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Chapter Text

"What the hell did you do to her?" he asked, bending before the young girl. She was small and skinny, her eyes glassy and dark and empty. They were fixed on Levi's face, and it made his stomach turn to look at them. They had brought him a corpse. A living fucking corpse. Typical.

Mikasa Ackerman was pretty. For a child. She had a round face, feathery black hair, and a slender body. However, there were mauve and sallow bruises crawling delicately across her dainty features, blood crusted on her cheeks, on her gaping, swollen lips, around her blackened eyelid, smeared across her forehead and the front of her dress. Her left arm looked awkward, bent at an angle that suggested it had been broken days ago.

The largest man spoke up. Levi didn't care for his name. He didn't care for any of them. They were a disappointment, and he was disgusted with every detail of this dealing. "She fought," the man said gruffly, shrugging. "It's not our fau—"

Levi's boot crashed into his jaw, sending him flying into the opposite wall. Levi looked at him, staring coldly as the man clutched at the side of his face that had rather painfully crunched against the solid concrete. Idiots, Levi thought as another one dove at him. With a flick of his wrist, a blade was in Levi's grasp, and the man's throat was opened like rain being expelled from the heavens. Only much messier. The blood went flying, coagulating for a short moment before bursting and splattering across the floor, flecks of it catching the poor beaten girl in the face. She had no reaction to this horror. She merely laid on the ground like a broken doll.

That's all she is, Levi thought, watching her without pity. A doll to be used in all different perverse ways. And I thought I couldn't go any lower. He might have laughed at it all, but in all honesty, he couldn't tell who was more pathetic. The broken child, or the man who was going to sell her? In truth, he had thought that he had been dealing with someone older. But if all was true, the mother had died defending the girl. The mother was all they needed, Levi thought, stepping on the corpse of the man he had just murdered to reach to one he had punted into a wall. His ribs gave a sweet sounding crunch as they collapsed beneath the weight of his soles digging into his back. They could have left the damn girl, and then maybe I wouldn't have cared at all what happened to the bitch. Levi was surprised at himself. He had not realized he'd had so much humanity left inside of him, to be so disgusted with himself and the entire dealing.

"Not your fault?" Levi flicked the blood off his blade, peering at it with a bored expression. "That might be true. I don't really know. Or care."

Levi saw the other one squirming. The one who was standing still, staring at Levi in shock and fear and awe. The man whose face was half collapsed, reached for something. Levi stomped his boot onto the man's hand, successfully giving each and every twitching bone a good cracking. He tilted his head back at the unscathed man, and he twisted his foot as if squashing an insect beneath his boot. The man howled, and the sound bounced off the corridor of the underground tunnel, where these types of dealings tended to take place.

"Tell me," Levi said, examining the blood caking his blade. His hand was smeared red. That bothered him. "Who broke her arm?"

The uninjured man opened his mouth, but all that came out was a faint choking noise. Levi's jaw set in irritation, and he closed his eyes. Why did he deal with these people. Why was he even here? Why did it have to be a goddamn child?

"Fine," Levi said. "Whatever." He sliced the throat of the howling man with one stroke, cutting deep and precise. He watched the blood as it tumbled in a strange sort of cascade, dribbling at first and then gushing, blooming red and bursting out and out in a flume. Levi drove his face down into the dirt with the heel of his boot, eyes narrowed in disgust. The man gurgled as he died. Part of him wished he had made the death more painful.

The uninjured one went running. Levi's nostrils flared in rage. He pushed himself forward, kicking up a great deal of dirt as he leapt, his body moving fast and hard, streaking across the air and catching the man with ease. His one slender arm hooked around the man's neck as Levi pushed off, latching himself onto the back of the dealer. He leaned very close, his red blade glinting in the lantern light.

"Get off!" the man shrieked squirming and twist, his arms batting at Levi's body. "Get-"

"Stop screeching, swine," Levi said, his knife slipping inside the man's mouth, the blade pressing to his tongue. "It's unflattering."

His screeching as the blade punctured the roof of his mouth was almost unbearable. Levi listened to his teeth crack, the noise somehow more haunting then the agonized screams. He yanked the blade out, and gave the man's throat a good slit for good measure. His screeching turned to choking, bloody mouth yawning open and moving with the sound of wet gasps, gurgling, and then he slumped forward. The blood pooled in the dirt, sinking into it and turning a rich vermillion hue, then a callous black.

Levi stood for a moment in the silence. His heart was ramming in his chest. What have I done? he thought as he looked around numbly. Bodies littered the ground, gooey flesh strewn across the wall, streaks of blood, pools congealing against the tightly packed dirt. The lantern flickered. The corpses cooled.

"What a mess," Levi murmured, staring at his bloody hands. He cocked his head back at Mikasa Ackerman, the dead doll. He stared at her little body, which had not budged since the dealers had thrown her down at his feet only ten minutes previous. He walked cautiously toward her and he saw something.

In her hollow black eyes, something sparked.

Fear.

Levi stopped. He looked down at himself, all unkempt clothing and splattered blood. In truth, they didn't look much different. Only she was a broken child, and he was a broken man. He scowled a little at the thought of it. But still, he was at a bit of a loss. What now? What could he possibly do with a child who had been brought to him to sell for her pretty face?

He wiped his blade on a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. Her suddenly very alert eyes were following his every movement. He gave a sniff, and examining his blade pensively. "Those bastards," Levi told her idly. "They stained my shirt. And your dress."

Mikasa Ackerman looked at him, and her busted lips parted wider in terror. He stared at her for a moment, and sheathed his knife without thought. "Can you speak?" he asked her.

She stared at him as if he was a titan come to gobble her up. That made him want to smack her, but he had no taste for harming the girl. He rubbed his hands against the handkerchief. "You better be worth it," Levi warned the child with a low voice. "You're worth a lot of money, you know."

Her lips trembled. He rolled his eyes. "Stand up," he barked.

She began to shake.

He resisted the urge to throttle her. "Stand up," he repeated in a low voice. "Or you can stay here with these corpses. I don't care, honestly, but you need to decide. Now."

Her trembling was distracting. He couldn't think with all her quaking, and he needed to think. He needed to think fast. What the hell was he going to do with her? I need to hide her, he thought. Hide her… where? With me? It sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

"Mikasa," Levi said. "Move your ass, or die. Those are your choices."

If she shook anymore, she might have snapped in half. Like a branch in the roar of a storm, she looked even more broken than when she began. But somehow, she sat herself upright. And she looked like she was about to start sobbing, tears welling up inside her dark eyes.

"Good," Levi said softly. He offered out his hand. Tentatively, with quaking fingers, she grasped it. Levi couldn't help the relief that stretched through him. And then he remembered he had no idea what to do with her, and he sighed. He yanked her roughly to her feet, watching her legs wobble as she swayed uneasily. She gained balance, but she was still trembling. "Walk with me."

She did. One foot after the other, her feet scraped across the ground mechanically. After a little while, her shaking stopped. Her mouth opened and closed, gaping and breathing heavily.

"W-who…?" she finally whispered. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm, scraping at the drying blood.

He stared ahead, and he debated or a moment. "Levi," he told her, leading her forward into the darkness.

She said nothing for a very long time. They walked, their feet making the softest of noises against the emptiness of the tunnel.

"Thank you… Levi," she said softly. Her voice echoed in the darkness. It was a dead whisper.

Levi paused for a moment, and looked down at her with a hard gaze.

"Don't," he said simply.

Chapter Text

"You're filthy," Levi stated, gritting his teeth as the girl shrunk back from him. She was staring at the bathtub as if it was the yawning mouth of a titan, jaw slack and teeth polished frighteningly white. Mikasa Ackerman had the eyes of a corpse as she gazed ahead, standing stolidly in the doorway as if stepping into the washroom would cause the floor to collapse beneath her. She was gripping her tattered, soiled dress with white knuckles. "Stop gawking. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just going to give you a bath. Unless you can bathe yourself."

Mikasa opened her mouth, her puffy lips parting for a moment as she stared up at him. For a moment she stood with her body as still as stone. She gingerly touched her broken arm, and closed her mouth without a sound. She closed her eyes and gave her head a little jerk, a shake that told him no. No she could not bathe herself.

"Do you have any living family?" Levi asked as he knelt beside the tub, letting it steadily fill up with water. It wasn't exactly warm water, but it ran from the old, beaten faucet in a clear flow, and that was really all he could be thankful for.

She said nothing. When he paused to look back at her, she was standing in the doorway, stock-still and staring with her dead black eyes fixed on his back. Her knuckles were white against her arm. She pressed her lips together thinly, and the silence pooled around them, pattering softly with only the rhythm of the bathtub filling as their backdrop.

Levi stood, flicking off the faucet. "I see," he said. She looked at him, and it was if her eyes saw a translucent man. "That's unfortunate. Now I actually have to keep you around."

Mikasa glanced away, her chin tucking to her chest as she let her hair curl around her face. Perhaps she was ashamed. He couldn't fathom why, but her hunched appearance gave off the feeling of uncertainty.

"Do what I say," Levi demanded, "and there won't be any issues. You can stay here, you can leave. It's your choice, and I honestly couldn't care less, but for right now this is my home. So your skinny ass is getting a bath before you track in lice."

Mikasa stood in the doorway, her eyes growing wide as he stepped toward her. For a moment Levi thought she would run, but as her body grew taut, she seemed to resign herself.

"Oh," she said. And that was the last thing to leave her mouth for the rest of the evening.

He had to help her out of her ruined dress, and he could sense that her broken arm was giving her a great deal of pain. She favored her right side, but she gave no inkling of pain. Until he looked into her dead black eyes, and he saw tears swirling within them. It made them look swampy and sad.

He scrubbed at her back with soap, watching as she sunk her body into the sudsy water. Her knees were hugged to her chest, and her hair was hanging limply around her shoulders in twisted, inky strands. He didn't think that making conversation would be appropriate, nor did he care to upset the silence as he worked at cleaning the dirt and blood from the tiny girl.

In the end he counted twenty seven bruises, nine minor cuts, two half-healed gashes, and one broken bone. He was careful not to harm her throughout the bathing process, and he also took great care not to actually touch her skin to skin. When he did touch her, he often just pressed a cloth between his palm and her flesh. She was uncomfortable enough, and after what she had just been through, he was aware of how everything he did was leaving a horrible stain on her perception of him.

However, that didn't stop him from bathing her. Because like fuck he was letting her sit around with speckles of blood marring her face.

"Here," Levi said, handing her the bar of soap. She took it in her uninjured hand, and gave a soft gasp as it slipped through her skinny fingers when she closed her fist around it. The bar flew into the air, and plopped into the water with a small splash, spitting up a few bubbles and murky droplets. The grime from Mikasa's body had turned the water a hazy color, like the hue of cold tea. She stared for a moment at the water, her swollen lips parting. Her dark eyes darted up to his face in terror.

"What?" Levi asked. He studied her face for a moment, and exhaled sharply through his nose. "I'm not going to yell at you, stupid girl. Just get the bar."

She looked down, her eyes widening for a short moment as she reached with her uninjured arm and felt around the bottom of the tub. Levi watched her without interest, and he carefully pushed back her damp black hair. The back of her neck had some dirt clinging to it, and some dried blood flaking against against her protruding bones.

When she finally got the soap after minutes of fumbling with the slippery thing, she offered it back up to him with hunched shoulders and a bowed head.

"I gave it to you, didn't I?" Levi had to remind himself not to get angry at the girl. "You have one good arm. Put it to use."

She stiffened as if he had slapped her. He dipped his cloth into the water as she stared down at the soap, and cautiously scrubbed at the scum caked to her skin. After a few moments of doing so, she followed the suit and began to rub the soap against her knee. With her help, he was able to get her clean much faster. And he was strangely content with this accomplishment. There was a sense of peace as he motioned her to stand, and he draped a downy towel around her emaciated body. The water swished and spat in objection as he scooped her from its grasp and plopped her down on the dull wooden floor. He tightened the towel around her so that all he could see of her were her bony legs, shuffling feet, and the top half of her head. Her dark eyes peeked out from behind the scraggly curtain of damp black hair, and they watched Levi with something else. Something alive and awed sparked behind the murky gaze. She stared at his back acutely as he turned to pull the plug on the tub drain.

For a moment he stood watching the brown tinted water gush and rush, swirling around and around as the drain sucked at it hungrily, slurping the dirty contents of the tub into oblivion. Through the sounds of the drain gulping, he had the urge to speak to the girl. The words were soft on his tongue, and they sat heavily in mouth. "See?" he almost said. "That wasn't so bad."

He swallowed the words like a mouthful of salt, and said instead, "Wait here."

She watched him leave the room without comment. In fact, she merely buried her lips deeper into the fluffy fabric of the towel, allowing her body to be swallowed by the feathery material. He walked to his room without much thought, moving straight to his wardrobe and swinging it open. His lone window was shuttered, but he could hear the soft patter of rain from outside. He stood for a moment, his fingers curling around the wooden doors of his wardrobe, and he stared ahead at nothing.

What the hell am I doing? he wondered.

