levi is the same, maybe. Erwin glances at him from the corner of his eye: the tension in his jaw, the ire in his dark eyes, his coiled, defensive posture. He doesn’t know what he’s doing either. He has lived a life far worse than Erwin’s; of course this is difficult for him too. The last people Levi cared for were taken from him, under Erwin’s command, and since then Erwin has watched him wrestle with his own desire for acceptance, understanding, intimacy, even. It isn’t fair to make him struggle with this, too, when he deserves assurance and trust and instead Erwin has given him mixed signals and the same touch he bestowed upon those he was using for their money.

They are not meant to be like this, Erwin thinks suddenly, sadly. They are not well-suited to each other. There is nothing inevitable or obvious in their connection. It was forged in horror and hatred, solidified in the dull vacancy of grief. They are ill-aligned, with their coldness and duty, with their reluctance to be exposed and their inability to communicate. They are caught on the barbs of each other, words fighting to get past their teeth but constantly bitten back, and if only one of them at least had the capacity to be open, to reach across enemy lines and acknowledge that there are parts of them that are soft and wanting, and that demand gently but persistently to be seen and felt, then maybe they would be good to each other, for each other. But it is a wasted fancy. They are men of iron will and practiced detachment. They reflect their own insecurities back at each other. They can sit next to each other like this, thinking the same thoughts, without being able to do anything about it. They are a doomed dependency, and perhaps always have been.

And yet…

He cannot help it. Even he doesn’t believe the lie of his impartiality. He has tried but there is no commitment behind his disinterest. He falls into place beside Levi for reasons beyond logic and evaluation. He stares into the fire without blinking, until his eyes sting, and swallows around the lump of dread in his throat.

And yet he’d spin himself a story for the sake of closeness. And yet he’d show Levi the drawings of impossible things in a book that got his father killed. He’d unlock something feral in himself, enough to run Levi down, just to get him to speak to him, to reassure him that he isn’t losing his mind, that Levi isn’t disgusted with him, that Levi wants it too, feels it too, whatever ‘it’ is. Humans are fickle and stupid, and none of this makes any sense to Erwin, who has not ached for something like this before; so pointed and complicated. 

How did it come to this? Wasn’t it only last week that I saw him in the sky? Didn’t he just press a blade to my palm and tell me he came up into the sun solely to kill me?

Erwin opens his hand, stares down at the faint scar across his palm. Levi doesn’t move, but he must be able to see Erwin doing it in his periphery. If anything, his jaw gets tighter, pressing his teeth together. Erwin senses it, as he stares at the little white line. It used to be much bigger, much uglier, much more impressive. He thought he might even have permanent nerve damage. And now you’d glance past it, perhaps, if you were not looking for it. It’s a part of his body, like all his other scars.

It’s a token of their beginning, and now makes Erwin consider the uncrossable space between them, stretching out like the world beyond the Walls. They are Scouts; charging into the unknown is what they do. It isn’t always easy, and it is rarely successful, but they go anyway, yes? They face the fear and go anyway, expecting the worst and yet hoping for the best. Levi doesn’t look like a titan. Erwin is not afraid of him. He isn’t.

Levi sighs again, but this time he heaves it in, and instead of tiredness or contentment, this sounds like defeat. His shoulders lift with it, and as he breathes out, he slips, he falls towards Erwin, like the strength has drained from him. He presses the side of his face against the ledge of Erwin’s shoulder, and sighs again, smaller this time, through his nose. His weight is warm and firm against Erwin’s arm. 

Erwin would like to reassure Levi, to speak words of comfort and alleviate the weight of his responsibility for a while, but he doesn’t know how. To soothe him, to speak to him softly, would ring false in his ears - the words tainted by how many times he has said them disingenuously, to women he felt nothing for, as a means to an end, as convincingly as he could because in order to progress he had to lie. Now they would sound patronising - forced even. There is no comfort that could be offered now that wouldn’t sound forced. Their situation is unstable, and Levi sees more than ever that Erwin does not have all the answers. With the others, the distance of pretence gave him the conviction he needed to pull it off: of course everything is going to be alright, because Erwin Smith is here, and he never makes mistakes, never falters or doubts, only progresses, with the spirit of humanity in his heart.

This Erwin Smith is tired and frustrated. He wonders if Levi resents him for that. 

Levi’s cheek shifts as he settles himself, still staring into the fire.

He is giving me comfort, Erwin thinks. Once again he must reach out because I do not know how to. We are trying to comfort each other, and ourselves in the process.

And perhaps that is how it works, then. Perhaps that is how Erwin learns. 

Perhaps that is attainable.

He slips his arm around Levi’s waist and gently tugs him closer. Levi follows where he leads, his body slumping into Erwin’s, the tension leaking out. How is it possible that Erwin can feel at once so empty and so full? He blinks the stinging away from his eyes, the heat of the fire making them water.

They sit like that, in silence, until Erwin’s joints are stiff and the fire has burnt down to embers. It must have been over an hour, and the peace tasted bittersweet, as if they were both arriving at the same conclusion independent from one another. Levi’s eyelids are drooping. His cheek is squished against Erwin’s shoulder like a child. He is so aware of every place where they are touching. Erwin smiles, and it feels unusual on his face. Then, they hear the sound of boots on the stairwell, approaching the room. It must be Gershin. He sometimes sleeps here, sometimes elsewhere. Levi gets to his feet hastily. Erwin follows suit.

“Thank you for my boots.” Levi says eventually, his voice hoarse.

“Do you feel better for them?”

“I suppose.” He mumbles. 

“Please tell me the next time you are hurt.” Erwin says, watching him go. He doesn’t want him to go.

Levi gives him a tiny, wry smirk before he leaves. “Whatever you say, captain.”

000

Day Ten is cold and rainy. Erwin gets soaked crossing the courtyard to the mess to get breakfast. The weather has no effect on the titans, but significant effect on the lookouts. Only one of the watchtowers has adequate covering, and so Erwin orders makeshift shelters to be built in the others so that he doesn’t lose any of his men to sickness before he gets a chance to lose them to the ride back.

They finish the launch gate. It is a precarious thing, that floods with water and swells with heat, but it will do to deploy the horses quickly. Shadis doesn’t look happy, but he at least for once isn’t angry. He doesn’t ask how Erwin reassigned the labour. Perhaps he doesn’t care. 

He gets Hange’s notes out that evening and peruses them. They are hastily-written and messy, but he thinks he gets the gist. Promising. He will have to frame the information as if Hange noticed it in transit, and happened to have perfect conditions for observation. Even though the findings are useful, if it came to light how they were acquired, Shadis would still be furious. Erwin writes out the essential parts in his own layout and gets the originals back to Hange.

Day Eleven is drier, and Erwin wakes from a fitful night of little sleep to a huge crash. He is dressed and out of the door in a matter of seconds, and sees that the West tower has collapsed.

“A big bastard knocked the foundations out. The whole thing toppled after that.”

“Anyone hurt?” Erwin asks the soldier.

“No. Jens was on lookout but she had her gear, and got to safety in time.”

“Good.” Erwin looks down at the swelling mass of flesh as the titans scramble over the body of a 20-meter - the one who knocked over the tower, presumably - to try to reach the ground level of the fort. There are too many of them to count. It’s no wonder everyone looks to be sleeping badly, with this outside their door.

“Where should we set the West lookouts now, sir?”

He stares at the man. He doesn’t know his name. He is waiting for orders, waiting for Erwin’s orders. Shadis must have noticed the collapse, so why isn’t he here? Erwin should defer to him for the next course of action.

“We don’t have the time or resources to reconstruct it. Set them in South Tower, facing West, and tell the North lookouts to keep an eye on the West too. Anything else like this happens, raise the alarm immediately. Horns, flares, bells, shouting, anything you can. I don’t want the first indication of a breach to be the sound of stones collapsing.”

“Yes, sir.” The man says, salutes, runs off to carry out his orders. Erwin gets back to work too.

The rest of the day passes uneasily. There are rumblings from all around, and the lookouts are assigned a support team of soldiers to engage with the titans when they get too numerous. The base is a flurry of activity, but everyone’s eyes dart over each other, their fingers twitch, they startle at the slightest sound. The crypt is empty. The food store is emptying. Everyone is thinking the same thing: three more days and we can leave. Three more days and we can head home. Three more days and we have to try to escape this prison. 

Levi comes again that evening, as Erwin expected him to. He lights a fire, huffs at the state of the room; how dirty and cold it is. “More like a dungeon” he mutters to himself, although Erwin knows his own can’t be much better, and at least Erwin mostly has this room to himself.

“I have some reading to do, but you could stay, if you like?” Erwin makes himself say, assured and even, moving over to his bunk, which is a sleeping mat rolled over two pallets. He bends himself almost in half sitting on it, smoothing out the papers in his hand. He props himself against the wall.

“Think I’ll clean, actually.” Levi says over his shoulder, as he disappears back out of the door. He returns with a broom a few minutes later. It’s old enough that half of the handle has rotted away. Erwin wonders if they brought it with them or if he just found it here; some relic that still serves its purpose.

So Erwin reads and Levi cleans, but only Erwin's side of the room, tending to the fire every now and then. He says “have you eaten?” and Erwin says “yes”. He then runs out of things to clean and fusses over the crate of Erwin’s clothes. Then he gives up and comes to sit beside him on the bed, like they both knew he would.