He lived in a small house on the eastern side of Yalkell. He had three rooms, the bathroom, his bedroom, and the living room with a kitchenette. Each room was rather small and cramped, featuring only what was needed. And he had no idea how to deal with a child, let alone provide for one. Levi wasn't exactly impoverished— he knew very well how to make money fast. But children needed more nourishment than he could give. He'd observed families from afar, and he had his own hazy memories to add to it. Children were needy creatures, desperate and whiny and clingy. Food was not their main concern, though by all means it should be. Children needed comfort and stability, and worst of all they needed love. Compassion, or some contrived bullshit like that. And Levi was the absolute worst person to tend to a child's needs.

He gathered up a pair of slacks and a shirt, sifting through his clothing to try and find undergarments that might fit the scrawny girl. Once he did, he slammed the wardrobe shut and spun on his heel. He knew there was no way he could hide Mikasa. Perhaps if her features were not so distinct he could have sheered her hair and passed her off as an errand boy to lead his employers off her trail, but it was impossible. He would have to face them sooner or later, and either they would take her from him, or he would have her permanently in his grasp. Both scenarios left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Here." Levi set down the clothing on the floor, and he stood up straight to look down at Mikasa. She had not budged since he had left the room, and there was a small puddle of water pooling on the floor beneath her. She stared at the clothes for a few moments, her stare blank and inscrutable. "I'm not helping you put them on. You can still function with one arm, so you will do this by yourself. Come to me when you're done."

He left her there, standing in shock with a fluffy towel wrapped tightly around her slightly trembling body. He was distracted by his own thoughts, so he didn't dwell on it. Could he sell her? He wasn't sure if he had the heart for it. And so he weighed his options, and found that he had no choice but to keep her. Or at the very least shelter her until he found some other option. He would meet with his employers when they called upon him and admit to his indiscretions.

Let them try and take her from me, Levi thought, setting the first aid kit down on his living room table. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his folded hands to his lips as he lost himself in thought. We'll see just how weak the pigs truly are.

It took Mikasa around ten minutes to dress herself. She appeared in the doorway with her damp black hair swirling across the collar of his white button down, leaving wet gray patches around her shoulders. The slacks were black, and a tad too long, pooling around her ankles while the waistline hung precariously low. Still, they seemed to fit enough that they stayed up, and that was good enough for him. She was holding her soiled dress tightly, hugging it to her chest with her head bowed low.

"Give me that," Levi said, standing and moving toward her. She let him snatch it without comment, and he noticed that she had only buttoned three buttons of the shirt. Of course, she had done it one handed, so he couldn't be too bothered by it. Levi looked at the crumpled white dress, stained from blood and dirt amongst other foulness. His nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned away from the girl, tossing the dress into the garbage bin. She visibly jolted at that, but she bowed her head so he couldn't see her expression. He felt momentarily guilty for it, but the sting passed quickly. "I'll buy you another one."

She gave no hint that she cared beyond that point. So he motioned her toward the couch, carefully tending to her arm. He made her a makeshift splint, and then set her arm into a sling. He didn't know how long it would take to heal, but he figured at the very least he could save her some time and pain. She was very quiet, and very still, as if she had turned to stone as she sat. When he was done with her arm, he tended to her face.

"Head up."

She did exactly what she was told. It made him wonder if she was so compliant to the men who had kidnapped her. If so, he found himself enraged that they had hurt her. But he kept himself as calm as he could, bandaging the cuts on the girl's face, and pulling back for a few moments to peer at her.

He said nothing as he stood up, moving to the stove. He could feel her staring as he prepared his kettle. He set up two cups, busying himself to keep his mind off how complicated he had just made things for himself. It was definitely possible that his reputation would be a little sullied after this incident. Who would want to deal with a man who might kill them and steal their goods? Yes, there was a fair chance he had royally fucked up his own operations. But he had to tell himself it was worth it to protect the girl.

Besides. She was so quiet, it was as if she wasn't even there.

"Here," Levi said, setting a cup of tea on the table before the girl. He took to sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking up his cup with his hand all but covering the top of it, and taking a sip. It burnt his tongue, but he ignored the sting and instead focused on Mikasa's face. She was studying him with fright in her face. She doesn't know if she trusts me, Levi thought, setting his cup down. Not as stupid as I thought, huh, girl?

"It's not poisoned," Levi said, staring at her. "Go on. Drink up, girl."

She quickly snatched the cup as if he'd struck her back, her arm stretching out and grasping the handle. He noticed how her skinny wrist shook as she brought the cup to her lips, taking a tentative sip. She pulled back immediately, her eyes snapping closed for a few moments. Her hand began to shake so badly that the tea sloshed, almost spilling into her lap. He swiftly snatched the cup from her.

"Hold it like this," Levi said, holding out the cup in his crane-like grip. "It's easier."

He wasn't sure if that was true. It was certainly easier for him— habit had formed him, and he held his cup the way he wished. For the girl, though, perhaps it wasn't. She didn't object though. She drank her tea in silence, mimicking his hold on the cup, and watching him with swampy black eyes.

He didn't know what to say. He was a little lost in how to talk to her. He saw no point in coddling her, or speaking softly. She knew how volatile he could be, so there was no point to it. He drank his tea with his eyes never leaving hers. She's too quiet, Levi realized. Was he doing something wrong? Probably. He honestly never dealt with children when he didn't have to.

"How old are you, Mikasa?" Levi asked, looking down into his empty teacup.

She gave no reply. When he looked up at her again, he noticed her eyes were drooping. The warmth of the tea must have swayed her body. He sat in silence for a few moments, watching as she began to slump a little more. Ten minutes later, she was curled on his couch, shallow breaths indicating her slumber. He took great care to not wake her as he picked up her tiny body.

Levi wouldn't use the word gentle to describe himself. As in, never ever would he fucking describe himself as gentle. So the best word he could use to describe the sequence of putting Mikasa Ackerman to bed would be awkward. He kicked his door open, blinking as the knob smacked against the wall. He froze at the jolting sound, but Mikasa did not awake, nor did she stir. It seemed exhaustion had crept up on her. He set her down on his bed as gingerly as he could, and gritted his teeth when she almost rolled off. He tossed a blanket on top of her, taking a quick step back in apprehension. When she didn't wake up, he took a little more care in straightening the blanket out.

He closed the door behind him, and stood for a moment with his back pressing to the wood.

"Shit," he said, closing his eyes. He was well aware of how much trouble he had just heaped onto himself.

Chapter Text

Her dreams were brimming with blood. When she awoke, she could taste it on her tongue, acrid and burning intensely. She breathed in, her thoughts roving wildly, escaping into the mindless rush of dreams, melting into a maelstrom of lilting screams. Mikasa! she heard, the sound fluctuating and spinning, breaking apart and bursting into a wet, shaky sound. Run! Hurry, Mikasa! There was something piercing about the voice. It clung to her like a vapor, a wisp singing in her ear, caressing her cheeks.

She was lying on a bed. Her reaction was a bit delayed, but after a few moments of staring at her arm in a sling, she bolted up straight. A blanket crumpled into her lap, and she stared at it for a moment, her heart pounding hard in her chest. The room was small, nothing but a bed and a wardrobe and a small nightstand. Sunlight trickled in through the shuttered window, sending fragments of broken rays skittering across the wooden floor. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was.

After recalling Levi's impromptu rescue of her, she sat on the bed for a moment and stared. She simply had no idea what to do now. For weeks she'd been trying to escape the men who had kidnapped her, and eventually she had just… stopped. She couldn't remember when. It had been a slow, agonizing process of completely obliterating her willpower.

She pushed back the blanket, testing the softness of it with the tips of her fingers. The fabric was so downy it stung, swallowing up her fingertips in a tickle of fibers against callused skin. She stared for a moment, her eyes going wide in confusion. She didn't know how to feel. Fear was toiling inside her stomach, but so was relief and awe and confusion. There was something inside her, a fist that clenched her gut and refused to let go. She was so lost, she couldn't possibly make sense of her situation.

She found a dress sitting at the foot of the bed.

It was red. It was red and pretty, laying out in a way that suggested there had been a great deal of care into flattening out any wrinkle. She touched it, ran her fingers across the airy fabric, giving the raised embroidery a good stroke before she sat back and blinked. There were flowers stitched into the collar, trailing down the front of the dress and spilling into a spattering across the skirt. She bit her lip, wincing in pain at the sensation of her teeth tearing into broken skin.

It looks too pretty, Mikasa thought, dropping her hand into her lap. It can't be for me, can it? And even if it was so… she didn't trust this kindness. She desperately wanted to, but there was a fear gnawing inside of her, and it refused to release her. After a few minutes of staring at the dress, she pushed herself from the bed, shuddering as her bare feet scraped across the wooden floor.

She fumbled with the doorknob for a moment, before it creaked open. She stared at it with wide eyes, and tentatively peered out. There was no one immediately standing there. I can run, she thought numbly. Oh. I can run if I want. I can go home. The thought fueled her. It roared into awakening, a bursting spark that burned inside her heart and consumed her senses. She stepped out of the room, her feet moving mechanically across the floor. They were cracked and aching, but she ignored it all as she walked in utter silence across the room. Her eyes were on the front door. Her heart was drumming against her ribs relentlessly, taunting her and bursting with apprehension and longing. She could almost smell the grass and trees, feel the wind caress her skin. The wafting flowery smell of her mother's hair burnt her nose.

Mikasa grasped the doorknob, and it felt cold in her palm. Ice burning into her flesh, and she twisted it with wide eyes. Home, she thought dazedly. I can go home…

The moment the door cracked open, a cold voice struck her spine.

"Where the hell are you going?"

She bit back a gasp, her eyes going big and horrified inside her skull. Her mouth was parted open as her knees wobbled pitifully. The doorknob jostled beneath her trembling fist. Her broken arm throbbed painfully, and her heartbeat was screeching at her, thundering and threatening to rip her apart from the inside. She imagined bones snapping, the image of her body crumpled on the floor with her chest bursting, and her ribs yawning open.

She stood in shock. Her lips trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. Home, she thought desperately. I'm going home, and you can't stop me!

Her hand gave a slight jerk. The wooden door clicked closed.

She stood there for a minute, before she turned around. He was standing with a bowl in his hands, and there was steam rising from its contents. Mikasa felt her stomach give an involuntary shudder, a great snarling moan drifting from it. She pressed her hand to it, pressing her lips together in spite of the pain. She looked down at the floor, at Levi's trousers that were pooling over her feet in a ripple of dark fabric.

"Are you staying?" Levi asked. His expression remained the same. Mikasa was uncertain, because his face never seemed to change. It was making her nervous. "What's with that face? All I did was ask you a fucking question."

Her eyes widened, and she recoiled at his words. She heard him sigh, and when she looked up she saw him set down the bowl on the table. "Here," he said. And that was all. She swallowed her fears, and looked up at him in shock. The tears were drying in her eyes. She silently crept to the table, standing over the bowl and gaping a little. It was nothing but a bowl full of porridge, but it was more substantial than anything she'd eaten in weeks.

She knelt down, and took the spoon in her hand, scooping up a steaming spoonful of oats. She stared at it for a few moments, keenly aware of his scrutiny, and then she closed her mouth around it. It scorched her tongue enough to bring tears back into her eyes, but she swallowed it anyway as her stomach grumbled in satisfaction.

"If you don't like it," Levi said, his voice the usual low, level cadence, "I have some bread and jam—"

She didn't hear the rest of his words, because she was shoveling the porridge into her mouth so fast that it dribbled down her chin, burning the skin off the roof of her mouth and sending her into an odd sort of shock. She couldn't stop eating, and it was a little startling because she honestly hadn't realized how starving she was. Sure, she had been hungry and weak, but she hadn't noticed just how much so.

"Slow down," Levi commanded, snatching her wrist before she could swallow another bite. He wiped at her chin with a cloth, and she flushed with embarrassment. "You're eating like a pig. Stop it."

"Oh," she mumbled softly as the cloth rubbed against her busted lips.

"Yes," Levi said, folding the cloth up and setting it aside. "Oh. Did those pieces of scum feed you at all, Mikasa?"

She looked down at her bowl, and shrugged. She pushed the oats around for a few moments, and then began to eat again. This time she made sure to take small, slow portions. She didn't know what to say. She focused on eating, and staring ahead of her vacantly. Levi continued to watch her with his slim eyes narrowing slightly.

Minutes passed. She finished the porridge, and picked up the bowl, rising to her feet and looking around the room. She spotted the sink and wasted no time in taking the bowl to it, running the water so it'd wash out the smear of oatmeal crusting on the bottom.

"Wash your hand," Levi said.

She blinked for a moment, and obliged without comment.

When she was done, she turned back to Levi. He was studying her with a blank face, and she bowed her head, pressing her back to the sink.

"Do you not like the dress?"

She looked up at him sharply, her mouth falling open in shock. "I…" she gasped, her eyes snapping wide. "Oh. That was… mine?"

"Yeah." He stared at her, and she sunk into herself. "What? Did you think that thing was mine?"

"No!" Mikasa gasped, pressing her hand to her lips and shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I thought…" She didn't want to say it. She closed her eyes.

"Don't speak with your hand over your mouth," Levi sighed.

"Sorry." She dropped her arm. "I thought… you might, um…" She blinked up at him. "Have a… a Mrs. Levi… maybe?"

He gave her a very long, very vacant stare.

"No."

She felt her cheeks burning, and she stared at him with a parted mouth. "Oh," she said faintly.

Levi shook his head. They stood for a few moments awkwardly, the silence spilling over them and sloshing at their feet. Mikasa was still unsure of him. She wanted to be thankful, but he scared her. His eyes were cold, and his face was hard and inscrutable, and she simply couldn't fathom him. He saved me, she thought. I shouldn't be scared of him. But she was.

"Get dressed," Levi said, spinning away from her. "We're going out."

"Huh?" Mikasa blurted.

"Out." He looked back at her, his eyes sharp. "If you hate the dress that much, I'll buy you another one."

"But…" Mikasa twisted the long sleeve of her shirt nervously. "Wasn't that expensive…?"

"I have connections."

What does that mean? she thought. "I don't need another dress," Mikasa said quietly.

"Then go put it on. I have things to do, and you're putting yourself to good use— that is, if you're staying."

She stood rigidly. Her eyes traveled to the door, and she stared at it with despair creeping inside of her. Home, she thought glumly. What home? The sinking realization that she had no home to return to choked her. She lurched toward the bedroom door, stumbling over the loose trousers, and she swung the door open. Her throat was constricting, and the tears had welled over, glistening on her cheeks. She froze for a moment, words catching in her throat. They stung sharply, puncturing her like glass as she swallowed them down.

I'll do what I'm told, she thought, shutting the door behind her. She felt a little numb as she reached for the dress, her fingers fumbling at the fabric. Tears were drying on her cheeks. If I can't thank him, the least I can do is be as little a burden as possible. And so she struggled with the process of undressing herself.

When she exited the room again, she was clutching the sling for her broken arm. She stood for a moment with her head bowed, feeling awkward as his cold eyes assessed her appearance. The red dress fit her fine, feeling light and flowing as it wavered around her calves. She looked up when she heard Levi step closer to her, and she found herself frozen in shock as he took the sling from her hand.

He said nothing as he reapplied the sling, his fingers quick and meticulous, but careful all the same to not hurt her. She stared up at his face, searching it wildly for any sign of emotion. Some form of compassion. It was all she needed, truly, just some sign that her gut was wrong. That she shouldn't be scared of him. But his expression was impassive, and though she was thankful to him for everything, it was hard to grasp him. She couldn't link him to many adjectives, except for a few negative ones.

"Tell me if it's too tight," Levi said, his voice low as he stepped back from her.

Mikasa pressed her fingers to the sling, the fabric cool to the touch. She shook her head fast. She tried to catch what the lowness of his voice signified. She knew it meant something. She could feel it graze her skin, the words gathering on her cheeks and melting slowly. She realized then, that there was something positive about Levi. The low tone was not a lowering of the pitch of his voice. It was the lowering of the volume.

He'd spoken softly to her. Soft.

In a burst of childish curiosity, Mikasa reached out. The thing that compelled her was her own miserable mind, and a strange twinge in her heart that begged for some relief. There was an itching inside her, an emotion she couldn't quell, and she gave into it. The moment her fingers brushed Levi's palm, she noticed his stature visibly changed. If only for half a moment, Mikasa could see Levi go rigid in shock.

To Mikasa's bitter disappointment, Levi's hand was not soft at all. It was callused and cold, bony and raw and scratchy. Her fingers were swallowed up by the closing palm, and she swallowed a squeak as his skin dug into hers. She could feel his eyes on her face, and it felt like a slap as she hung her head a little in shame. Her face felt warm from embarrassment.

And then he dragged her forward.

"Come on," Levi said. "Move fast. Stick by my side. If anyone who isn't me touches you, I want you to kick him in the balls, and then scream. Got it?"

In truth, she had no idea what he meant by "kick them in the balls", but she gave a phlegmatic, "Yes, Mr. Levi."

He gave her a look. "Levi," he corrected. "Don't be fucking with my name, girl."

"Sorry," Mikasa said, her voice quiet, "Levi."

He gave a nod of what she could only assume was approval, and he dragged her forward again. Outside, the world was acrid. Humidity hit her hard, caking to her skin as she moved swiftly in time with Levi's steps. The air tasted distinctly of post-rain haze, and it left her lethargic and weighed down. The town she was in was bustling, which was unfamiliar to a girl who spent the majority of her life in the mountains. She found herself hanging close to Levi's side out of pure shock and unfamiliarity. She was startled and awed.

The roads twisted like broken limbs, running into small alleys and alcoves. Shops lined the streets, painted wooden signs swinging against the subtle breeze. With every sharp turn, Mikasa found herself all but hugging Levi's side while trying to avoid bumping into passersby. He gave no sign that he minded, but she forced herself to calm anyway.

They entered a tavern on their fifth turn, a building of yellow and brown wood that stood large and rickety, like an old, rotting tree. The barmaid saw Levi, and her eyes widened.

"Oh my," gasped the woman. She wasn't old by any means, but to Mikasa she looked ancient and colossal. She towered over Levi, and thus Mikasa was unbearably small in comparison. "You're early, aren't you?"

"Something came up," Levi said. The woman's eyes fell on Mikasa, blue and searching. They moved to her hand in Levi's grasp, and in reaction they grew wide with alarm.

"And who's this?" the woman asked, hiding her shock with a sweet smile. Mikasa knew better.

"Mikasa Ackerman," Levi said.

"Pretty name," the woman said, smiling gently at Mikasa. "How old are you, sweetheart?"

Mikasa stood for a moment in silence. The question seemed to bounce off her. She stared at the woman for a moment, before she drew her attention elsewhere. There was no one else in the tavern, which Mikasa thought a little peculiar. She looked up at Levi when she felt his eyes on her. He was giving her a look. She couldn't decipher what it meant, as it looked exactly the same as all his other looks.

She turned back to the woman, and she gave her a long look. Mikasa waited until the woman's sweet expression faltered before she answered.

"Nine," Mikasa said.

The woman looked at her, her mouth parting a little. "Nine?" she said. "Well. That's a very good age."

"Stop coddling her, Schatz," Levi said. "She's not stupid. She can see right through you."

The woman's eyes flashed. "Oh?" the woman asked. Her sharp blue eyes grew cold, and Mikasa couldn't find it in her to be shocked. "Is that so? Okay, then, Mikasa, tell me what you see, if you're so smart."

Mikasa stiffened, and she found herself clenching Levi's hand for support. He stared at Schatz, and tilted his head. "Don't patronize her, either," he said. "Bitch at me all you want, Schatz. Just don't talk to Mikasa like she's inferior to you because she's a child."

"Whatever," Schatz said, her eyes rolling. "Is there something you needed?"

"A meeting place," Levi said. He let go of Mikasa's hand, and after that it was left to linger sadly in midair. Cold and drooping, like a wilting flower, and it fell to her side limply. She twisted her red sleeve around her palm, clenching and unclenching the fabric nervously. "Tonight, preferably with a crowd."

"Witnesses," Schatz said. She leaned against the bar, rest her cheek against her fist. Her face was slim, sort of splotchy and freckled, with a pinched nose and beady eyes. Her hair fell limply at the nape of her neck in a black ponytail. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'll see who I can scrounge up, but I can't promise much."

"I have a list," Levi said, retrieving a neatly folded, faded bit of parchment from his pocket. He set it down on the bar, his index finger resting at the paper's corner. He slid it across the surface of the counter to Schatz, who watched with a suddenly bored expression. Mikasa decided she was scary too. Too many faces, Mikasa thought. Nothing she says or does seems real. At least with Levi there was a constant state of apathy that clung to his features.

Schatz whistled. "Shit." She had unfolded the paper and smoothed out the creases across the countertop. "Who are all these people?"

"Just a few of the countless many bastards who owe me some debts." Levi shrugged. Mikasa stared at his back, a series of questions bubbling inside of her chest.

"You don't see anything wrong with that statement, do you?" Schatz studied Levi's face, and then sighed when she got no response. "Okay, okay. I'll call on these folks, then. Tonight, you said?"

"Yeah." He turned away from Schatz, and he jerked his chin at Mikasa. A signal to follow. She moved quickly to his side, twisting her face to look back at the woman. She was busy studying the list, and did not look up. She did, however, give a little wave.

"See you later, Levi."

When they were back on the streets amongst the hustle and bustle of noon, Mikasa found herself clinging to Levi once more. She had a feeling of eyes watching her back, but when she turned her face around, she saw no one. The chattering of people trickling through the streets made her anxious, and she blinked up at everyone who passed her by.

"Who was that?" Mikasa asked suddenly. Quietly. Her voice was barely audible above the din around them.

Levi wasn't holding her hand anymore, but he kept her close enough that she felt secure. He looked down at her for a moment, his small eyes searching her face. She felt a little foolish to ask, but she was curious. She looked up at Levi with her eyes matching his. She felt dull and tired, but she kept walking in time with him anyway. She couldn't do anything else, could she? She was lost amongst her own hazy thoughts, and it worried her.

"Greta Schatz," Levi said in his bored voice. "A nosy bitch. But she's trustworthy enough." He turned his face toward the road again. "If you're ever in trouble, and I'm not there, go to her. She doesn't hate me so much that she'd leave you to the streets."

"Why do you trust her?" Mikasa asked. The words were pooling inside of her mouth, spilling from her lips in a cascade of awkward curiosity. She couldn't keep it to herself any longer, and the bubbling questions all seemed to pop at once, filling her with unease and confusion.

"Why do you want to know?"

Mikasa stared ahead of her, her shoulders slumping. Her left arm gave a shudder of pain, but she ignored it. "She just seems like she knows you," Mikasa said quietly. She stopped for a moment, and hung back as she stared at Levi. She watched his body jolt to a stop, and he looked back at her sharply. It seemed he hadn't expected her to halt. Did that upset him? She couldn't tell. His face was still the same as it always was. It didn't bother her as much now that she was used to it, though.

"What?" Levi asked. When Mikasa didn't answer, he turned his body completely around, and he stood with his chin rising ever so slightly. He stared down his nose at her, and she could see his eyebrows knitting together. "What the hell is wrong now?"

"You don't trust me," Mikasa said. "Do you?"

That left him quiet for a few moments. Between their words the sounds of laughter and feet clapping against stone filled the humid air. Clouds burst and tumbled overhead, knitting together and parting. Sunshine glimmered and faded for a short moment before rays smashed through the curtain of gray and white waves, and filled the air with a singing gold glow.

"Why," Levi said stolidly, "the hell would I trust you?"

Mikasa had no real answer for that. She stood with her body rigid, her bones feeling frozen inside of her muscles, and she stared at him with a dull gaze. She couldn't say she was surprised. She found herself twisting the sleeve of her dress again, and she could feel sweat pricking at the small of her back.

"Why did you save me?" Mikasa asked in a quiet voice. "I don't understand. Why help me? Why…"

Levi stared at her, and she stared back, the words drying up on her tongue. She hunched a little as it seemed to smack her how bold she was being. She didn't want him to cast her out. She had no home to go back to, and he was the only person in the world who she had to cling to. And Mikasa needed to know now. Did Levi truly care?

He grabbed her by the right arm, and he yanked her forward. She gave a little gasp, her eyes flashing wide as he dragged her down the street. She couldn't speak, for her heart had jumped into her throat, and now she felt as if her lungs were constricting. The pressure was baffling, and she felt tears in her eyes— tears that had never quite disappeared.

"What a stupid question," Levi said, his voice a soft sort of grumble. He squeezed her bicep, and then shoved her into a narrow alley. Her back smacked against a stone wall, and Mikasa stared up at him with fear swallowing her up. He kept himself at as much distance as the skinny back-road would allow, and she heard him inhale sharply through his nose. Was he angry? She couldn't tell. "Why did I save you? You really want to know?"

"Yes," Mikasa said, her voice reedy and pleading.

Levi pressed his back to the opposite wall, his eyes giving a strange sort of glint. He leaned with his legs outstretched, ankles crossed as he balanced on his heels. She watched him with widening eyes as he lifted his head, letting it loll a little to the side. She could see the corners of his lips twitching. It startled her into silence, and she shrunk against her own wall. The shadows of the alley bathed their features, turning them to small, hunched silhouettes.

"Because you were pathetic," Levi said, his voice rising in a strange, brisk breath of air. "And because you don't deserve the fate those swine picked out for you."

"What…" Mikasa looked up at him with wonder in her eyes. "What would you have done? If you did think I deserved that fate?"

He watched her for a few moments with his hollow blue eyes. She felt as though he could see right through her, read her very features and extract the fearful thoughts beneath them. Levi had a stony face, but a soft one. His eyes were small and dull in the hollows of his head, perpetually tired and searching. His hair was dark, and it fell limply around his ears. For a minute he stared, his demeanor stunningly cold.

"I would have sold you," Levi said. Mikasa closed her eyes. The words felt like a lash upon her back, but she had asked for it. "I wouldn't have thought twice about it. I've done it before. I've sold people, stolen from people, murdered people for petty reasons." His voice sounded dark, like there were cobwebs clinging to his throat. His words were soft. "And what does that say about me, Mikasa?"