Erwin doesn’t show any signs of noticing Levi. He makes notes in the margins and Levi peers at them for a bit and then grows bored, instead just staring ahead, lost in his own thoughts. It’s about half an hour until he starts to slump towards Erwin, and Erwin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at him, for fear of shattering the ease of the moment, the tentative tendrils of tenderness that Levi reaches out blindly, vulnerably. He shifts his arm up, and lets Levi tuck himself under it again. Levi’s body goes limp, and Erwin’s tenses up.

He reads the same line over and over again, trying desperately to maintain the facade of casualness long after he has stopped absorbing the words and focused entirely on the feel of Levi’s powerful, compact body so loose and close. Levi doesn’t say anything, has barely said five sentences since he arrived, but bit by bit relaxes until his head is cushioned against the swell of Erwin’s shoulder and his hand is loosely fisted in his shirt, half-reading, half-dozing. Erwin imagines he is tired. He sleeps badly at the best of times but in this unfamiliar place with nowhere to escape, he’d be surprised if he isn’t just passing out whenever his body is too exhausted to move. He regulates his breathing, deep and slow, his chest rising and falling beneath Levi’s cheek, and wills it to lull him into feeling some security, like the warm rush of comfort Levi gave him two nights before. It must work on both of them, because they drift off in tandem, out in the open for Gershin - or anyone, really - to find, sitting on his bunk against the cold wall, Levi nestled under his arm and Erwin pulling him close, his papers falling like snow around his thighs.

Gershin doesn’t walk in on them, and it isn’t the sunlight that stirs them from their stupor. Two hours later, the horns start blaring.

They jolt into consciousness at the same time and are on their feet in seconds. Years of learning the hard way have drilled into them the ability to rouse in no time. Levi rushes to the window while Erwin rebuckles his harness. 

“Shit.” Levi says.

“What is it? Another collapse?”

“I don’t know. There’s a lot of movement on the ground. Horns can’t be good.”

“No.” Horns mean emergency. “We need to get to the armory and gear-up.”

It’s chaos in the hallways. Erwin watches people scrambling for their things, bursting into side rooms, running into the courtyard. Everyone Levi stops to ask what is happening doesn’t seem to know. It’s Squad Leader Ness that eventually finds them, on the ground floor, panting like an old dog.

“Erwin, thank goodness. Shadis sent me for you.” Strange errand for a veteran. “There’s a breach. They’re coming in. We need to evacuate now.” Ness, usually mild-mannered and humored, looks white with terror and set with purpose. 

“A breach.” Levi echoes over Erwin’s shoulder. Erwin barely hears him, his mind already running ahead.

Breach. Where? West perhaps, with rubble to climb and less rigorous watch. Horns mostly concentrated on entrances. Can’t have got in through the launch gate. The way we came in. One at a time. Likely smaller classes, more agile but easier to kill. Engage immediately. Hold them off until we can deploy the horses out of the new gate. 

“With me, Levi. Ness, please spread the word. People are panicking, they need to know what’s happened. Tell them to get into squads. We will likely meet in the main courtyard for instructions from Shadis.” 

Ness nods mutely and strides down the corridor. Two recruits stream past Erwin, both silently sobbing. When Erwin steps out into the main courtyard, it’s like someone has lifted a rock and set the insects underneath it running and wriggling in panic.

He heads for the armory, Levi hot on his heels. His assessment proves correct: most of the shouting and activity is concentrated on the narrow passage they entered through. They had crudely blocked it with boulders, but perhaps the titans have learnt to pull them away. He doesn’t break his stride.

The room is dark, dingy, and full of people fumbling with gear. Erwin checks his briefly, locking it round his hips, sees Levi do the same, knocking his canisters, grimacing at the sound.

“Refuel.” Erwin orders.

“No time.”

“We will need you. Refuel.”

Levi sighs, nods, runs over to the huge tanks of fuel. Several men in the queue step aside to let him refill his cannisters first. 

Erwin’s with Shadis within a minute, standing on the wooden platform at the front of the main courtyard. He looks inches away from snapping.

“Did no one think to build something more substantial than some fucking rocks, Erwin?”

“It was suggested that we fill the hole with mortar, but was not actioned on account of lack of resources.” Erwin reminds him. I suggested it. You said we shouldn’t go looking for clay reserves outside of the fort.

“Well, we’re in for it now. Like rats in a barrel.”

“Your orders, sir?” Erwin does not like to dwell on disaster.

“Shit.” Shadis looks over the fray before them. It’s panic inching closer to chaos. They must control it, and soon.

“ALL SOLDIERS FALL IN!” Shadis bellows. Erwin watches, keeping his worry locked away and secure, as one by one the men fall into line. The bubble of anxiety that has been building for thirteen days has burst. Some are too frightened to stand. 

“We are evacuating immediately. Get into squads. Erwin, Gershin, Nanaba, Sells: to the gate. Engage with the enemy, hold them off for as long as you can. We will evacuate with the horses via the new deployment gate.”

Erwin’s eyes flick to him. He catches it. 

“What?! ” He hisses.

“There are too many titans around the new gate to safely deploy the horses at this stage, sir.”

“Shit . Right.” He raises his voice again. “Gershin Squad, you take the deployment gate, along with Ness and Mike squad. Clear the path through. This is our only chance of escape. Do not let fear overtake you! All recruits from the 98th cadets; you are tasked with loading only the essentials onto the wagons. Do you understand? Take only what we need for the ride back to the Wall. Soldiers, move out! ”

Salutes and shouts ripples through the crowd and the activity starts up again. Erwin can still hear the shouting from the passage. The screaming.

“Smith. Get to the entrance with your squad now.”

“Right away, sir.”

They are easy to locate, his squad. His brave, skilled, faithful squad, looking up at him, awaiting orders, fighting through their fear. 

“To the passage. Be careful, all of you. They will be crammed in and have reduced mobility, but it will likely be messy, so be prepared.” 

They follow him over to the passage. It is not pretty. Up on the overlook, clumped together, looking down into the crevasse, it is difficult to make out what is happening through the steam. Scouts dip in and out, belting orders to each other. The titans are difficult to distinguish from one another, and Erwin can’t get an accurate head count. They are small but numerous and  persistent, crawling over the corpses of those fallen before them. There are a lot of titan remains disintegrating, enough to form a carpet along the jagged floor of the narrow slope, enough to form a semi-stable path for other titans to climb up. They slip and scramble over the bodies, falling through hollow chests as they cave in, snapping scattered limbs underfoot, drenched in their own kind’s blood as it steams away. It is hell. Erwin is looking down into hell.

The end of the passage is the narrowest point. Nanaba is already there, swooping in and slicing along the weak spot of every titan that gets close to breaking through into the castle, but it isn’t enough. The boulders are gone, and the carnage is attracting others. It’s probably a matter of minutes until they cross over the beach and into the fort.

“Samuel, Hallie - relay information and engage only to protect your squad. Levi, Keiji: take the front and support Nanaba Squad. Lauda and Margot: stop them coming in at the back.”

Erwin tries to steer clear of the direct action and oversee, but there is no way of doing so in the chaos. The other squads arrive and then it is a storm of green cloaks and wires and slashing blades and blood. Scouts are snatched from the air and eaten but Erwin can’t make out who they were. Nanaba’s squad all engage at the front, carving chunks from the necks of titan after titan, defending the gate, tiring, slipping, pausing to breathe, and jumping back into the fray again. It feels like it goes on for hours. Erwin slices off fingers and stabs out eyes, ricocheting from one steep side of the passage to the other like a child on a swing, drenched in sweat and hot blood, his fingers aching from the triggers, his arms beginning to complain from wielding his blades. He hears scattered shouts, cries of despair, desperate orders, questions that are never answered. He can taste the end on his tongue. It is bitter. It is strangely enticing.

A flare shoots up into the air. Blue: the signal to evacuate. 

“RETREAT!” Erwin shouts, with everything he can muster, over the sound of flesh splitting, the coughing of gear, the oddly-distant shouting. 

He scales the side of the crevasse to assess the damage. Nanaba Squad have performed admirably. Including the squad leader, there only seems to be two of them left. 

The titan number appears significantly reduced, but it is difficult to tell. Erwin squints through the steam for signs of movement. There are so many bodies it would be easy for a large enough titan to simply climb up the sides. They’ve made a gentle ramp for the ones who come next. 

Levi, Margot and Keiji appear, covered in blood. Erwin is about to ask after Lauda until he sees her fishing a corpse from the mouth of a dead titan and dropping it by Nanaba.

“Where are the other two?” Keiji asks. He is missing a chunk of his hair. Levi is drenched in evaporating blood, his eyes like two terrifying jet stones set into his snarling face. He was asleep against my chest two hours ago.

They navigate the passage using their gear. The wider mouth of the crevasse has fewer bodies, but they are bigger; titans too big to fit through. Sells’ squad is comprised of three recruits, looking bewildered.

“Report, soldier.” Erwin says to the one who looks most cognisant. 

“Our Squad Leader was eaten, sir.”

Sells. Erwin has known him for five years. “And the rest?”

“We don’t know.”

“Right. Head to the deployment gate. Be careful: the titans will be inside the castle already.”

“Yes, sir!” They say, and hurry off. Erwin tucks away the horror for a later luxury. 

His squad is the priority. They grapple onto the sheer rock of the crevasse and look for Samuel and Hallie.

“Over here!” Lauda has found them. A titan looms. Levi is in and out in seconds, and it falls onto its back with the force of him.

A flurry of movement in the steam and they retreat back up the cliff. Samuel is battered and bloody. He is cradling Hallie close to his chest.

“Is she alright?” Erwin asks, something hot and sour in the back of his throat.