The words hung in the air loftily. They froze for a moment, stinging her heart like an icy kiss. And then, they melted on her cheeks, hot and salty and wounding her like a backhand.

"That… that you're a bad person," Mikasa whispered, her lower lip trembling. She wiped at her cheeks quickly with her sleeve. "But… I don't think you are."

It was a revelation to her as well. She saw his eyes flash with something. And she thought, maybe, that he wasn't so apathetic after all.

"Then you must be fucking stupid," Levi said, folding his arms across his chest. "Just because I saved one life, it doesn't make all the other shit I've done any less awful. You're just deluding yourself, girl."

"No," Mikasa said. "I'm not wrong."

She felt certain. The weight of this certainty clung to her blissfully, and she wished it could make her feel better.

"You're so sure of yourself," Levi said. His eyes narrowed. "When the fact is, you haven't even known me a day."

"You saved me," Mikasa said quietly. "You're still saving me. That means you're good to me." She bowed her head, her hair sliding from her shoulders and framing her face in a soft flutter of black. "And I trust you."

Her fear of him had melted away on the steady walk on sole smoothed stones. Mikasa was still stunned and confused and scared, but it was not Levi's fault. She was undeniably thankful to him for everything he had done for her, and his confession meant little to her now. She had already made up her mind. Home was gone now, lost amongst a pool of blood and a ricochet of a voice, soft and screeching in the barren landscapes of her memory.

Levi's stare was different this time. She could hardly decipher it, but she was certain that it was different. She could feel it warm her chest as he held out his callused, bony hand. She took it almost eagerly.

Soft, she thought happily as they stepped back out into the street. His eyes are soft.

Chapter Text

Mikasa had tried to refuse the bed numerous times, but Levi would hear none of it. He squashed any sort of objections out of her, and slept on the couch as if it meant nothing. She tried to compromise. Why not buy another bed? It would be cramped, but the bedroom could fit a small cot.

When she'd suggested it, Levi had tilted his head to look at her, his small eyes glinting.

"You have the money for that?" Levi asked in his dull tone. "And where are you hiding it? Up your ass?"

Mikasa had gone silent from embarrassment, and for a little while it had seemed like Levi was rethinking his comment. He didn't say anything more on the topic, though, and Mikasa let it die with a heavy heart. I don't need this bed, she thought miserably at night. It's not mine, it's Levi's, and he should be sleeping here. I'd be happier on the couch anyway. She tried to make it up to him in different ways. She took extra care on the streets to memorize all the faces he told her to.

"That one there," Levi would said, his chin lifting in a slight gesture. "Gray hair, brown shirt. Karl Herbst. Crooked bastard. Sold him a sixteen year old boy last year. I don't deal with him anymore, but maybe he was the one who wanted you."

He sometimes talked about her kidnapping like that. Offhanded and nonchalant. Maybe he was the one who wanted you. As if that explained any of her unanswered questions. The only answers she had were broken fragments of words spat from the mouths of vile abductors. She didn't know what most of them meant, but she was certain it was horrible.

"A little left to you," Levi would say. "A woman with blonde hair. Brown eyes, large lips. Rune Seifer. She runs an underground brothel, and is notorious for buying her workers from slavers and tradesmen."

Usually Mikasa was quiet. She spared a glance to whomever Levi was referring to, and mentally captured their appearance. But sometimes she'd respond in a voice so quiet, Levi often head to lean a little to hear her.

"These people," Mikasa said once. "They're all… suspects?"

He looked almost amused. Maybe he was. She couldn't quite tell. "Haven't you caught on?" Levi looked down at her, and he gave a little sigh. "No, I guess not. Yes, Mikasa. They are suspects."

"What will you do?" Mikasa asked. "When you find the person who wanted me?"

"I'll do what I did to the people who brought you to me."

Those words settled like a brick inside her stomach.

Still, she couldn't complain. She liked Levi. He was callous and rude, but she could see the truth in him. It had taken a little while to place it, but she knew now that beneath the exterior, there was just a sad man who was entangled in a whole lot of bad. But she could sense the good in him. And she could sense his resolve too.

She made it her goal to try and wake up earlier than him. It failed countless times, morning after morning, days passing in a blur. She crept out of her bedroom, her eyes always going straight to the couch. The case was this: Levi was either sitting there, sipping tea and reading, or he was at the stove preparing his tea with a book sitting on his folded blanket. She couldn't claim to be disappointed, but she was still a little bothered.

One morning though, when she crept from her room, she froze in the doorway. Levi had come home rather late the night before, and as usual Mikasa had waited for him, sitting patiently on the couch as the hours ticked by. He didn't tell her the specifics of where he was going. Business, he had said. It could mean anything. It could mean a dealing. And Mikasa still wasn't sure what that entailed. Dealing. Even the word tasted foul.

Mikasa must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up in her bed. Levi had put her there, undoubtedly. But now he was a lump on the couch, face tucked into blanket. He was so still that for a moment Mikasa feared he might not be breathing. But when she crept closer, she could see the rising and falling of his chest.

She looked down and smiled at her bare feet. Her toes wiggled against the cold wood.

After setting the kettle on the stove, she moved closer to Levi's slumbering form. She didn't want to disturb him. It was the first time she had ever seen him asleep. There was something jarring about it. Peaceful, and sweet. A precious sort of moment that she could scarcely touch upon, it was so delicate. One false move, and it was over. He'd be awake, and the magic would be lost.

She took the kettle off before it whistled, and filled two cups with it. As she was creeping back to the couch, she saw Levi's body stir. She set her cup down on the table before she lost it, and watched the man as he sat up in silence. The blanket slid to his shoulders as he supported himself with one arm, rubbing his eyes with the back of his wrist. He didn't seem to notice Mikasa until he blinked a few times, doubtless clearing the glaze of sleep from his eyes.

He stared at her as she stood across from him, clutching a dish of tea.

"Good morning," she said. She offered out the cup. "I made you tea."

"Why the hell are you awake?" The bluntness of his tone didn't faze her. She continued to hold out the dish. He sat up straight, his blanket crumpling in his lap as he took the dish from her.

"I…" Mikasa didn't know how to defend herself. "I was up. I didn't see a reason to stay in bed."

He took the cup in hand, sipping at the tea pensively. For a minute or so, she stood in absolute quiet. She could hear the soft drizzle of rain against the shutters and window pane. She could see a tear in Levi's sweater, a large and jagged tear that frayed the wool around it. Mikasa found herself staring at it blankly.

"How long have you been awake?" Levi asked finally.

"Not long," Mikasa said. She took her own tea, but did not drink it. She was too busy staring at him. Worry prickled inside her stomach. "What happened?"

He was dirty, just generally caked with dust and maybe some blood. He'd taken his boots off by the door, but otherwise he was still wearing the clothes he must have stumbled through the front door in the night before. That was very unusual. She searched his face, but found no wounds to be accounted for. She found herself wiggling her left hand. It felt much better. There was nothing more than a ghost of an ache, and soon she felt she'd no longer need a bandage at all.

"I'm going to take a bath," Levi said suddenly, setting his teacup down and standing up.

Mikasa watched him disappear into the bathroom, and she shook her head. She went into the bedroom and withdrew a set of clothes for Levi to change into, not surprised that he hadn't gone to get them himself. She set them down at the foot of the bathroom door, and then looked around the room. Keeping herself busy was an art she had mastered fast, and she soon had the entire room spotless. Not that there had been much to work with. Levi kept everything uncannily tidy. But she did fold up his blanket, and close a cabinet, and then set to work on breakfast.

By the time Levi opened the door, his chest bare, and a towel around his waist, Mikasa had finished making the porridge. Levi had almost stepped on the clothes, but at the last moment he seemed to notice them. For a few moments he stood there, water trickling from his damp hair to his chin. Then he looked to Mikasa.

He scooped up the clothes, and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Mikasa set down the bowls across from each other, and got two fresh cups of tea. Levi appeared behind her, drying his hair with a towel as he watched her. She turned to face him, standing with a new dish in her hands. His torn sweater was clenched in his fist.

"I made breakfast," Mikasa said.

"I have eyes."

Mikasa could only shrug. She sat down on the floor with her legs crossed, and she began to eat her oatmeal. It was a little too watery, but it tasted sweet from the pinch of sugar she'd drizzled over it. When Levi sat down across from her, and he scooped a spoonful into his mouth, he paused. And he swallowed.

"What did you do?" he asked, staring down at porridge.

"I just mixed in a little sugar," Mikasa said softly, blinking down at her own bowl. "Was that wrong?"

For a second, she thought he might shout at her. It would be the first time, and over something as insignificant as sugar on porridge. Then he gave a little shrug, scooping more into his spoon. "It tastes good," he said slowly, the words sounding awkward and quiet. Genuine, though. Mikasa had to bow her head to hide a smile.

"Thank you," she said.

"Didn't I tell you not to thank me, little bitch?"

When Levi had first called her that, she thought she'd done something wrong. But no. He'd meant it endearingly. It sounded too prickly to be affectionate, but he wasn't cursing her out, either. Mikasa knew that it was just a matter of who Levi was. He liked the word bitch. She was fine with that.

"Yes," Mikasa said. "I'm sorry." She took a tentative sip of her tea to further hide her smile.

"Don't tell me you're sorry, either," Levi said, pointing his spoon at her accusingly. "Because I don't give a shit."

"Oh."

Levi stared at her for a few moments, and then began to eat again. His eyes lowered to his food, and they continued to eat in complete silence. The drizzle of rain was steadily becoming a downpour. If that disconcerted Levi, he showed no sign of it. Mikasa knew he'd go about business as usual. He began to read about halfway through breakfast. It was the same book he always read. Does he have any other book? Mikasa wondered. She was too nervous to ask.

While she was taking a sip of tea, Levi shoved the book under her nose, and she nearly choked.

"Read this sentence for me," Levi said, his thumb pressing to the faded ink of a yellowing page. Mikasa clutched her teacup with white fingers as she stared at him, and she then set the cup down cautiously. She leaned closer to look at the words. They leapt off the page like black wires curling around her neck and crushing her throat.

"There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child, but she could not obtain her wish," Mikasa read. "At last she went to a fairy, and said, "I should so very much like to have a little child; can you tell me where I can find one?"" Mikasa paused, her brow furrowing a little. What was this book? ""Oh, that can be easily managed," said the fairy. "Here is a barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and see what will happen."" Mikasa paused to look up at Levi. "What is this?"

He took the book back, and he shrugged. "A bunch of stupid stories," Levi said.

Mikasa stared at him in wonder. "Why did you want me to read it?" she asked. "Is it important?"

"No," Levi said, shutting the book and resting it beside his bowl. He looked at her, and his eyelids slid down in a strange scrutinizing motion. "I wanted to know if you were literate."

Mikasa might have felt embarrassed, or surprised, but in all honesty she couldn't find it in her. She was, however, a little offended. "My mother taught me," Mikasa informed him, her voice clipped and emotionless. "Why would you think I couldn't read?"

Levi sat in silence, his eyes resting on his face. They traveled down to the leather bound book, beaten and second-hand, stained and peeling. He rested his hand on the cover, his fingers brushing the words pressed in heavy golden letters into the wrinkled skin.

"When I was your age," Levi said, his voice quiet and low, "I couldn't."

Mikasa sat, stunned, and she looked at the little book in wonder. "Oh," she said. Her cheeks grew warm, and she mentally chastised herself. "You… you like to read, right, Levi?"

He studied her face. "I don't reread this shit because I dislike it," Levi stated, frowning a little.

"Is that the only book you have?" Mikasa folded her hands in her lap. When Levi nodded, she blinked in confusion. "Doesn't it get boring, rereading it?"

"Not really."

Mikasa stared at him, prodding him with her eyes to elaborate. He gave a lofty sigh.

"I learned how to read with this dumbass book," he said slowly. "Don't get me wrong. I've read other books. But this one has stuck with me."

"What happens?" Mikasa asked. "At the end?"

Levi gave her a look that she couldn't read. "There's too many endings," he said, sliding the book across the table and standing up. "Read them yourself."

Mikasa stared at the book in wonder as Levi picked up his teacup and bowl, depositing it in the sink without a care. He rinsed them out as she mulled over his words, taking the book in her hands as if it were something cursed. It felt warm against her fingers, like the pages were made of flame and lamplight, glowing madly as it fought off the impenetrable dark.

"I'll be gone for a few hours," Levi said, slipping a jacket on over his cotton shirt. He pulled up the hood, buttoning the tan coat with nimble fingers. "Don't get into any trouble."

"I won't."

Levi nodded. If Mikasa was to be honest, she couldn't deny the prickle of disappointment as he left without a word. It was a dull ache in her chest, the desire to be accepted. She imagined Levi patting her head, and telling her, "You're a good girl, you know that?" Of course, that would never happened. She wasn't so delusional as to think he'd ever be so affectionate.

She read the book for an hour or so until it stopped raining. She got through numerous stories, strange old anecdotes about witches and magic and princes and beasts. It was not the sort of thing Mikasa had ever expected Levi to read. Some of the stories she had even heard before. The Little Mermaid, Mikasa thought. The Ugly Duckling. Some stories resonated stronger than others in her muddy memory.

She decided on something as she flipped through the yellowed pages, her eyes glued to the book. Levi forbade her from thanking him for anything. At least vocally. He made no objections to her efforts around the house, or her success in delivering messages when he asked it of her. So perhaps he'd accept a gift? Mikasa thought it was a good plan. Perfect, really, and simple. She had passed by a book shop a few times, and it was only a block or so from Levi's home.

The only problem was that she had no money.

She went anyway. The walk was short, and the sunshine glimmered against the glittering streets. Other children splashed through puddles happily, and all Mikasa could think was, I hope Levi doesn't notice the mud on my shoes. A boy even ran up to Mikasa, jumping before her and grinning broadly.

"Come play!" he gasped, waving at her encouragingly. His companions were still laughing, jumping around puddles madly. Mikasa noticed how their socks had turned a damp, murky brown. "We need another person to be a titan!"

For a moment she almost considered it. They look so happy… She had no recent memory of ever playing with other kids. The thought made her sad. "I wish I could," Mikasa told the boy. He was sort of plump and smiley, round and happy. She found herself toying with the embroidery of her skirt. "But I don't want to get dirty."

"Aw, what?" The boy pouted, and glanced at her dress. "Come on, it'll be fun! You're new right? My name is Stefan, and you should definitely come play with us. I promise you won't get dirty!"

She stared at him for a moment or so, and began to shake her head. "No," she said. "I can't play. Sorry."

"Oh." Stefan looked a little stunned. Some of the other children stopped to look at her, and she felt a little self-conscious. She pressed her lips together, and waved awkwardly. They waved back in awe, confusion glinting in their large eyes. Mikasa couldn't help but envy them. I bet they have parents to go home to, she thought bitterly. A mother and a father. All she had was Levi. And she wasn't exactly sure what he was. "Well, some other time? When the weather gets warm we play ball out here."

"Yeah," a tall girl said, jumping up beside Stefan. She had a long face, and strangely limp brown hair that hung against her cheeks in a bulk of mousy strands. Her pug nose was faintly freckled, and her eyes were a flaky green color, like leaves just beginning to change. "We need more people anyway, since lots of the older kids stopped playing."

"Oh," Mikasa said. She had no idea what to say to that. "Maybe."

"Awesome!" the girl gasped. Her eyes were glittering. "Where are you from, anyways? Your face is kinda—"

"Shh," Stefan hissed, elbowing the girl. "Don't be rude."

The girl puffed out her cheeks indignantly. "What? I wasn't. Was I being rude?"

"No." Mikasa touched her face in spite of herself. She could feel how warm it was. "Thank you, but I have to go now."

She left them without another word. She had no time to waste. After all, Levi could appear home any minute and find an empty house. She was terrified of what he might say. So when she pushed the door of the book store open, she marched straight up to the woman at the counter. She was not quite elderly, but her bobbing sandy curls were shot through with wisps of gray. There were stress lines pressing tightly to the corners of her mouth, and she had eyes like frozen steel. She could see the ice breathing mist into the air as it flaked and twitched against warmth.

"Hello," Mikasa said. She stood straight and tall. Her fingernails were digging into her palm.

"Hello," the woman said, her long finger pressing against the counter. She peered at Mikasa curiously. "Are you lost?"

"No." Mikasa took a step forward. "I have something to ask."

"Oh?" The woman smiled, but it was tight and strangely empty. "And what is that?"

"I don't have any money," Mikasa admitted. "And I don't know where to get any. But if I… helped you… cleaned up for you, or— or stacked books. Could you give me one? Just one. It… it doesn't have to be now." She shifted from foot to foot under the scrutiny of the woman's icy gaze. "Please."

"You're asking me… for a job?" The woman looked almost confused.

"You don't have to pay me," Mikasa said. "And I won't make much noise. You won't even know I'm here."

"A book as compensation for labor," the woman said, resting her cheek against her palm. "Well, that's certainly new."

"Is…" She swallowed her fears, and took a deep breath. "Is that a no?"

"No." The woman smiled. "I have no grudges against children who want to read. Even better, you want to clean." She shrugged. "Who am I to turn such a sweet offer down?"

Mikasa let out the breath she'd been holding, and she stared up at the woman with wide eyes. "Thank you," she blurted. She couldn't help the jittery feeling of excitement as it clung to her. "I can come at this time every day, if that's all right. Some days I might not."

"That's fine." The woman tilted her head, and her gray brows knitted together. "Is there any book in particular you wanted?"

"No." Mikasa looked around, and for a moment she felt lost. There were a few shelves, some of them lining the walls, others pressed back to back with narrow aisles between them. Beaten books were in uneven piles, discarded pages strewn across the floor. "But I have a lot of time to look."

There was some nervousness in returning home, but it seemed that Levi didn't notice that she had left the house. And so every day when he went out to do whatever work he did— Mikasa made sure not to ask, as she feared what she might hear— she then made the short journey to the book shop. The woman, Lotte Tanner, was not particularly talkative, nor did she seem to notice Mikasa's presence half the time. She said that Mikasa could take a book whenever she wanted, but Mikasa was a little frantic when she realized she had no idea what book Levi might want. Sometimes when she finished up stacking new selections, or sweeping the aisles, she'd begin to thumb through some of them.

One day, when she was asked why she hadn't taken a book yet, Mikasa could only answer honestly.

"I can't choose," she said. "The book isn't for me, and I… I want to be sure it's something he'd like."

"Oh?" Miss Lotte looked amused, which made Mikasa feel silly. "Who is the book for? Maybe I can help."

"My—" Mikasa froze. She stood for a moment, her tiny body going rigid as she mulled over the word in her head. It was sweet and forbidden, like the taste of a secret wrapped in a gloss of confusion and fear. "My f… friend."

She'd been about to say father.

"Okay," Miss Lotte said. Cupped her sharp chin between her fingers. "Tell me about him."

Mikasa obliged tentatively. She gave the woman a watered down version of who Levi was. A quiet man who read a book of tales every day simply because of habit and a strange fondness. When Mikasa recounted the tales in the book, Miss Lotte gave a little laugh, and she nodded.

"Oh, I know that book," she said. She peered at Mikasa, and moved toward the back of the shop. She waved her fingers in gesture for Mikasa to follow. She stood before a rickety bookcase, the wood looking unrefined and rotted, with splintering frames and crooked shelves. Miss Lotte stood on her tip toes to reach a dusty book, which was thin and fragile looking. It was papery and peeling, yellow pages thin and jagged from time eating at them. Age had damaged the book, and the cover was so worn that the title was unrecognizable. There was a bold impression of a sword burrowed into the weathered cover. It was a mossy green color, though perhaps it had once been a startling emerald.

"What's this?" Mikasa asked, flipping carefully through the tiny book. The words were surprisingly bold for a book so battered.

"An old myth," Miss Lotte said. "Heroes and knights, right? I'm sure your friend will enjoy it."

Mikasa clutched the book tightly, and then she hugged it to her chest. "Thank you," she said, staring up at Miss Lotte. "I'll keep coming everyday, if that's all right?"

"It's fine." Miss Lotte's eyes were like melting ice. "How about I actually start paying you?"

Mikasa smiled, her head bowed. She thanked the woman again, and left the shop in a hurry. The day was warm, a blanket of humidity washing over Yalkell. The sun was turning the sky a burnt yellow color, clouds crumbling against the warm hue like brown bread flaking. The book pressed to her chest, wrinkled black leather held tightly to her crimson dress. She passed by Stefan and his gang, and she stopped for a moment to watch them scurry around the street, their laughter shrieking into the air. A ball bounced between them, ricocheting off shins and knees.

"Mikasa!" the girl, Kaethe, cried out. She waved excitedly. "Come over here!"

Mikasa acquiesced, moving to the lanky girl's side. In the past weeks, Mikasa had stopped to chat with Stefan's ragtag bunch. The majority of them were well off, but there were some children who knew what it was like to go for a few days with an empty belly.

"Hello," Mikasa said, hugging her book tightly. She turned her head to peer down the road. She was sure Levi would be back soon, and though she was excited to give him the gift, she was anxious about the inevitable questions it would instigate. "I can't stay."

"You never do," another girl said, her angular nose wrinkling. She was much smaller than Kaethe, and younger too. Mikasa put her age as six, and she had a round, chubby face and dazed brown eyes. There were a few gaps in her teeth, and her pale blonde hair crinkled around her cheeks in a frizzled spiral of curls. Two tufts of yellow pigtails swelled around her ears. Her name was Ada.

"Sorry," Mikasa said. "I should be heading home, though. Maybe I'll play tomorrow?"

Ada looked up at Mikasa with large eyes. "Really?" she gasped.

"No," Stefan called, kicking the ball from foot to foot. "Like you said! Mikasa never plays, stupid!"

Mikasa frowned at him. "Don't call her stupid," Mikasa said quietly.

"What?" Stefan's plump face was flushed from the exercise, and his hair was beginning to clump from sweat. It was a very warm day, after all. "Are you gonna do something about it, Mikasa?"

He was taunting her with a broad grin. Mikasa's conversations with these children were often short, but she did know that they enjoyed her company. They seemed to find her mysterious, and it was funny to listen to them guess about her.

For a moment she thought about it. I could punch him, she thought. Maybe.

She closed her eyes.

"No," she said, turning her back to them. She gave Ada a pat on the head. Her curls were coarse and wiry against Mikasa's palm. "I have to go now."

She moved at a faster pace, her shoes clapping against the road as she went. She paused as she reached the house, sweat building at the back of her neck. Her fingers hovered over the doorknob, and she tilted her head back to peer down the street. A few passersby hung at the end of the road, but otherwise the street was shadowed by the glow of the setting sun.

It's dark, she told herself as she entered the house, shutting the door behind her. That's all.

She set the book down on the table, smiling fondly at it. She rolled up her sleeves as she moved to the sink, washing her hands as she thought about dinner. That morning Levi had said something about soup, which was fine with her. She knew he'd be home soon, and he would probably take the reins from her, but the least she could do was start chopping up the ingredients.

She'd been peeling potatoes when she heard a knock at the door. She paused, the dirt caked skin hanging precariously over the garbage bin. Then she smiled a little to herself, and set down the knife on the counter, wiping her hands off on a towel. She ran to the door, opening it with both hands and leaning against it as she opened her mouth to greet Levi.

Immediately she saw her error.

She slammed the door closed, but a boot slid between the opening, and the door was flung open again with a startling amount of force. She stumbled back, her body crashing to the floor as two men stood over her, brutish and shadowy. She lay for a moment, frozen in terror. No, she thought numbly. She leapt to her feet, nearly stumbling as she backed away from the men. Not again, please, no, not again.

She was grabbed by the arm by one man, and his fist closed around her skinny wrist. She found herself yanking backwards, her heels digging into the floor. Levi's voice floated into her mind as the man's other hand came for her. If anyone who isn't me touches you… Mikasa stared at the hand for half a heartbeat. And then she let a scream tear from her throat, listening as it burst through the air in a billow of terror and rage, and she ducked the hand, driving her shin between the man's legs.

She didn't hear his cry of pain. All that concerned her was that he'd loosened his grip, and that was all she needed. She tore away from the man, stumbling and gasping, and she looked to the door hopefully, but the other man was blocking her way. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she backed away slowly, her breathing fast and erratic. Then her eyes moved to the counter.

The other man came at her just as she dove, and she reached up, grasping the hilt of the knife just as he tackled her. Her head smacked a cabinet, sending her vision into a bleary haze. Pain flashed through her like swallowing fire, and it warmed and thrashed her, forcing her to gasp a little. The man had her legs pinned down, but her arm was twisted above her head in an awkward, painful position that put too much pressure on her shoulder.

He grabbed her around the waist, yanking her into the air. She struggled and screamed, her teeth clamping down onto his meaty hand when he tried to cover her mouth. He have a shout of pain.

"You little bitch!" he snarled. She clenched the knife in her hand.

He gave a strangled gasp as she sheathed the blade in his neck, just below his ear. She listened to the sound of it, to the wet rasp of a dying man, and she felt herself being dropped. She crumpled against the wooden floor, knocking against the cabinets and clutching her head. She blinked the stars that clung to her eyes away, and she stared at the convulsing man in horror.

No, she thought, tears in her eyes. I didn't… I only meant to…

She was completely stunned, shell-shocked and horrified, and the other man took advantage of that. Before she could scream again, his fist came crashing down on her cheek, and she was knocked into a bubbling, spitting sea of black flames.

Chapter Text

Levi didn't deceive himself. Mikasa's presence hadn't changed him, and he was still involved with dirty dealings. He took what jobs he could get. It was easy, and his reputation gave him leverage. And now that he had another mouth to feed, he had to work a little more. Sometimes he worked well into the night, and when he arrived home he'd find Mikasa had waited for him, often falling asleep before his appearance. Sometimes she would surprise him, though, and still be awake. In truth, he despised how attached she'd grown to him.

He despised how attached he'd grown to her as well.