“No, sir.” Samuel says, strangely calm, eerily absent.

“Lay her down.”

“Erwin, we have to leave.” Says Keiji. “Bring her with us.”

But Samuel is lowering her to the ground. It is rocky with a few sparse tufts of grass. It must be uncomfortable.

It is a miracle she is not dead already. A huge set of teeth has clearly nearly bitten her in half. Her stomach has collapsed. Her insides spill out onto the rock. She blinks blearily at Erwin.

“I got there too late.” Says Samuel evenly. “I pulled her from its mouth, but I was still too late.”

“Can you hear me, Hallie?” Erwin asks, kneeling beside her. Levi looks at the mess of her torso with an expression that Erwin cannot read.

“Yes, sir.” She manages.

“You did your job well, Hallie. Thanks to you, we’ve bought enough time to evacuate everybody.” He tells her. Her eyes are unfocused. He prays that she can understand him.

“I…” She draws in shallow, wet breaths. What’s left of her lungs must be full of her own blood. Her face is white like the moon against the grey ground.

“I am going to die.” She gets out. Erwin doesn’t know if it is a question, but he answer her nonetheless.

“Yes. I think you are.” He lowers his voice, makes it soft. He cares too much to lie to his comrades.

She smiles. It looks like relief. She doesn’t look scared anymore.

“Thank you, captain.”

“We will never forget this sacrifice, Hallie. Your sacrifice. We will never forget you. You have been like family to us.” 

She is suddenly crying, reaching for Erwin. She is just a girl. She is too brave for her own good. Erwin takes her trembling hand.

“I am glad…” She struggles for breath. “To make you proud, captain. Thank you for what you have given me.” Her eyes shine huge and adoring. Erwin feels a twinge inside him, like a hairline fracture appearing on his heart.

“My family…”

“We will take you back to them.” Says Lauda, thickly.

“No.” She says urgently, managing to shake her head. “I don’t have one. Only you. Only you now. Leave me here. Save yourselves. Please.”

Erwin brushes the hair from her face. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch like a loved one. She is gently steaming, still.

“You honour us, Hallie. You honour me.” He assures her, as the tears slip down her cheeks. They have companions on the faces of some of the other members of the squad.

He holds her hand for the next few seconds, which is all it takes for her to slip away. 

It pains him to leave her, but he is more practical than sentimental. She is gone. This was her final wish. No one in his squad moves to object. They lay out her body on the hill, away from the titans’ grasp, and bid farewell.

More carnage at the deployment gate. Shadis supervises the evacuation. He counts how many of Erwin’s group are left and looks displeased. 

“You’re on the next round out. Fend off the survivors and defend the end of the formation once we’re all away.” He orders. 

It is even worse here. The titans are not in as cramped a space, but they just keep coming. Erwin can see more on the horizon. They will have to outrun them. 

The mechanism of the gate holds, despite its hasty construction, and then what remains of Erwin Squad is released on horseback out into titan territory once more. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees several titans clambering around the towers of the castle, and hopes that everyone made it out in time. 

Titans grab at them from all sides and Erwin shouts for them to split and loop around the group. He sees Levi, flitting through the tree-trunk sized legs like a wraith. 

“Levi! Take as many out as you can.” He calls to him. Levi gives him a firm nod and throws himself into combat. 

As ever it is a wonder to watch him fight. Erwin and the others take out the stragglers while Levi dives straight into the tangled mess in the middle. He comes out red and dripping, teeth flashing clenched in the fading light. They fall one after the other, dozens of hands grabbing at Levi, but he is too quick; it is like trying to swat a fly.

And the monsters are getting lethargic. The sun is setting. Hange was right.

Finally, everyone is out. Shadis tears past the graveyard of disappearing corpses and his order to retreat reverberates through what is left. 

Erwin waits until Levi is back on his horse before calling for his squad to follow the rest of the Scouts. 

They are chased by titans until the sky is black. The rainclouds block out the moon and Erwin has to have faith that retracing their steps will be easy, as navigating by the scenery is nearly impossible at present. Eventually, the rumbling footfalls behind them drop off one by one. 

The formation rides on into the night, tired and shocked, the feeling just coming back to Erwin after the numbness of battle. They congregate finally on the rocky outcrop that he camped with Levi on the second night of the expedition. There are still scorch marks on the stone that their campfires left behind. Shadis demands that they get as much rest as possible, and push on through the next two legs. It is a stupid idea; men will drop off their horses, but Erwin will not argue this point yet. Shadis should allow them all a long rest first.

They pitch tents and retreat inside, still skittish, still full of adrenaline. Erwin feels ready to drop with exhaustion. Without Hallie, they are six. Erwin waits until everyone else has paired up before feigning duty and watching Levi feign reluctance, and they climb into their tent together. 

It is too close and quiet for this, here. Too empty and awful. Erwin lies and Levi sits, as before. Erwin can feel eyes on him as he stretches out. Before he succumbs to exhaustion, Levi speaks.

“What happened to your cloak on the way out?”

“Hm?” He was wearing his cloak when they fled the castle.

“On the journey from the Wall. You didn’t have a cloak at two of the rendezvous points. What happened to it?”

“Oh.” Says Erwin. It takes him a moment to remember. A recruit crying...her friend had died. She was quiet, shoving her fist in her mouth to stop the sobs, making a mess of herself. She was new and green and optimistic. Erwin had encouraged her to get back on her horse and move forward but she was staring down at herself, at the blood soaked into her cloak that wasn’t evaporating…

So he’d given her his. He hadn’t even thought about it. Was that kindness or pragmatism? Did he go without an extra cover from the rain to ease her sorrow or to get her moving again quickly? Maybe he will never be certain.

“I gave it to a recruit.” He says, and leaves it at that. He is still aware of Levi staring, right up until the point when he isn’t aware of anything anymore.

They get precious few hours, and once the sun is up they pack up and leave. Levi swings his head to the West and looks over the land for a long moment before kicking on his horse. Erwin watches him do it, and wonders what he expected to read in the gesture.

The long ride paid off, and most of the day is quiet. They have outrun most of the titans that chased them from the castle, and so now only have to worry about those ahead of them, instead of behind. The formation stays tight on the retreat; Shadis’ orders. Erwin feels unsafe in such a big group, with limited information on either side, but the panicked frenzy in the commander, the desperate rush towards home, seems to be right in line with what his soldiers are feeling. 

They encounter two groups of titans before they reach the forest, but lose only one man in the process of dispatching them. The relative bloodlessness of the day eases Shadis, and Erwin barely has to contend with him at all over the necessity to rest for the night.

Back up in the trees, Erwin has a spare hour to eat and rest and think about Sells’ card tricks and that terrible, last, loving look in Hallie’s eyes as she faded away. There is very little talking. This night is always the worst: the last night before the last day. Tomorrow, adrenaline and hope will mix and spur them on. Tonight, there is nothing to do but sit and try not to think, try to sleep, so close to safety and yet still in the jaws of death, like waiting for bad news you know is coming.

They’re gone with the dawn. Supplies are very low, Shadis informs him. They need to make it back today, or they will lose the energy to fight. Looking at the grim, pale faces that surround them, Erwin thinks that many have already lost it.

The rain is back and with a vengeance. He grits his teeth against the wind and presses on. He’s concerned that Samuel hasn’t slept in two days: he looks ready to fall off his horse. His squad in general are worse for wear, especially since they’ve lost one of their own. Two, he reminds himself, we lost Yenna less than a fortnight ago. Am I so quick to forget out here? Only Levi looks completely unchanged. 

He longs for the burden of command, now, looking at Shadis in front of him and hating him. Coward. They need to spread out. In weather conditions like this, passing through hilly terrain, they won’t see the enemy until they are upon them. 

They reach the river. It has burst its banks. Erwin didn’t get a chance to implement his new solution to the bottleneck problem, as they are all together in one nervous clump at the bridge anyway. He asks Shadis for permission to stay back with his squad to make sure everyone gets across. 

It’s slow going: the horses startle easily at the noise of the water, irrational animals. Erwin is on tenterhooks for hours, watching the landscape through the trees and the rain, trying to pick out movement as one squad after another files across the narrow bridge. Levi meets his gaze; he understands his concerns. He shares them. They look back out together.

The inevitable happens, of course, as Erwin had subconsciously resigned himself to. One huge titan; bald and bulbous, staggers towards them. It is followed by two smaller titans; 5-meter classes. Erwin shouts the message to be relayed across the bridge. Horses shift and shuffle as their riders pull back on the bit. 

“Engage, Erwin Squad!” Comes the order he was expecting. With a sense of exhausted finality, Erwin draws his blades. 

“Margot, Lauda and Samuel, secure the retreat. Levi, Keiji and I will take this.”

With a glance at both of them, the take-down begins, just as they practised. Levi and Keiji take the smaller ones down in a single swing, the hot spray of blood colouring the dull, damp grass on either side of them. Erwin grapples onto the bigger; ducking under its arm and looping around its head to take it down. 

It is slow as it raises its arm to swat at him: ah, minorly more intelligent than a standard titan, then. Erwin disengages his grapple to dodge the slow, clumsy blow and moves around its chest. He can hear the whir of Keiji’s gear to his right as he comes up to finish it off while it is distracted by Erwin. He tries to blink the rain out of his eyes as he stares it down, his blades heavy in his hands.

It moves and he doesn’t quite see how, either with a roll of its shoulder or a lurch of its upper body, but it’s mouth falls open and its teeth show huge and yellow and closer - too close - back up, drop around - he is too near its head - its tongue is red and wet - it has dislodged Keiji's hook - his right grapple finds its foot but he isn’t quick enough on the gas to change direction. A huge hand looms behind him, caging him in against the thing’s front.