Levi didn't mind caring about people. He just liked to limit himself to a select handful, and often he'd keep his distance from them for their sake and his own. Mikasa was that disgusting anomaly that he couldn't shake. Quiet and obedient, like a puppy desperate to please. She was an inquisitive child, nonetheless, and often she prodded at a sore topic or tentatively tugged a bit of information out of him he hadn't meant to tell her. She was very good at getting him to speak. But he blamed that on their familiarity. A few months of living together would force him to become comfortable with her presence.

When he reached his street, he knew there was something wrong immediately. He stood for a moment, the shadows around him dancing as the sun crept behind the horizon. And then he bolted, his instincts singing to him as he reached his door. It was ajar, and the sight of it caused his stomach to give an inevitable lurch. He swung the door open, swallowing Mikasa's name as it sprung to his tongue. There was no point on shouting it. One sweep around the room was enough to tell Levi that she was gone.

There was a dead man. That was what amazed him. He took into account the half-peeled potatoes, the cabinet ajar, and the knife in the man's neck.

I'm sorry, Mikasa, he thought. He could feel his anger spiking, flooding him with ineffable rage. It bubbled over, and he resisted the urge to kick the corpse. No, he would leave it. Find someone to dispose of it in the tunnels, or report it, or something like that. He didn't really care for now.

He was a little ashamed at the swell of pride that surfaced as he realized Mikasa had defended herself. He didn't know how to feel about any of this, but he did know one thing for sure.

Whoever had done it was going to bitterly regret the first day they drew breath.

"You," Levi said, lifting the man's head by his hair so his face was visible. "I know you, bastard."

Levi knew just about everyone in Yalkell. And so it wasn't hard to link the face of this goon to the culprit. Levi dropped the man's head, and spun around. Just as he was about to exit, he spotted something on the table.

A book.

He stared at it for a few moments, trying to link it to the rest of the scenario he had built in his head. But he couldn't. Why was there a book here? Had Mikasa brought it home?

He shook his head, and left with his fingers instinctively checking every hidden weapon he carried. Rune Seifer wasn't so hard to find. Anyone with real power in the underground could sniff her out in an instant. He was only concerned with how prepared she was to fight him. She, of course, was not much of a fighter. She had plenty of muscle to spare, however. Which did shit on his confidence a little.

Oh, Levi was going to go retrieve Mikasa. That much was a plain fact. But there was no telling what he would run into.

"Um, e-excuse me."

Levi halted. The voice was high and reedy. A child's voice. He spun around and stared down at the cluster of children who were watching him.

"Um," a girl said, small and chubby. She bit her lip with crooked teeth. "Are you Mikasa's daddy?"

Levi watched her with a dull gaze. On the inside he was seething.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"We're friends of Mikasa's!" a round boy gasped, stepping forward. "Um, we talk to her whenever she goes to the bookstore."

"Bookstore?" Levi's mind went back to the mysterious book, and decided that it was an adequate explanation. "Never mind. Did you see her today?"

"Yeah, that…" A pug nosed girl scratched her head. "That's the weird thing. When she came by, there were these weird men following her. At first we thought maybe one of them was you, but we've all seen you walk by, and they were way too tall."

Levi gritted his teeth. "You saw she was being followed," he said in a low voice. "And you sat on your asses and did nothing?"

The children looked up at him. Their eyes gleamed with terror. He shook his head. Children were children, and he knew that. They couldn't be blamed.

It didn't make him any less bitter though.

"You," Levi snapped, jerking his chin. "Boy. Go find an MP, and take them to my house. I found a dead body there, and I don't particularly want to see it when I get back."

"A-a body?" the boy squeaked.

Levi's eyes narrowed. "Just go do it," he said, turning away from them. "And be sure to mention that I found the body, or else they'll think I did that shit. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes," the boy said. He blinked rapidly. "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Whatever questions the Military Police would have for him didn't matter. Because the man in Levi's home would lead them to Rune Seifer. If they actually gave a damn about nabbing her, then her own carelessness had led to her downfall. But Levi doubted they would particularly be bothered. He was certain the majority of the MPs in Yalkell knew him, and turned the blind eye to him. After all, who did they have to thank for their balance in gang activity? Their smuggled items? Their prostitutes?

Levi was disgusted with the people he surrounded himself with.

He recalled the day after he'd saved Mikasa. The meeting he'd had with his employers. It had gone as well as expected— they hadn't attacked, but they had cursed him to hell and back. They'd never called on him again.

They were like him in that they bounced around from employer to employer. It seemed that the person that had employed them that particular day had been Rune Seifer. And the woman had undoubtedly been pissed when she had seen Levi walking around with the girl she had paid for.

Despicable filth.

The tunnels weren't too hard to navigate. They went from narrow to expansive in the span of footsteps, and Levi easily found himself at the door of Rune Seifer's brothel. He entered quietly, the scent of intermingling perfumes, stale alcohol, and other fluids making him sick to his stomach. He didn't frequent at brothels, but he was certainly known here. He put the thought of his past dealings out of his mind.

He ignored the public displays around him, which were nothing explicit. Levi didn't know for sure, but it was likely there were private rooms for sexual activities past fondling.

There was a woman at the desk. Her face was severe, but her eyes lit up at the sight of him.

"Oh, Levi," she gasped. His fists clenched. "Why, this is a surprise! You never come here when you're not on business. Why don't you sit down? Emera, come here!"

A slender girl came scurrying to his side, young and pretty with dark hair and dark eyes. She was smaller than him, and in the dim light he'd almost taken her for Mikasa.

He realized that was why the girl had been chosen.

Emera's arm reached out, and he snatched her wrist without thought. He stared at the woman at the desk, whose name he had forgotten, and he squeezed Emera's wrist until she gasped.

"The next person to try and touch me will have a broken wrist," Levi stated, shoved the girl back with so much force that she went flying to the floor. "Now. Don't try to play me, you fucking bitch, because I'm not in any mood for games." He gripped the desk with white knuckles, and his rage got the better of him. He flicked his wrists back, pulling at the desk with a good portion of his strength. He took a few steps back and listened as it crashed to the ground.

The entire room had gone deadly silent. His eyes were glowing dangerously in the dim light of the brothel, and he rested his boot against the busted desk. The woman was watched him with horror in her face, and Levi exhaled sharply through his nose. She had been expecting him, but not his wrath.

"What you want isn't here," the woman said.

"You're lying." Levi stood up on the busted remains of the desk, raising himself above the woman. "You obviously knew I was coming. I'll leave this sorry piss hole in peace if I get what I came for. If I don't…" Levi tilted his head. "I'll raze this damn place, and smoke Rune out."

Nobody moved. Levi looked around, and spotted an MP or two, but they would never make themselves known to him.

The woman stared at him, and from an entryway behind her, the devil herself stepped out. She smiled in a way that caused Levi's blood to boil, and he could feel his lips curling a little, his rage finally settling in his features.

"Levi," she purred. "Why don't you come with me?"

He stepped off the desk he had destroyed, and stepped around it, his eyes never leaving Rune's. She was a callous woman, her brown eyes hard and cold, and her lips perpetually smirking. She was tall, and she could easily sway people into thinking she was harmless. She was, in fact, the polar opposite of Levi in every way he could possibly think of. And he despised her.

"I suppose you want the girl," Rune said as he followed her into a hall. The building burrowed itself further into the ground, and Levi saw a flight of steps. He stared at them.

"Why else would I stoop to this shit hole?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know." Rune leaned down, careful not to touch him, but pressing her face rather close to his hair. He could smell her putrid perfume. "Even an emotionless half-man like you must get lonely sometimes. Isn't that why you stole my possession?"

Levi stopped walking. He stared at Rune's back with such indescribable loathing that he could feel his clenched fists shaking in rage. Rune stopped, turning to face him with her eyes widening, feigning innocence. Her lips were curling though, amused and close to laughter. He could see it building in her eyes, like a storm about to unfurl.

"I stole from you?" Levi asked, his voice low. "Did I really? Think real fucking hard, Rune, about who stole that little girl. Because it sure as hell wasn't me."

"And you're so much better," Rune said, her eyes glittering. "Taking that little girl, hiding her away in your home. When I heard what you'd done, I couldn't believe it— but then I saw you with her." Rune's smile was poisonous. "Holding her hand, leaning oh so close. It was almost sweet, if it wasn't so vile."

"Don't test me," Levi warned. "All I want is for you to let go of one little girl. Is that really so hard on your damned ego?"

"This has nothing to do with my ego," Rune said. She studied him. "Though yours seems to be growing bigger by the day. Do you honestly think you can raze my establishment?"

"Do you honestly think you can stop me?"

She smiled. "Oh, no," she simpered. "Not me."

"A bodyguard, then?" Levi raised his head high. "That little girl took one of them down without any training. I saw the body." Levi might have smiled with pride if he hadn't been so furious. "She killed him quickly and precisely. She's smarter and stronger than you give her credit for." He stared at Rune, whose eyes had narrowed in obvious disdain. "She's obviously dangerous, Rune. You'll more than likely have a few deaths if you try to force her into anything she doesn't want to do. So just give her to me, and we can minimize the casualties to the one you lost today."

He was speaking very carefully, letting his mind work while his body went taut in apprehension. He was ready to fight. But if he could negotiate a way out of this mess, he'd be damned if he didn't at least try.

"I've dealt with rowdy ones before," Rune said, waving offhandedly. "All she needs is to be broken."

She's already broken, you monstrous bitch, Levi thought, resisting the urge to whip out a trusty knife and finish this monstrosity already.

"I'm giving you one more chance," Levi said darkly. "Let her go, and I'll leave you alone."

Rune watched him with her cold brown eyes, and her smile widened. "Fine," she said, nodding. "Come with me."

Levi followed her down the steps he had noticed earlier, glaring at her back with such vigor that he was sure she would still feel his gaze in hell. She snatched a lamp from the wall, and led him down further until they reached a row of cells. He saw girls and boys, some young, some older, and all of them watched him with the same haunted look in their eyes. His stomach twisted at the sight of their dead gazes.

Is this what I send people to? he thought. I damn them to an empty life of pain and despair. And Mikasa's fate would have been no different if she had been a little older. Levi had always known how horrible he was. He had just never seen it thrown back in his face with a force that threatened to blow him to his knees.

They stopped before a cell, and the light caused the girl to look up. She was no worse for wear than she had been that morning, except for the busted lip and dried blood cracking across her chin. It took a few moments for her to react, and then she leapt to her feet, her entire expression seeming to melt in a matter of moments.

"Levi!" she cried, running for the door of the cell and staring up at him with glowing black eyes. He thought back to when he had first seen them. They had been just as dead as the children around them. But now they were very much alive, and so fucking hopeful it made him nervous. Because he knew this was a trap. But he couldn't help but be relieved when she reached through the bars, her fingers stretching toward him. He grasped her hand gently with his own, and he found his anger fluctuating. On one hand he was so relieved to see her relatively unharmed, but on the other… she was caged, trapped, and he had no idea what Rune was planning.

"You're okay," Levi clarified. He was very aware of Rune's heavy gaze. "Tell me who hurt you."

Mikasa stared at him for a moment, before she jerked back. "Behind you!" she gasped.

Levi spun around, and slid away from the sharp lowering arc of an ax. He swung himself off the bars of the cell just as the man's ax collided with the metal. Sparks shot into the air on contact, and Levi noticed how the ax dug into the bars. He pushed himself so he was clinging to the man's arm, and then he swung his body so the knife he'd acquired could easily swipe through the man's beefy neck. He landed before Rune, kicking the bleeding man's legs out from under him. He went collapsing face first into a puddle of his own blood.

He wasn't surprised when more goons arrived. Levi sighed, and he curled back in preparation. He fought without thought, but then he began to lure them in. They were cumbersome and slow. And they hit the bars just as he expected. With every satisfying clang of metal, there was a wet sound of a blade grating against bone, and blood spilling against the ground. Rune hadn't been expecting this. Bodies piled up around Levi, and all Rune and Mikasa could do was stand there and watch as he razed.

Levi was painted with blood by the time he finally kicked the bars of Mikasa's cell, using pressure against the many gashes on its face. The entire cage seemed to bend a little, quaking for a short moment before snapping under its own weight. Mikasa stumbled back as the door was kicked in at her feet. She stared for a moment, her mouth parting in awe. He looked around, but it seemed he had exhausted Rune's supply of goons.

"I'll be taking her now," he informed Rune. She stared at him. There was terror clear in her gaze. Levi was unsure of how many people he had just killed, but there were too many bodies. He had to climb over a few to reach Mikasa, and he held out his hand. She stared up at him, and she gave a weak smile, grasping it tightly and stepping out of the cell.

Beneath him, he saw an arm flash out. His eyes widened in shock as something sharp sliced through his leg, hitting very near the back of his knee, and forcing him to stumble and sway. He stomped on the not-quite corpse's hand with his good leg, but it was too little too late. He found that his right leg could not support him, and he went down with gritted teeth and flashing eyes. He snatched the knife that had done it from the ground, and stabbed it through the twitching hand.

"Levi!" Mikasa gasped, clambering over dead bodies to reach him. She bent down, and he scowled at her.

"Don't do that," he said, steadying his breaths. "You'll get your dress all dirty."

There were tears in her eyes, but she blinked them back and nodded, rising to her feet. She looked up at Rune, and Levi watched as her expression went dead.

"Are you the one," Mikasa asked, her voice similarly void, "who had those men come to my home and kill my family?"

Rune said nothing. She merely stared at the girl with eyes frozen open in terror. Mikasa's shoulders began to visibly tremble, and she continued to stare up at the woman until she seemed to have enough. She bent down, her fingers closing around the knife burrowed into the dead man's hand. She yanked it out, and stepped forward.

"Answer me," Mikasa said, raising her head high. She held the knife tightly in hand, and Levi tried to stand, but his right leg was bleeding too much already. He could feel it, seeping through fabric, pooling across the floor beneath him and soaking into the dirt with the rest of the blood.

"I…" Rune said, staring at the knife. "I may have… suggested—"

Mikasa didn't need anything else. She leapt, but instead of stabbing the woman as Levi had expected her to, she instead kicked Rune in the stomach. When she went tumbled down, Mikasa let the blade glide over the back of her leg. She took a good few steps back, still pointing the blade at Rune. Her eyes had lost their spark as they stared.

"If you come after us ever again," Mikasa said as Rune gasped and groaned. "I'll take your entire leg."

The corners of Levi's mouth twitched as Mikasa spun around and looked at him. She tossed the knife into her cell, and climbed carefully over a few bodies. When she reached him, she reached out, but didn't touch him. Maybe she was too scared to.

"Mikasa," he said, fully aware of how immobile he was at that moment. "Why don't you head home?"

She gave him a long stare. She shook her head. "No," she said. "If you can't walk… I'll carry you."

He found his brows furrowing. He didn't doubt the girl's strength, but he was definitely skeptical on this. He opened his mouth to object, but she was already grabbing his arms, her little body buckling a little as she hefted him onto her back. No, this isn't necessary, he thought. He let it go, though. Mostly because, to his amazement, she steadied herself. She clutched his arms very tightly, and it almost hurt as she moved forward, climbing over corpses and carrying him to the exit. His bloody leg was hanging limply, and aching as it continued to bleed out.

It was true enough that he was impressed with her. She'd surpassed his expectations, and now it became very apparent just how much she seemed to care for him. He didn't know what to make of it. But not even Rune's words had sullied what semblance of a bond they had. He rested his chin against her hair as Mikasa left the brothel, ignoring the looks they received.

"What you did," Levi said quietly to her as she walked. "Why did you do it?"

Mikasa walked for a little bit, her steps measured. When they reached the steps going up to the surface, she answered in the same quiet tone, "I only did what I thought you would do."

It was simple and obvious. And it almost pained him. I don't want you to be like me, he wanted to say. But it was already too late for him to say so.

"I can walk now," Levi said.

"We're almost home."

"I said I can fucking walk," Levi said, preparing to drop himself. His eyes widened as she tightened her grip on his arms, preventing him from releasing himself. "Let me go, Mikasa."

"I'm not stupid," Mikasa said, her voice giving the slightest hint of a waver. He knew he had to be heavy, or at the very least he was tiring her out. After what had just happened to her, he was alarmed that she could carry him at all. "I know how much you're bleeding. If I carry you then we can get home faster."

Of course, Levi knew a dozen ways to get her to let go. However, all of them would involve harming her in some way. No, he didn't want that. So he let her carry him, as if he was the broken child, and she was the determined adult. He had never expected this. Mikasa was well past the point of being attached to him, it seemed. The thought stirred his stomach, causing him to feel anxiety for whatever was to come.

"Levi," Mikasa whispered, just as his eyes began to droop from exhaustion. The road was dark, and there were street lamps to flutter through the heavy blackness. The street was bathed yellow, and he saw shadows shifted on their stoop. "Who are those men?"

Levi sighed into her shoulder. "MPs," he said.

He felt her muscles go taut, and he shook his head. "Don't be scared," he whispered. "They won't do anything to you."

"But… I…"

"No." Levi stared at her, but he couldn't see her face past her dark curtain of hair. "You did nothing wrong."

Mikasa, to her credit, never stopped walking. Levi wondered if she worried about dropping him, or if the strain was becoming too much. He knew he could be more assertive and force her to let go, but he was horribly curious about the extent of her strength. It was a cruel thing to do, but he couldn't help but wonder. Had he been so strong when he had been nine?

He was sure he hadn't been.

"Excuse me," Mikasa murmured, stopping before the MPs who were sitting on the step leading to Levi's door. "You're in the way."

Levi could not see them, but he could feel the shifty gazes of them. "Uh, we need an official statement from the man who lives here."

It was all Levi could do not to audibly groan. They choose to do their jobs when it's the most fucking inconvenient… "Mikasa," he said, "let me down now."

She complied this time, loosening her grip on his arms ever so slightly. Levi's leg throbbed as his feet rested against the ground, and he had to lean on Mikasa for support. He was a damned idiot for not reacting fast enough. And sure, he could blame Mikasa for distracting him— but it had been his own relief that had clouded his senses.

The two men were lounging on the stoop, a bottle of alcohol between them. They looked at Levi with varying degrees of amusement and confusion and perhaps even fear. Their cheeks were flushed in the lamplight, and Levi was beyond pissed that they were still loitering around his home. If they had gotten rid of the body, then they had no more use to him. Fuck, MPs were way too much of a hassle.

"What the hell do you want?" Levi asked, his voice blunt and a few degrees away from shaking. He needed to close the wound before he bled out, and he and Mikasa both knew it.

"Just tell us what happened to the guy in your house," sniffed one man.

"He slipped and fell on a knife," Levi said. He rolled his eyes when the men glanced at each other. "What? Can you prove he didn't?"

Levi felt Mikasa's fingers tighten against the fabric of his jacket. Her tiny fists pressed into his back. "Levi…" she whispered.

He ignored her. The men looked alarmed, and one lurched to his feet. "We don't want to make this a bigger issue," he said, his voice slow but not slurred. Levi sensed that he wasn't quite drunk, just buzzed. "Just tell us what really happened, and we'll let you off as easy as we can."

Levi opened his mouth to retort, but Mikasa beat him to it. Her tiny voice was brisk and sharp against the night air.

"I killed him," she said boldly. Her expression was blank, and he could see her eyes. Dull and cloudy, broken and muddy as they searched the men's faces. They were overwhelmingly alarmed. "He grabbed me. I got scared. I didn't mean to, but I had the knife in my hand, and he was behind me." Mikasa sounded soft and dead as she spoke, spitting words mechanically through tight lips. "I couldn't see."

Levi closed his eyes, his grip on Mikasa tightening. He wasn't sure if it was because he was irritated at her confession, or if he was simply buckling under the pain. Perhaps it was both.

The men seemed to buy that. It was likely true anyway, and so they glanced at each other. "And where were you?" one man asked.

Levi opened his eyes, and met the man's gaze with a sharp one. "Working."

"And how is this girl related to you?" the other man asked suspiciously, peering at Mikasa's face.

"She's my niece. Now. Excuse us. There's a lot of damn blood we need to clean up."

They grew tired of the interrogation, and obliged as quickly as they could. The moment they were inside, he rounded on Mikasa.

"Why the fuck did you say that?" he hissed.

She stared up at him. "Say… what?" she asked.

"That you killed him?" Levi's eyebrows furrowed. "Mikasa, everyone in this shit-hole of a town already knows I'm a criminal— they just don't have the balls or the evidence to convict me. You're not even registered as a citizen in Wall Sina, and yet you'll be on record saying you murdered someone."

"But they thought it was you," Mikasa said, looking blissfully ignorant to everything he had said. "They would have arrested you. But they can't arrest me… can they?"

"No," Levi said. "But it might raise some questions if they actually give a shit about this, and decide to check up on my family."

"You said…" Mikasa helped him to the couch with a careful, steady hand. "You said I was your niece."

"Yeah, and it was a shitty lie." Levi grimaced as he folded up the leg of his pants. The wound stung for a moment, before the sting turned into a horrific throbbing. "Shit. Go get the aid kit. It's in the bathroom."

Mikasa was staring at the wound with a glimmer of horror in her eyes. There was blood on her mouth, dry and flaking as her lips parted. She quickly ran to the bathroom, looking as if there was fire licking at her heels. She returned within the minute, clutching a white box to her chest and resting it against the table. Her dull black eyes were watching the blood slide down Levi's leg like a thick, soupy red fountain.

"Shouldn't we… close it?"

Levi gritted his teeth, but kept his face steely. She couldn't know how much pain he was in. "I can't sew up the back of my leg," Levi said.

"I can do it."

He looked at her, staring at her face and studying it. "Yeah, okay," Levi said. She quickly went to digging through the box for a needle and filament. "Make sure you sterilize the needle first."

"Okay." She found the needle and a ball of medical twine, and she threaded it without thought. "Um, where…?"

"Light a candle," Levi said, "and hold the needled inside the flame so it can kill the germs."

Mikasa didn't need to be told anything else. She did exactly as she was told, and then she came back to his side with the needle pressed between two fingers. She had a towel and basin hand, and he closed his eyes as he straightened out his leg a little for her to mop up the blood. The cloth burned immediately on impact, but his only reaction was to tense up his shoulders.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked her.

"My mother taught me to sew…" she said slowly.

"There's a difference between sewing fabric and sewing up skin, Mikasa," Levi sighed.

"I know that." She set the crimson soaked cloth into the basin of water. "And I can do it. Lay down."

He couldn't help but stare at her for a few moments. She wasn't acting like a girl who had just killed someone— a girl who had just been kidnapped and beaten, only to watch half a dozen more men killed upon her release. He had underestimated her strength from the very start.

Mikasa Ackerman wasn't a broken doll. She was a survivor.

The process of the stitching took almost forty minutes. Mikasa was being so careful and meticulous that the stitches felt much sturdier than expected when she was done. Of course, it had caused more blood loss, resulting in him feeling light headed. She patched him up with gauze and tape, and by the time she began to mop up the blood on the floor… well, Levi was half drunk on the pain.

"Mikasa," he said, feeling drowsy as he slumped against the couch. "That book. Where the hell did you get it?"

She stopped scrubbing at the floor for a few moments to look up at him. Her face was hazy to him. Fuzzy and blinking in and out of focus. She went back to running a rag across the bloodstains that seemed to seep into the floorboards. He could see her black hair fluttering around her cheeks as she moved, and the sound of cloth scraping against wood, suds bubbling up and popping in a splash of red water.

"I worked for it."

He couldn't help but become alert at that. "What?" he asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Mikasa said, wringing out the rag, "that I earned it. And it was legal. If you were wondering."

"Well," Levi said, closing his eyes. He had to blink a few times. "Why buy a book? That shit could have gone to way better use. Like food."

"I didn't buy it," Mikasa said. "I worked for it. At the book shop down the road." She dropped the rag into a basin, and began to wipe up the leftover water.

"You did what?"

Mikasa looked at him, and then she stood up, setting the basin on the counter. She washed her hands, and he listened to the water running as his eyelids drooped. They snapped open again when she sat down beside him. The couch cushion sunk with her weight, and when he looked at her he saw the book resting in her lap.

"It's for you," she whispered, resting it against his thigh. He felt a little stunned momentarily. "I wanted to give you a book. Another one."

"I didn't ask you to," Levi said, pressing his hand to the book's leathery cover. It felt very worn. He could barely make out any letter of the title, except perhaps a G.

"No," she said quietly. She seemed small then, looking nervous and sounding uncertain. "That's why it's a gift."

He picked the book up gingerly, running his thumb across the faded green sword that was engraved into the black cover. He held it for a long time, staring at the worn away words. He simply couldn't discern the scuffed out letters, and so he began to flip through it. The pages were beaten and yellowed, crisp lines marking where past readers had dog-eared corners.

"You stupid girl," he murmured, closing his eyes.

She said nothing for a few minutes. Levi almost dozed off.

"Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," Mikasa said suddenly.

"What're you talking about now…?" Levi asked, muffling a yawn.

"The title." Mikasa took the book, and Levi heard the fluttering of pages. "Sir Gawain and…"

He was asleep before she could finish her sentence. The sound of her quiet voice lulled at his senses, sending him into a blanket of easy blackness.

Chapter Text

The months slipped away from them as Levi's leg healed slowly. He tried to hide it as best he could. He began to take Mikasa out with him as a precaution, his paranoia creeping. She followed him without complaint, though he realized quickly that he was in the wrong to drag her into his crimes. Sure, she was useful when relaying messages or spying, but he wanted to keep her in the dark to the extent of his sins.

He noticed one chilly day, after a week of wind chills and severe storms, that Mikasa looked paler than usual. It was over breakfast that he studied her movements as she read his book in silence. It was his old book of fairy tales that she read, her head bent low and her hair pooling across the pages in thick inky strands. Her spoon rested forgotten against her left palm, her porridge untouched.

"Eat," Levi said. Mikasa looked up suddenly, blinking at him with a murky gaze. Her eyes were glassy, dazed into a trance. He found himself growing increasingly concerned. "Mikasa, is your nose running?"

"No."