He isn’t sure if everything slows down, or if he is slow with shock and the titan with size, because when Levi comes in it’s like lightning. 

The titan’s nose goes first, which leaves it startled long enough for Erwin to finish his manoeuvre, and slip around its legs. When he has gathered himself enough to be conscious of what is happening, Levi has sliced the thing’s hand off - the hand that was reaching for Erwin. He moves like…like nothing Erwin has ever seen, flashing between its falling fingers, shooting immediately to cut off its other hand with an audible growl-grunt of rage. His eyes flash like fire. 

Erwin reorientates, sees the opening, and goes for its nape. It falls with a crash just before the remaining cavalry, squeezing themselves onto the bridge. Levi lands beside it, panting. 

“Thank you.” Erwin says to him. He was too slow, out of practise with all his desk work. It almost got him killed. If Levi wasn’t there, with his speed and his skill, it would have been over. 

Levi glances up at him at the sound of his words, and looks momentarily confused, genuinely bewildered, as if he has never seen Erwin before. He is coming back to himself, Erwin realises, he is re-entering his body after turning into death itself, for a second - that thing that is all impossible instinct and unstoppable ability. Erwin watches the humanity return to his eyes with quashed wonder. 

“Erwin! Is it done with?” Ness calls from the bridge. 

“Yes. Formation onward.” He replies, without taking his eyes off Levi. 

Onward. They move onward. It is the final stretch and Erwin’s blood is pumping again. He feels light, enthused, even, but with more than the prospect of home. He keeps glancing back at Levi as if to check he is still there, that he hasn’t disappeared with the titan steam or taken flight entirely. Levi stares back at him, with the usual well-disguised concern and a hint of something else; a trace of that earlier shock at himself. 

There is one more titan encounter. Erwin summons some strength from somewhere, but it isn’t enough. The rain is sheeting down and the visibility is getting worse. They manage to kill the four that descend on them, but not before a shaggy, dog-like one has snatched Margot off her horse and swallowed her. 

Others die. Erwin should care about the soldiers of the Survey Corps equally, he knows. But as it is happening he only notices Margot. Levi isn’t quick enough. He will hate himself for that. The inside of her is dark. She doesn’t scream as she dies. 

The titan falls immediately after. Erwin thinks, foolishly, that she might be alive in its stomach, perhaps still slipping down its throat. They could pull her out if she was swallowed whole. But she wasn’t. Maybe they should pull her out and finish her off as a mercy. They have never recovered any of their fallen comrades from the corpses of titans, he remembers. Their digestive acid must be strong. 

Levi is on the rampage. There is no stopping them on the final leg. He is off into the sky within seconds of an order. Any titans unfortunate enough to stray too close get eviscerated. They are fortunate that it is only single stragglers and not hoards, Erwin thinks. Even Levi would struggle to face ten of them at once.

The Wall appears like a heavenly beacon, rising out of the bed of the horizon and growing steadily bigger. Erwin considers on their approach that perhaps this counts as a victory. They spent more than a week beyond the Wall and had enough men to make it back as something resembling a regiment. The castle would do for a day, a week perhaps, in a smaller group, and held well despite its inevitable fall. It would be good to mark it on a map as somewhere to hide if a squad got separated from the main battalion. Still, even after all of this, the idea of a permanent base outside of the Walls is clearly a pipe dream. Nothing is permanent out there. And even if they built an impenetrable fortress, how is that different from the Walls? Even if the titans can’t get in, knowing you can’t get out is almost as bad. A life lived in constant fear is no life at all; that is what all Scouts, on some level, must believe.

At the gate, people gather curious, poking their heads around buildings and muttering to one another. They must notice how few there are on the return, but those in the ranks look happy enough to be alive that perhaps the townsfolk don’t read the retreat as a loss, like they have in the past. Erwin rides beside Shadis at the front, head high, not thinking about Hallie’s eyes or Margot’s insides, and takes a small victory from the time they have been away, and that they return at all, let alone that over half of them survived. 

By the time the people have decided to label the expedition as a failure, Erwin is safely camped behind the gates of HQ, unable to see their disdain, their disappointment, and recognise it as a sentiment he will have to get used to. The compound feels small and barren after almost a fortnight in titan territory, and all Erwin wants to do is take a long bath and collapse. Shadis informs them in grim, stammered words that they all have the next week off. No one appears to be particularly thrilled. No one appears to be particularly anything, at the moment. 

As Erwin stables his horse, the poor thing run ragged, he watches Levi stroke the nose of his and whisper something to it. Levi is talking to his horse. Erwin would smile if the muscles in his face had anything left to give. 

They eat what food is available with greedy speed, the hall eerily quiet and mournful, as it usually is after an expedition. Then, the men retreat to wash if they can have the energy, and disappear into the barracks. Erwin cleans himself by the basin in his room and strips himself naked; unwilling to wear anything after so many days of wearing essentially the same unwashed garments. Between his sheets, unusually soft and crisp after what seems like an eternity under a scratchy blanket on a hard bed, he notices that he is cold. He glances across the room: he forgot to light a fire.

He sleeps almost immediately, and dreams of floating in a vast, buoyant body of water, unable to see the shore on any side, knowing that he will drown, and yet instead of fear he feels peace, and lets the water lift his body to its surface, floating on his back, and looking up at the sky.

Chapter Text

The misery had been thick like fog, but she’d managed to stay a little positive. That’s something Levi doesn’t understand: how people can stay chipper when things are so dire. It was a talent of Isabel’s, of Hange’s, of Hallie’s. 

“What will you do when we get back, Levi?” She asked. She used to be scared of him. When she asked then, she looked him in the eyes. She had a smile on her face, but a gentle one, encouraging. It irked Levi, but he’d grown tired of being unnecessarily cruel to his squad mates, and so forgave her the attempt at conversation when he’d prefer none, humored her by answering her well-intentioned question.

“I don’t know. Take a proper bath, I suppose.” He muttered. They were standing side-by-side, cleaning their gear in the temporary armory. It was three days before the fort would fall.

To his surprise, she laughed. He blinked at her. She had a smudge of grease on her nose where she’d wiped it. He’d noticed her sniffling: the damp conditions must have given her a cold.

“That would be nice. There is more warm water inside the Walls than there is here.”

“And less titans.” He added.

She laughed again. “It isn’t so bad.”

“What?” He looked at her under lowered brows. It was ‘so bad’. It was fucking awful. It was cold, wet, dirty, and there were titans at their door every hour or every day. And they had to watch Shadis slowly lose it. And there was no more tea, and no fresh food left, and no proper way to get clean. And his boots rubbed. And it was making Erwin stressed. 

She chuckled again, drawing her rag through the inside of the wire coil mechanism. 

“I mean, it’s not ideal, but it feels nice to get closer to you all. And to be doing something good, something brave and useful. I used to be so terrified of speaking to anyone, when I joined. I’ve always been too shy, I think. Now I don’t worry about stuff like that.”

“No point in worrying. We all might die any day.”

“Exactly. And you’re strange but you’re nice. You care for each other. That’s why I joined the Scouts.”

“That’s why you joined?! To make friends?”

“I know some people join for the thrill, or the honour of fighting for humanity, or the chance to see the world outside, or because they cannot sleep knowing there are titans outside. I joined because I don’t have any family. I don’t have anyone at all.” She said simply, looking at him again with her big eyes and her freckles. “The MPs are corrupt, the Garrison are lazy, and the Scouts are insane - this is what people say, of course, but what I saw whenever the Scouts came through was this...camaraderie that no one else had. A sense of belonging and of reliance on each other. They used to carry each other back into town, limping and crying and everything, but it made me think. I’ve…”

She broke off, suddenly self-conscious. Levi was actually interested, so gave her what he hoped was a muted expression of encouragement. She looked back down at her gear, embarrassed.

“I’ve wanted a family for so long. Forever, really. I envy it in others. I thought that if you are out there alone, if you are doing the most dangerous and horrible job in the world, then all you have is each other. I thought that nowhere was I more likely to find that kind of closeness and dependency than in the Scouts, and it has to come quickly, right? Seen as people don’t live long. I thought - that’s a group I want to be part of, to fight alongside, to be accepted by. I’d be happy to die for people I care about. So I joined.”

Levi listened, and considered Hallie in this new light. His childhood was so devoid of family that he almost assumes that everyone had it better, but perhaps that was naive. He remembered Hallie’s shyness, her willingness to please, the way she got promoted to Erwin Squad so quickly, because she was dedicated, and good at communicating. Because she worked harder than anyone to be useful, to be a small part of a large whole. 

“That’s a weird fucking reason to join.” Levi said gruffly, cleaning out his canisters. “But I suppose as valid as any. So is it all you thought it would be?”

“Absolutely.” She said warmly. “I’m proud to fight alongside all of you. I’ve met lots of brilliant people. Weird, sure, but brilliant. I wonder if everyone goes through the same things when they join….”

“What?”

“I don’t know…” She dipped her rag back in the grease and moved onto her triggers. “It might be very similar for everyone, right? The Scout experience. Arrive terrified, get assigned a bunk beneath someone who snores, drop your tray in the mess in the first week, get shouted at for sleeping in, fall out of a tree because you’re too focused on not missing the target to remember to loose your grapple, go to the tavern on the weekend and do combat practise hungover, go all moony over your squad leader, lose people you care about on the first mission, dread doing it all over again but knowing that you will anyway…” She rattled off the list like it was a drill schedule. 

“And that’s the normal way of joining, huh?” Levi asked, a little amused.

“Ah, of course! I heard you were scouted rather than joining through the cadets. Well, that seems to be the gist of it, of finding your new family. The others in my cadet class all did the same.”

“You fell out of a tree?” He raised an eyebrow. She smirked.

“More than once.”

“You did combat practise on a hangover?” 

“Mm-hm!” She looked proud of that one. Fair enough.

“You got a thing for Erwin?”

“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes, smiled. She did that a lot more than she used to - she used to bite her lip and make herself small, and now she spoke her mind and smiled big and teasing. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Levi wrinkled his nose. “I suppose it could be worse. You could be in Gershin Squad. Or Ness.” 

She laughed at that, at his expression, nudged him with her shoulder and it didn’t make him want to hit her for it.

“Like you haven’t noticed he’s glorious. Like you don’t moon.” 

He kept his face impassive, lifted his brows a little.

“Although, you moon more successfully than the rest of us.” She said, looking performatively crestfallen. “Everyone knows you’re his favorite.”

“I don’t ‘moon’.” Levi said, deadpan, focused on his cleaning. 

“Hm, maybe ‘moon’ isn’t the right word, then.” She said.

Levi wondered if it was as obvious as she was implying, if people looked at him and saw his feelings clear as day, like the chord he thought only he knew about was suddenly visible. Or perhaps everyone wanted Erwin for themselves, in some way, and so it was just assumed that Levi did too. 

“You’ve done good.” He said, and didn’t know why. “You fit in well. With us, I mean. With the squad. You’re good.”

God, he’s so shit at this.

It was enough for Hallie. She beamed again. 

“You think? Thank you, Levi! I’m sorry for teasing you.”

“Tch. It takes more than that to irritate me. Hange’s been following me around for months, asking for a blood sample. This is easy.”

She laughed again. The rain had stopped. His gear was clean.

Levi thinks of this now, of all the shitty, painful things he could think of, over his uneaten dinner, pushing it around on his plate. Just a kid. She was lonely. She wanted to be accepted and needed. She died holding Erwin’s hand.

She looked happy, he remembers. She looked content. She found her family, and died for it, as she was prepared to, willing to, even. 

She died for Erwin, like everyone else. Levi was toying with the idea of telling Erwin that the recruits all apparently had the hots for him, but that was back when they weren’t all dead. It was going to be funny, and now it would just be sad. Erwin would think her death was his fault, because her devotion came from her love of her comrades, her captain. Levi isn’t sure if he’d be right or not.

Maybe it is how she wanted to go. Maybe she knew that they cared about her. Levi is very glad that his stupid temper didn’t get the better of him, that day in the armory, and that he didn’t tell her to piss off. He told her she was doing good, and that they valued her. That’s something, that she heard that, and smiled at it. 

“You ok, Levi?” Keiji asks. It’s weird, coming from him. The missing clump of hair on his head is growing back fuzzy.

Levi nods, eats, forces the meat down with copious mouthfuls of water. 

At least he is clean again. His fingers are sore, from how much he has cleaned them. He has to stop doing that. He's got blood on his bedsheets.

The mess is quite empty. It is late for dinner, but in general there are lots of empty seats now. 

It’s been almost a week since they returned. Levi has hardly seen Erwin, locked in his office, doing damage control. He’s seen Shadis even less; word is he’s not on the base, either grovelling to the brass or licking his wounds in Shiganshina - it’s anyone’s guess.

The space might do him and Erwin some good. Levi’s head feels clearer when they are apart. But he thinks of him often, even though Erwin is here and safe and alive, and others are not. All of the grief has been wrung from him. He is drained dry by the latest losses.

They all cope, of course. Samuel struggles more than the others. To lose Yenna, who was a close friend, and to pull a half-mangled Hallie from a titan two seconds too late, when he was new and unused to such horror, has understandably fucked him up. He is quiet. His stare is empty. No one can seem to help him. All the squad members good with feelings are dead.

After dinner he wants some time alone outside. He thinks he might head to the stables to see Stern. She has taken to him, which is surprising after the close call with the river. And he got to name her, after all; a name for her character, for part of a boat, since she carried him to safety. 

It’s raining again. The heat of the long summer days feels like a distant memory. 

000

He’s been to the edge of the known world and back, stared into the mouth of hell, soaked himself through and beaten himself dry, and returned alive, and he still has letters to answer.

The task is mechanical at this point. He’s taken to signing death warrants on Shadis’ behalf because he tends to disappear off to the tavern for a few days after the return from a mission and Erwin doesn’t want to fall behind, so his already sizeable stack of paperwork is doubled. People up at the top want to know what and how and why, asking him what he did with their money and their approval. His knuckles are inky. His wrist aches. He blinks at the scrabbling sunlight, straining through the rainclouds like silk curtains. He sighs and returns to work.

There are a few letters that he was expecting, but had foolish hope wouldn’t be waiting on his desk upon his return. One is from Harriet Ashburn. It is brief.

I anguish over the way things ended. Please see me again. I want to talk it through. I was in a foul temper. I hope you have compassion enough to hear me out. 

Forgive me,

H 

He reads it with other things in mind, his mind slowly turning over the fallout of the expedition still, like a baker absently tossing dough. 

He throws it into the fire without emotion. 

A more pressing one from Lord Furbank. Erwin reads it more carefully.

Captain Smith,

It has come to my attention that you have neglected to respond to my wife’s inquiries. She is a soft and polite thing, as I’m sure you are aware, and has taken this spurning to heart. I feel less generous when my wife is spurned, and occasionally more vengeful. 

Congratulations on your recent expedition. I believe you only lost just under half of your forces - this must be some sort of record for the Survey Corps. I do hope you can find time in your schedule, full of visiting grieving families, to drop in on us. We do appreciate your company.

Fond regards,

Lord H C Furbank

Hmm. Lord Furbank and his wife have unusual, often unsavoury hobbies. The letter drips with sarcasm; Lady Furbank is anything but soft and polite, and clearly her husband would like there to be no way to misinterpret this as anything other than a threat. Erwin knows things about their proclivities, their interests, has been privy to them himself on occasion, and so now weighs up the risks in his head, as he would with battle statistics. 

Furbank’s assets are tied up mostly in his inherited land, so Erwin cannot really threaten him with bankruptcy. Blackmail, then, or at least, matching Furbank’s own blackmail. If Erwin wishes to break off his arrangement with the family, he will have to be prepared for the backlash that will come from Furbank feeling scorned, or his wife feeling rejected. They could ruin him, he thinks, with what he has done for them, to them, with them. They could trip him at the finish line, with Shadis crumbling quietly in Shiganshina and the new recruits asking why Erwin isn’t in charge, with command so close to his fingertips. But Erwin is no fool, and he is never without a backup plan. He has enough dirt on the Furbanks to match them, to hold them in perpetual silence, suspended in the space of mutually-assured destruction. 

How best to show my hand, though? Or at least, half of it. Erwin listens, Erwin reads, Erwin believes that he has more dirt on the Furbanks than they have on him. The worst case scenario: they leak his exploits, expose him as a whore, have the accusation confirmed by other spurned former-lovers, and he is the laughing stock of Sina. Would that be enough to deny him the commandership, when there is no more obvious candidate? Would it really matter when he’s taking men beyond the Walls, implementing the plans he’s been developing for years, racking up progress, preserving life and getting answers?

He’d have difficulty raising funds. When the cat’s out of the bag, the legitimate routes to sponsorship would certainly tighten. No noble with a reputation to maintain would want to be seen giving money to a regiment run by a man who used to prostitute himself out for it. The Premier would be displeased. He likes Erwin, at least Erwin thinks he does, but would his professional respect weather something so distasteful?

So he’d be the Whore Commander. He’d have to double his efforts. He’d have to own it, slip into it voluntarily, wear it like armour. He’d have to sleep with all of Sina to get the funding he needs, if Central Government were to deny him to protect their image.

Erwin sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, fights the urge to rub his eyes when he catches sight of the ink on his fingers. If only Furbank could just fuck his own wife properly, this would not need to be my problem, he thinks bitterly.

He supposes he could continue it. They don’t ask for him all that frequently. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not unbearable. Then there would be no need for scheming and conflict, for gambling his career and his life’s ambition on something as petty, and nasty, and irrelevant as sex. He doesn’t care. It isn’t important. He can offer them an evening every now and then to use him as they see fit, to feel superior, perhaps, and then he can take their wealth and put it behind the Corps. 

And then he will never get out of it. He will be under Furbank’s thumb forever. He thinks of looking at himself in the mirror, with his split lip, his bruised cheek. He told Levi that he wouldn’t go back to the Furbanks after that, but it isn’t that simple, apparently. He is knotted up in it, again, as he feared he might be. There are fish hooks under his skin, tugging, burying deeper.

He has enough information to out-manoeuvre Furbank, but it would still be a gamble. To insult him by matching his blackmail may make him act rashly, unpredictably, make him do something he wouldn’t do in his right mind, and ruin everything. Erwin could do it, but is it worth the risk when it costs him less now?

He remembers Hange’s embrace on the lookout tower, Hallie reaching for his hand with the last of her strength, Levi cushioned against his shoulder, his breath warm against his chest. He didn’t think much about giving his body away, back then at the beginning. He thinks he would quite like it back now.

He also has people to protect, however he can. The ends justify the means. Only he can clean up his own messes.

He doesn’t burn this letter. He slips it to the back of his drawer, under his blotting paper, tucking it into the back of his mind as more morbid tasks appear. It is a squad leader’s duty to sort through their fallen members’ possessions, but they lost enough squad leaders on the expedition that Erwin’s doing more than his own squad’s share of grim inventory. 

000

Levi doesn’t make it to the stables before he is accosted.

“Levi! How are you doing? You look less grey than you did yesterday.”

“Squad Leader Hange.” Levi says flatly.

“Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” Hange says. They smile less widely these days. The expedition’s death count makes the atmosphere on the base anything but jovial, and apparently even Hange is sensitive to it. “Can I speak to you? I think my hypothesis is in a place where I can discuss it with you.”

“Your ‘hypothesis’?”

“Yep. About your abilities.”

“Right.” Levi is tired. Surprisingly, he hasn’t been sleeping. No one has. 

“Do you wanna do it here?” Hange glances around. “I don’t have my notes with me.”

“You have notes?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be thorough, but actually I suppose I don’t need them. The end conclusion is pretty straightforward.”

Levi cocks his hip, crosses his arms, looks at them with mild frustration, which they either don’t catch or don’t care about.

“You’re not getting me into that cesspit you call a lab.”

“Alright, let’s go sit under a tree!”

“It’s pissing with rain.”

“Well, where were you going?”

“The stables.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way!” They blink expectantly at him and he sighs, defeated once more.

They talk about titan senses for most of the walk there, raising their voice to be heard over the rain as Levi all but runs to shelter. Stern seems happy to see him. He scratches her nose instead of listening to Hange.

“...and that’s all well and good, but until I have a proper test subject, I won’t know for sure, and Shadis is being a real spoilsport about that. Anyway, this isn’t about titans, it is about you, and you are much more complicated and scary.”

He used to spend a lot of time on the roof of this place. It’s just the rain up there now.

“So, your skills, I still don’t know where they come from, may never know, as long as we don’t know where you come from. It would be easier if you had a known relative, or some family history to see if it’s an inherited thing, but almost everything is, so it may be pertinent to just assume it is, or at least keep it in mind.”

“I apologise for not having any relatives for you to interrogate.” Levi says sarcastically.

“Oh, never mind!” Hange says. “It’s more that I’ve confirmed your trigger, as it were. I think I was right when I spoke to you in the bath house that time, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“So, tragedy, heartache, rage - all good triggers. You’re good all the time, of course, but you get superhuman when you’re emotional. When you’ve lost someone dear to you.”

Levi gets that same sick feeling, that rising of acid in his throat, when Hange talks about it. It’s vulnerability combined with painful memories. He grinds his teeth together and focuses on the downy skin of his mare’s muzzle. 

“I think it’s not the type of emotion that matters, but the strength. I think you’d perform equally admirably if you were euphoric, but obviously there won’t be much data on that: not a great deal of opportunities for happiness out there! So, I watched you cut the nose of that titan on the way back, and both of its hands within seconds of each other. It should have been impossible to move that quickly, with such accuracy that you didn’t even need to restock your blades, but I think that’s because Erwin was in danger, and your instincts took over, right?”

Levi sighs. “Sure. Whatever. When I need to save someone, I get faster, stronger. It’s magic.” He scoffs. “I don’t think there is much extraordinary in that.”

“Well, it is different isn’t it? Because you were in close combat with titans a lot when we were out there, but I saw nothing as remarkable, and I read the reports, and aside from your usual high level of competence, there is nothing particularly noteworthy, not like what happened on your first expedition, anyway. And people tend to make a note of these things. Do you think your instincts flared up at any other time when I wasn’t present?”

Instincts. What are they even talking about? When he cut that titan up on the way back, he hadn’t given it a single thought. It was like, a sudden, stinging clarity - like a blow to the back, a hot brand to his skin saying 'Now! Now! Pay attention! Kill it!'  He isn’t sure what that means. He isn’t sure how to describe it. 

But it is distinct. That energy is quieter, more potent, more chilling, than the normal adrenaline rush he feels in battle. It's like being at the centre of the storm. 

“Don’t think so.” He murmurs after a moment.

“Ok. What does it feel like?”

“I don’t know. It’s like I leave my body for a bit. Like something else takes over. And it’s...red. And black. And angry. Like a rope being pulled real tight. Like...uh, like being in a dream.”

In a nightmare.

“Interesting. It does sound instinctual, then. Almost inadvertent, animalistic, some deep-buried compulsion. So you can tell when it is happening?”

“I suppose so. I just...never have before.”

“That’s alright. It makes sense. I think it is linked to your situation. I think it is triggered by external stimuli.”

Levi gives them his best ‘unimpressed’ before moving to the water butt to refill Stern’s trough.

“What, like a big-ass titan trying to eat me?”

“No, like a big-ass titan trying to eat Erwin.”

“Huh?” He upends the bucket over Stern’s trough, punctuating the conversation with the loud sound of splashing.

“It didn’t happen with Margot, right? Or Hallie? Or anyone else during the retreat. Just Erwin, right?”

“That’s…” Fucking stupid “...not true. I’ve saved people. I’ve saved loads of damn people. I’m constantly having to pull idiots off titan tongues.”

“Was it the same with them, then? Was it like a dream then?”

No. “I don’t know, like I said, I don’t think about it.”

“I didn’t even see where you came from with that one that tried to eat Erwin. One minute you were on your horse and the next you were cutting its nose off - is it always like that?”

“Just because I know how to use my damn equipment and don’t like seeing people get fucking eaten - “

“And the way you looked, after, like you were sleepwalking, or really drunk, or something. You looked like you didn’t even recognise him, like you didn’t understand the language he was speaking, for a second. Why was that?”

Swimming up through the black-and-red haze to the centre of sunlight - more rain, more blood, more horror. The world is shifting chaos and it slips through Levi’s desperate fingers. There is a chord of red, and it hurts, it stings and sings, it makes Levi follow. He will kill them all. It isn’t even difficult. They deserve it, anyway, because they - they tried to…

“Thank you.”

“I don’t fucking know, ok? It just happens. I’m just good. I’m better than everyone else, I’m faster and stronger, and I’m fucking sorry that I can’t just switch it on and off, that people die because I’m not there to save them again and again.” He snarls. Stern shifts in her stall, her ears flattening. He feels immediately guilty for snapping, sighs, strokes her back into calmness. Hange is looking at him oddly.

“It’s like...I don’t know, it’s like…”

“Instinct.” Hange supplies, and even though they have used the word before, it sounds more correct, now, somehow.

“Yeah. Like that. I can’t help it. I can’t control it.”

“I think perhaps it doesn’t just require your emotion, but your emotion and specific people. People you care for.”

He sighs leaning on the stable door, dropping his forehead against his arms. “Maybe.”

“I know you care for all of your comrades, but I think Isabel and Farlan were an exception. I think Erwin is an exception.”

“How’d you figure that?” He says dryly.

“Because you feel specially for him.”

Levi frowns, looks confused, mildly horrified, can feel the denials rising up his throat.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Hange looks exasperated. They smack their palm against their forehead and groan, and it’s only partly in good humor. 

“You two must think I haven’t got a brain.” They say. “Well, I have. A good one. And eyes, too.”

“Congratulations.” Levi says against his sleeve.

“Erwin’s more difficult to read, but you, Levi, sometimes you look at him with your mouth hanging open.”

“I do not.”

Hange snorts, kicks the toe of their boot into a pile of hay, clicks their tongue.

“Maybe you think you’re subtle. Maybe you are, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not as oblivious as the rest of the squad leaders. He’s the only person you obey without question.”

“I trust him.” Levi says, tersely, defending himself. 

“Sure, and that’s not remarkable for you? After everything? I’d say trust is a pretty powerful feeling, a strong way to bind you to him, as it were. Strong enough, anyway, for it to trigger that dream state of yours.”

“He’s just my squad leader - “

“He brought you here. He’s the reason you’re in the Scouts in the first place. He spoke for you, claimed you as his responsibility, secured your citizenship.”

“What, so I owe him?!”

“It’s not about owing. It’s not about paying him for what he’s done, it’s about the feelings that come with it. Sure, maybe you feel indebted, but besides that you feel respect, gratitude, trust, affection, even.”

Levi barks out a harsh laugh that sounds too loud in his own ears. “Yes, me and Erwin are the definition of affectionate. You’ve finally lost it, squad leader.”

“You can’t fool me, Levi.” They sigh lightly. “It’s exhausting to watch you. I feel sorry for your squad. Still, it is none of my business, it’s just feeding into my hypothesis. I think that Erwin being in danger triggered it this time, so it’s based on your emotions: people you care about in peril.”

Levi thinks dully, absently, with a sort of resigned irony, that if Hange is right, he is paying for Erwin with his abilities after all. It is a transaction of flesh; the giving and the carving, like he suspected in the first place. He stares at the bell-shaped patch on Stern’s head, strokes it, wishes he’d never listened to Lobov’s proposal, wishes he’d never been born at all, maybe. That would have saved everyone a lot of trouble,

“You’re still not offering any actual uses for this thing you’re talking about, Hange.” He says with derision.

“Well, I’m working on that. At the minute it just means that you’re more aware of how it works and Erwin isn’t likely to get eaten any time soon! Maybe if you and me went outside of the Walls, and I got into a spot of trouble with a titan, then - “

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Levi says quickly, firmly, shutting the idea down before it takes root because Hange is crazy enough to try and Levi is not risking it. They are a pain in his ass and he absolutely does not want to face their empty chair at the mess, their shitty lab gathering dust, the unbearable quiet of their absence. No.

Hange laughs. “Ok, that might be a bit risky! And it might not work, since you are always saying you wish I talked to you less. That would be letting you get off too easily, I think!”

“Exactly.” He says, shutting Stern’s door, checking the roof for leaks as the rain hammers down.

He supposes there must be lots of gossip in the Scouts. He’d probably have heard it himself by now, if he actually listened to that sort of talk. Oh, did you hear, Squad Leader Hange said Levi stares at The Captain with his mouth open. Levi ‘moons’, don’t you know? Over the man that brought him here. Levi paid for a whore with his blade because he is all soft and stupid for Erwin Smith. Can you believe that?

He’d have heard his name, surely? If people were saying things like that. Maybe not. He doesn’t care. Let them talk. It’s no crime. So then why did he lie to Hange? Just because he was scared they would tease him for it? For this weakness he has, this indulgence in his squad leader, who always says the right words in his smooth voice, who is tall and handsome, who has pretty eyes and white teeth and a big cock, and who has always treated Levi like an equal.

So many are dead. We’re crippled as a regiment. We have more important things to think about than who I want to fuck and why.

“That’s what I think, anyway! It’s very cool. You are a very interesting person, Levi.” 

Levi blinks at them, sighs. “I suppose that’s a compliment, coming from you. Anyone you deem as fascinating as a damn titan must be high in your estimations.”

Hange grins, all teeth. “You know me so well!”

000

Shadis gets back two days later. Erwin has been chained to his desk, having finally finished the death notices and taking it upon himself to get started on reconciling the budget. Shadis should have delegated this to an officer specifically assigned to this area of logistics, but he has neglected to in his cloud of post-expedition misery, and so Erwin has to pick up the slack so the entire regiment doesn’t trip over it. He hears Shadis shouting orders at a recruit by the stables, just visible from Erwin’s window - he’s been gone a while. Erwin was beginning to worry.

He gives him an hour to settle back in until he goes to his office.

He knocks and waits patiently. It is a few moments before Shadis’ voice calls him in; gruff and displeased. 

“Smith. What is it?”

“I see you are back, sir. That’s good.”

“Yes, yes, I’m back. Can’t a man visit his hometown after two weeks of successfully not dying?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Right. Well, then. What do you want?”

“I need your sign off on these, sir. And to go through the restock.”

Shadis sighs, snatches the papers, spreads them on his desk. The office is dusty with disuse. He has lost weight. And hair.

“This is disastrous.”

“It is within the projected margin of loss, sir.”

Shadis makes a disgusted noise. Erwin thinks that, were he not in his own office, he would have spat. 

“They’ll string us up for this, Erwin.”

“It is nothing we did not see coming. In fact, we held the outpost longer than initially expected.”

“And then ran from it with our tails between our legs the second the bastards knocked on the door.”

“The evacuation will have saved many lives. We could not hold out once the passage block was compromised.”

He doesn’t like being reasoned with, even if it is to soothe his own bruised ego. He looks at Erwin with more hate than ever these days, but mostly he just looks tired. 

He squints at the papers, looking closer, like Erwin feared he might.

“These look smaller than normal. Is this not accounting for the savings made on food and clothing for the dead?”

“Yes, that is accounted for.”

Shadis lifts his head, looks at Erwin with his small, sunken eyes, squints. His lips go tight.

“So where is the loss?”

“The loss is what I expect us to be down by when I reduce my independent pursuit of funding.”

“Reduce?”

“In hours, and in methods. I calculate that this is the most accurate figure we will be left with per month if I win sponsorship through public socialising only.”

“So galas? Parties?”

“Yes.”

“All the drink and dressing up and none of the work, then?”

“If by work you mean acquiring funds for the Survey Corps outside of my official hours, then yes. I won’t be doing that anymore.”

Shadis laughs, shortly, bitterly. “‘Outside of official hours’. You know there is no such thing. Especially for you.”

“Even I have a line, apparently.”

Shadis takes the paper, handles it roughly, sheets rustling as he collects them all together on his desk. 

“Yes it must be difficult. Being desired.” He mutters. There would be venom behind the words if they were not so pathetic.

“I do not see it as a compliment, sir.”

“No, of course you don’t. You’re young. You think you have principles.” He moves his books around - they haven’t been touched in weeks. Dust collects, billows, hovers in the air of the evening. 

“Half of Sina wants to fuck you, and that’s apparently a chore. As if I don’t get enough of it already, your promise, your destiny in leadership. People can’t wait for you to replace me. And then they ask after you and I have to sell you out like your secretary; yes he’ll go for dinner, no he’s not married, yes I’ll give you his name, his address, his word, whatever. Sick of it.” He doesn’t raise his voice as he lopes through his grievances.

If you are sick of selling me, imagine how sick I am of being sold.

“Are you saying you resent me for my looks, sir?” Erwin asks evenly, without malice or urgency, keeping his stance open.

“Watch it, Smith. I can still discipline you. You’re not in my shoes yet.” He snaps back, low and threatening. Erwin does not react.

“Apologies, sir. I am trying to understand your irritation.”

“My irritation is slashing a budget already in the red. We failed, Erwin. It will be a bitch to get funding after that. I needed your boost, that's all.”

“Do you not believe I have a valid complaint about the use of my time in these matters?”

“I think it is strange that you have never brought it up before.”

“I do not believe in unnecessarily complaining.”

“So you’ve reached your breaking point, is that it?” He says, patronisingly, as if Erwin is being ridiculous.

“I believe I am approaching it, yes.”

“And I am suggesting that maybe you should be more of a man and think of the bigger picture.” He says, phrasing it offhandedly. 

“The physical and mental toll of late nights and performing the appropriate role have been detrimental to my efficacy as a squad leader. I received complaints.”

“From who?”

“From members of my squad.”

“Huh.” Shadis walks over to his drinks cabinet, pours himself a glass of clear liquor. Erwin isn’t sure what it is. He swigs it. Erwin watches the skin on his throat and cheeks stretch as it burns on the swallow.

“Don’t suppose it would have been the Street Thug, now would it?”

“Please do not call him that.” Erwin says firmly, clearly. Shadis looks irritated by this.

“I’ll call him what he is, thank you captain. He spends too much time with you. He’s like a duckling that’s imprinted on the wrong mother.”

“He is as concerned for his squad leader as anyone else.”

Shadis sniffs, considers, drinks some more. Erwin thinks that Shadis, with his unromantic outlook, his cynical opinion of human nature, wouldn’t arrive at the correct conclusion. He wouldn’t think that Levi’s touch has reframed all others in Erwin’s mind, that tasting something real has turned him off anything false, that he could only do what needed to be done when he felt nothing, but he has been reconnected to his body, and he does not want to misuse it any longer. 

“If rich women wanted to fuck me, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Perhaps you would after five years, sir.”

Shadis gives him a one over, from the top of his neatly-parted head all the way to his boots, and rolls his eyes. 

“We probably only had a few more years in you, anyway. If the titans don’t get you, the stress will. No one would be interested if you weren’t all fresh and... blonde.” He says, like it disgusts him, like it is barely worth his time discussing.

Erwin thinks that it is not the color of Shadis’ hair that is making him so obviously frustrated. Perhaps more women of the Interior would want to be sweet to him if he listened to others, if he allowed tenderness, accounted for human fallibility, or was kind instead of cold. 

Or perhaps Erwin reminds him of that someone who always got the girl in his youth. Perhaps he is unhappily in love. Perhaps he does just envy Erwin’s looks. What a stupid thing to grow sour over.

“I think I have made my position clear. It was a voluntary duty I took up, and therefore I may voluntarily drop it.”

“Fine, fine. I can’t make you do anything so unofficial. It was making you tired, I could see that.” Shadis finishes his drink, sits down in his chair heavily, jaw tight. “It was you who suggested it, however. For the good of humanity…”

“It is for the good of humanity that I drop it. I am not at my best in the field when I do not feel in control of my body.”

Shadis sniffs again. There is a cold going round. He rubs his nose. “Fair enough. If you can live with it, knowing how tight things will be now, knowing how hard we have worked and how many steps back this reduced budget puts us, then that’s fine. Like you said: voluntary. It’s up to you.”

The fading light is unkind to Shadis. Erwin wonders if he has any children. He knows he doesn’t have a wife, a family, but a child he gave to someone else, perhaps. Brothels are not uncommon spots for Scouts to frequent. There is nothing fatherly in the lines of him. Erwin wonders if there ever was, if there was the potential for softness and the commandership sanded it off. Will he be the same, then? Will what few parts of Erwin that remain human endure after he takes on this burden? Or will he be full of bitterness and self-pity, forcing others to do his dirty work for him?

“I will come to collect the papers in the morning, sir.” Erwin says emotionlessly. When he’s almost at the door, Shadis twists the knife further.

“I really thought you would have seen it through to the end. Beating the titans seemed so important to you. It’s a shame.”

Erwin is facing away from him, so allows his expression of neutrality to drop for a second, replaced instead with anger. He sighs silently, keeping his shoulders straight.

He could say perhaps when you have given everything, you will know , or more accurately, your reserve of will ran out long before mine will, but instead, he nods, says nothing, leaves before his ire leaks out into the room.

He shuts the door with a reasonable click. He’s back in his thoughts again, embarrassed that a comment meant to rile him up from his insecure commander has somewhat succeeded. He used to be stronger. He used to do what was necessary irregardless of his own feelings. That is how he advanced, that is how he got to where he is today, on the cusp of leadership, closer to his dream than ever.

He thinks on it further on the way back to his office. He wants to see his squad - what is left of it - to see how they are coping, but he isn’t sure he has time. In attempting to gain his evenings back, he’s given himself more work, as he needs to find the budget elsewhere. He’ll have a shower first. A long one. There probably won’t be any hot water left at this time. 

Then he’ll think about it, and decide what to do.

000

The kids are still there. Levi’s more relieved than he hoped he’d be. He can’t keep caring like this, especially for strays.

“Mister, are you a Scout?”

He’s come in uniform today. He’s normally in civvies when he comes to town.

“Yeah, I am.” He tells the boy. He looks impressed.

“Did you go outside the Walls just now?”

“Not just now. We got back a few days ago.”

“What are the titans like?”

“Big and ugly.”

“Scary?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you give us things? Because a titan is going to eat you?”

“A titan is not going to eat me. I am too fast.”

“But you’re small!”

“Do you want this food or not?”

“Yes!” His sister rushes over, fills her little arms with the apples and bread Levi has brought. There is honey cake, too, that he bought from the bakery. It is too sweet for him. He thinks it would be nice if they grew up knowing the taste of it so it isn’t too sweet for them. 

“Thank you! I think it is cool that you are a Scout. I would like to fly around.”

“It gets boring after a while.”

He can’t muster cheery, even for the children. The boy looks put out by this, but at least he might not feel compelled to join the Scouts if he thinks he might get bored of flying. 

The rain has made them muddy. Levi gives them soap, the shitty stuff given to everyone in the barracks, but it will do the job. He explains to them the importance of hygiene successfully without losing his temper, and then heads back to HQ.

It’s drier today. Levi guesses it’s around five; late afternoon, with the sunlight slanting across the flat of the land. He walked, but he visits Stern anyway. It’s been a peaceful day. The first maybe-good-day since they got back, when he didn’t feel he was constantly fighting back the urge to scream, or to drift away entirely.

He is interrupted. It is Erwin. He looks surprised; he didn’t expect Levi to be here. They spend a few seconds just looking at each other, after what feels like years of separation.

Erwin blinks his face back to polite impassivity, and clears his throat.

“Good evening, Levi.”

“Yeah.” Levi turns to face him properly. “You alright? You’ve barely been out of your office the past few days.”

“Yes. I’m well, just busy. I’m sorry if I concerned you.”

Why so damn formal? Levi frowns. Erwin moves to saddle a horse. Not his expedition horse, one of the mounts they use to carry people in and out of town: less valuable, slower animals. Erwin tightens its girth, tugs on the bridle to check its tightness.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes. Into town.”

“Why?”

“I have orders from Shadis to negotiate a new deal with the blacksmith.”

“Huh. Why?”

“Because we need to pay less, and our demand is less. Because we have fewer soldiers.” He says simply, leading the horse out of the stable. Levi follows, keeps pace with him, watching his face carefully.

“Re-negotiating?”

“Yes.”

“You telling the truth, Erwin?”

“Of course.” He says, not looking at Levi. He’s not bad at lying, but he prefers the truth, and so now Levi knows what to look for. He lacks conviction with this one. Something sticky and anxious coats the inside of Levi’s mouth.

“I thought that was done with.”

Erwin slows, glances at Levi out of the corner of his eye, does a sort of double-take when he looks ahead, and then back again, like he can’t help it. On the second time his eyes stick there, on Levi’s face, and his expression goes a little grim. The even planes of Erwin’s face shift and change acutely with his emotions, when he allows them to, and Levi finds that he can pick up on them, and read them, better than ever. 

“You do not understand.” Erwin says, admitting it, voice slipping down a hill at the end of the sentence. Resigned. Defeated. Ashamed.

“No. I don’t fucking understand.” Levi growls. He can feel himself moving along the oh-so-familiar path from worry to anger, his favorite route, the easiest journey. 

You’ve a foul temper, brat. Such an angry little shit. So quick to throw your fists up. If you learn to swing ‘em, it might do you some good. 

“I have a responsibility to the Corps.”

“Then take yourself seriously. You’re going to lead us, aren’t you? How do you expect to lead like this?”

“I know what I am doing.”

“I don’t doubt that. Stupid fucking martyr.”

“This isn’t about me.”

It is. Everything is about you. It’s your story, and I’m stuck in it. 

They’ve stopped walking in the orchard, on the way to the gate. It’s barely an orchard; just a few, old apple trees, forming a canopy of knobbled, twisted branches overhead. The evening is quiet, peaceful. Levi could scream. 

He wants to implore Erwin to see reason, to beg him not to go back out into those huge houses with those vile people, let them use him and touch him and make him all empty in the eyes, like last time, when he was bad inside from the stress and the exertion and the lack of sleep and the constant pretending. He can’t think of the words, so he hits him instead.

He pulls his punch a bit, can’t bear to damage his stupid face, gets him square in the jaw, and it hurts his knuckles, striking the hard line of it. Erwin looks shocked. Good. He reels from the force of it, drops his horse’s reins, stumbles against its flank.

“Levi - “ Levi doesn’t give him space to recover. He lifts his leg, drives his shin against Erwin’s stomach, uses the element of surprise to kick Erwin's knees in and grab him by his shirt front, swinging him around and shoving him against the trunk of a tree. Erwin is winded, eyes wide, brows lowered in anger. His arm shoots out to grab Levi and Levi meets it in the air with his other hand, gripping his wrist, and they struggle for a minute, Erwin pushing up against his hold, Levi driving him back, biceps straining. Erwin’s big, but Levi is Humanity’s Strongest, after all.

“Stop this, Levi. Be sensible.”

“What are you doing ?! Listen to yourself, Erwin. What’s the fucking point?! Do you want to go back?! Do you like it after all?!” He’s shouting, snarling. He should calm down. 

“You know I don’t.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna make yourself miserable and tired all over again, after what we just went through, so that we have some nice new clothes to die in? So you can pull a shiny pair of boots off a dead recruit to give to me?!”

“I know what my responsibility is. I have to ensure the future of the Survey Corps. I will lead it. I must give everything to it, including my pride.”

“What about your mind, hm? You seem pretty eager to go back to being a useless drone, like last time.”

“I’ll be stronger.”

“Will you? You’re gonna risk your team, your sanity again based on that?"

Erwin surges forward, upsets Levi’s stance. Levi drops into a crouch, yanks Erwin’s legs from under him, follows him to the ground, wrestles with him there for a moment, against the base of the tree, until he has both his hands secured.

“Do you wish you’d never told me, captain? Do you wish you could just slip back into that space where you don’t feel, don’t react to what’s going on around you, are barely fucking human, just for some money? To chase a theory your father fucking died for?!”

The mention of his father unsettles something in Erwin’s face, and his eyes turn icy; a cold, hard surface above a blue plunge. 

“You cannot be greedy, Levi. I am nobody’s. I am everybody’s. I belong to the Scouts.” It’s a low blow in exchange for a low blow.

“Ha.” Levi spits his laugh into Erwin’s face. He was trying to keep Erwin safe and happy and here, and now he is fighting with him. If he could just... talk, just tell Erwin what he’s thinking, they wouldn’t argue like this. If he was just good with his words, with his feelings, he wouldn’t need to be such a fucking brute, such a thug, making things worse, making things ugly and violent like always. And Erwin had tried, Levi thinks, Erwin had tried to show him tenderness even though it’s difficult for him, touched him and held him against his chest, let him rest next to his heartbeat, and they were making progress, and the tightness was easing, and Levi has ruined it again. 

Maybe the pain shows on his face. Erwin’s eyes dart to his brow, relax from anger into concern, but only slightly. 

“This has got nothing to do with me.” Levi says at last.

“Then why do you care?”

“You’ll kill yourself doing this. Or worse, lose yourself. I know. I’ve seen it before, with someone else. Don’t make me see it again just because you can’t tell the commander ‘no’, just because you’re so desperate to prove yourself.”

Too much. Revealed too much. Shit. What will he think of me now?

And since when have I cared what he thinks of me?!

Levi’s knee is planted between Erwin’s legs, his other foot supporting him by Erwin’s hip, looming over him, holding his wrists even though Erwin has stopped struggling. It’s like being in the training forest again, shouting accusations at each other until the truth comes out. It’s like extracting a splinter that has burrowed deep into Levi’s skin, rotting, sore, on the brink of infection. He’ll have to bite his lip and dig it out, even if it makes him bleed, even if it makes his eyes water. 

“I never had this problem before.” Erwin says, softer, but with more bitterness. He blames Levi: that’s alright. Levi can take the blame.

“Do you regret telling me?”

“It would have happened anyway. It would have turned out this way, regardless.”

What does he mean ‘happened’? 

“Do you regret it, Erwin?” He asks again.

“No, Levi. I don’t regret it. I know you are right. I know that you care. It’s just...too much. As ever, I am in too deep to retreat now.”

I care, Levi thinks, somehow still with surprise, I care about him, and his happiness, and what his duty does to him. He is my squad leader. He is my friend.

“The cost is too high. You’re worth more in one piece; on either side of the Wall.”

Erwin’s breathing has returned to normal. Levi can feel it through his chest. He releases Erwin’s wrists, but doesn’t move from his position over him.

“Leave it.” He says. “Please.”

Erwin sighs. Something goes viscous in his eyes. Levi feels his shoulders tight. He is embarrassed. He’s probably fucking blushing. 

“Just leave it alone, Erwin. Let it be over.” His voice pitches lower. He holds his gaze, hoping that Erwin understands him, what he means, what he wants, what it is taking him to ask this.

“It isn’t that simple.”