Levi stood up, watching as her body went a little tense. Yes, he'd caught her in a lie. It was apparent in the way she tucked her chin to her chest. He maneuvered around the table, standing over her with his chin raised high. He stared down his nose at her, and frowned a little at the way she shrunk away from him. It wasn't that she was scared of him. Levi knew her enough by now to assume that she was simply ashamed of whatever ailed her.

He dropped to one knee and grabbed her by her hair, tilting her head back. He shoved a napkin against her face, grimacing as he pinched her nose. "Blow," he ordered.

She took the napkin from him, acquiescing in blowing her nose against the handkerchief. He made careful haste to smooth back her hair, pressing his palm against the skin of her forehead. The heat that radiated from beneath was enough to convince him, but he checked once more with the back of his hand anyway. The results were the same. Mikasa was unnaturally warm, and her pallid skin was clammy to the touch.

"You're warm and gross," Levi said. "How long have you been sick?"

She lowered her gaze, and he could see her cheeks gain a slight tint. She sniffled, wiping at her nose as she lowered the napkin. "Oh." Her voice sounded much more congested now. "I don't know."

"Idiot," Levi spat. He resisted the urge to grab her by the hair again. He spun away from her, moving toward the sink to wash his hands. "Go wash yourself, and then go to bed."

"But…" Mikasa fidgeted, and he glanced back at her as he scrubbed at his knuckles. "I'm not tired…"

"Do I look like I give a fuck about whether or not you're tired?" Levi flicked off the faucet, drying off his hands against the towel hanging beside the sink. "You should have told me you were sick immediately."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Levi said through gritted teeth. "Just do what you're told."

And she did. She didn't need anymore goading. She fled into the bathroom quite fast, leaving behind an uneaten breakfast, and a sullied napkin. Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He didn't mean to be so harsh on her, but he wasn't quite sure how else to deal with her. Why didn't she just tell me? Levi stared at his beaten old fairy tale book, and if he really looked, he could still see the ghosts of stains smeared across the cover. He flipped the book over, making a mental note to disinfect it later.

He left Mikasa a pair of clothes outside the bathroom door, and then he shrugged on a jacket over his thin cotton shirt. It was black, and a little shabby, but he owned nothing that was particularly nice. The rain had turned to sleet over night, and there was a thin coating of ice licking at the stone streets. He pulled up a hood, shoving his hands into his pockets as he ducked through the downpour. He walked with a bowed head, and a heavy heart, wondering why Mikasa had hid it from him. It bothered him much more than it should have.

"Schatz," Levi said, letting himself into the small tavern. The woman was actually serving someone, which honestly confused him. It must have been later than he thought.

"Well, hey," Schatz said, cracking a lazy smile. "If it isn't the little bastard himself. What do you need this time?"

Levi stood for a few moments, staring at the splotchy-faced woman. Greta Schatz was not particularly pretty, nor could Levi ever remember he being so. She'd always been plain, with a horribly impish look about her. Even now with her alert gaze and coy smile she seemed a little off. Levi didn't know why he kept wandering back to her. It was probably more about trust than anything else. At least he knew she'd never turn him in.

"Do you have anything to treat a fever?" he asked slowly. He felt awkward going to Schatz for this. He knew he should get a real doctor involved eventually, and he would. If Mikasa's condition worsened. But for now, he had to assume it was a normal cold. It better be, he thought, scratching at his cracked knuckles pensively. There were some cold memories he did not want to dig up. Let the dead lie, he whispered to himself.

"Do I look like an apothecary?" Schatz asked.

"No," Levi said, "you look like a sleazy barmaid. Don't fuck around with me, Greta. Not today."

Schatz looked a little stunned that he had used her first name. Levi hated to act too familiar around Schatz, though sometimes he wondered if it was obvious how long they had known each other. Schatz was very nearly ten years older than him, and it often felt like more than that. In all honesty, being around her made him feel like a sullen child again. He was thankful she didn't treat him like one. Anymore.

"Oh," Schatz said. She glanced at other person at the bar, an elderly woman, and she chose to ignore her. "The kid got sick? How'd you let that happen?"

"It was the weather," Levi said. He told himself that. And after all, Mikasa was from rural Wall Maria. The living conditions were likely different within a town— or even a city, if Yalkell could be considered that. It could be any number of variables that had set off the illness. But it had nothing to do with germs. Levi was certain of that.

"Yeah, okay." Schatz waved him over. "I think I have something in the back that you can use."

Levi followed her into the storeroom, which was unsurprisingly stocked to the brim with various bottles of alcohol and herbs. He let Schatz do the sifting. He was surprised she even managed to keep the drug stash— but then again, they were both in deep with the wrong sorts of people. He didn't know why anything surprised him anymore.

"Okay," Schatz said, "this stuff isn't usually used for medical use—"

"Schatz," Levi said. "This is for a nine year old girl. If it's dangerous— or addicting—I'm not taking it."

"Then go to a doctor," Schatz stated dryly.

He ended up accepting the herbs tentatively. They were in a small pouch, and when he pulled at the drawstrings it yawned open. "I'm not going to give her this shit if it makes her sicker," Levi said, yanking the pouch closed. Schatz frowned, and folded her arms across her chest. Her expression was a little exasperated, and he leaned back against a shelf to study her. She was getting old. That was strange to think about. But then, he thought, she's always been old.

"Have a little faith in me, Levi," Schatz said, her eyes drooping a little. "I'm a little more experienced with kids than you are. This will work."

He couldn't argue with her on that front. She was undeniably correct. She knew much more about taking care of a child than he did. But didn't it count for something that he was trying? Didn't she see how frustrating this was for him? Levi had to close his eyes to keep his anger in check. Why didn't she just tell me…?

"So…" Levi said, tossing the pouch from hand to hand. "Do I just make a tea with this shit?"

"Yeah, that should work." Schatz smirked, and then she peered at him with her sharp blue eyes alight. "Hey, when was the last time you were sick, anyway?"

He said nothing. He stared down at the pouch of herbs, and he wondered if she could read his face like she used to. He doubted it. Time had hardened him as tempering did a sword. One wave of crushing horror after enough, dipping him into a sea of cruel realities and bloody dreams. But even so, his found himself immersed in a chilly silence. He looked up at her, his eyes boring into hers. For a moment, she looked startled, her lips parting and closing. He turned away from her, exiting the storeroom without speaking a word.

When was the last time he had been sick?

When was the last fucking time?

The memory was cold. Everything had been cold, and his thin cotton sheets had done nothing but cling to his sticky skin as he'd shivered and shuddered, blinking in and out of consciousness. He recalled the smell of vomit, the taste of it fresh on his tongue. And he remembered opening his eyes, light streaking across his vision in a stinging ribbon of yellow and white. He remembered a hand sliding beneath his neck, propping his body up ever so slightly. And he remembered the bubbling in his chest, the painful build up of something festering inside him. A monster, he had thought. It had grown inside of him, and now it was clawing its way up his throat, tearing away chunks of his insides with steely claws. The cough released had been monstrous, tearing away from a tiny body like it had been fighting forever to be released. It had left him shaking as it cracked and trembled across the air, sharp and relentless, and when it was done it had left his throat raw. His mouth had tasted bitter, like he'd gnawed on metal. He had felt the blood dribbling down his chin.

He wished he could call it a small miracle that he had survived that. But it hadn't been.

"No…" He had been delirious. Dazed, weak, and fumbling for some sort of salvation. But he remembered speaking. He remembered it with the clarity of clouds suddenly parting from his senses. He had fought against a steady hand, staring at the bowl full of a pasty substance with glazed eyes, and a parted, bloody mouth. "No, stop..."

"Levi!"

He turned to look at Schatz. He tried to recall the girl from his memory, but in all honesty he had no idea if Schatz had been there or not. It had never been an important detail of that particular memory, so he'd forgotten it. Did it matter? No. He didn't care if Schatz had seen him as a weak, dying child. Because Schatz was not important. Schatz had been there, or she hadn't— he honestly had no clue.

Someone else had been there, though.

"Hey, what did I say this time?" Schatz asked.

"Nothing." Levi found he was very annoyed with her. As useful as she was, she could be nosy and chatty. And worst of all, he felt that for all of the time they'd been around each other, sometimes it was like they didn't know each other at all. But then, what the hell did Levi know? Schatz was the closest thing he could call family. Except, of course, Mikasa.

"No, I definitely set you off." Schatz drummed her fingers against the bar, and frowned at him. "C'mon, tell me. Is it something obvious?"

"Schatz," Levi said. "No."

He shook his head and walked away. He didn't bother thanking her. She didn't deserve it. Wrong, a small voice in his head murmured. Always wrong about everyone, aren't you? Levi glared ahead of him. Whatever the shit Schatz had given him had better be worth it.

The chill was creeping up his spine. Rain and ice gathered around feet, cracking beneath his boots as he walked. He was clutching the pouch full of herbs in one hand, shielding it from the sleet with his sleeve. The cold was biting at him, laughing with a sharp tongue, and it lashed against his cheeks. He had to remind himself that Mikasa was not him, and what happened in his own childhood was far from what was happening to her. It was just a cold. Children got colds… right?

He couldn't pretend to be an expert on children. Likewise, he couldn't pretend he knew what he was doing when he was taking care of Mikasa.

It was odd, feeling clueless. And it was total bullshit.

When he got home he put the kettle on, and stared at the pouch of herbs. There wasn't much in there. He frowned, and prepared a cup with haste. If anything, he did trust Schatz. There was no reason for this not to work. And so he shouldered open the door to his room, cup in hand, and he stood in the doorway for a moment as he peered at Mikasa's bundled form. She was curled up beneath the blankets, nothing but a tuft of black feathers visible from the top of the cocoon.

The cup was searing into his palm as he edged closer to her. "Mikasa," he said. She stirred almost immediately, and the blanket slid from her face as she propped herself up on her elbow. She blinked rapidly, murky black eyes swimming in an unfocused glaze.

"Levi," she murmured, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm.

"Don't touch your eyes," he said, swatting her hand away. "Or your nose, or your mouth."

"Oh," she said, her voice thick with sleep and congestion. "Okay…"

"Sit up," he said, pressing his hand between her shoulder blades. She obliged, the blanket crumpling into her lap. She asked no questions when he held the cup to her lips, and again he was finding himself comparing her behavior to his own. She gulped the tea down without complaint, taking it in her hands and staring into the emptiness of the cup when she had finished.

For him, it had been quite different.

"No," he had rasped, blood pooling on his tongue and spraying into the air. "No, stop…" He recalled the feeling of his nails raking against flesh as he fought, the rim of a bowl pressing to his ashen lips. "G-get it away—"

"Hey," Mikasa said quietly, still staring into her cup. "Levi?"

He looked down at her, and then turned his face to the window. The shutters rattled against the wind. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Can you…" She bit her lip, and she bowed her head low. He noticed how her hair obscured her face, and he frowned. "Can you… um… read to me?"

That was not what he had expected. At all. "What?" he asked, blinking down at her. "Why? You know how to read."

"Yeah…" Mikasa tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I tried, but the words are blurry. My eyes keep watering."

Mikasa's face was unreadable, but Levi could tell that she was earnest. He couldn't help but wonder though. Was this the girl's strange play at manipulation? It might have been amusing, if he hadn't fallen for it. Levi knew he could have said no. "No. You need to get some sleep." Or, "No. I'm not your father, and I don't have to do anything for you."

He took the book of fairy tales from the beside table.

"Which one?" he asked, flipping open the cover.

"The Shadow."

Levi raised his eyes to hers, and he tilted his head. Of course, he'd read the book more times than he could count. So he knew each story quite well. "Don't you want something…" He drummed his fingers against the cover, and grimaced. "Happier?"

"That's the story I left off on," Mikasa said.

Levi shrugged. "Suit yourself."

His voice softened as he began to read, and he took pauses every so often to check Mikasa's face. She was steadily beginning to drift off into slumber, her muddy black eyes growing heavy with every crisply spoken word. She held on, though, and listened to every word with her eyes following the movements of Levi's lips.

"One day the master said to the shadow, "We have grown up together from our childhood, and now that we have become travelling companions, shall we not drink to our good fellowship, and say thee and thou to each other?"" Levi's fingernails dug into the book's leathery cover. ""What you say is very straightforward and kindly meant," said the shadow, who was now really master. "I will be equally kind and straightforward. You are a learned man, and know how wonderful human nature is. There are some men who cannot endure the smell of brown paper; it makes them ill. Others will feel a shuddering sensation to their very marrow, if a nail is scratched on a pane of glass. I myself have a similar kind of feeling when I hear any one say thou to me. I feel crushed by it, as I used to feel in my former position with you. You will perceive that this is a matter of feeling, not pride. I cannot allow you to say thou to me; I will gladly say it to you, and therefore your wish will be half fulfilled." Then the shadow addressed his former master as thou."

He paused. The rain beat at the window relentlessly, dribbling down the glass like rivulets down a pallid chin. Mikasa was watching him with her murky eyes in a daze.

"Levi," she said. "Levi, your hands are shaking."

He closed the book with a snap, and set it back down on the bedside table. "Go to sleep," he said, snatching the cup from her hands and resting it beside the book.

"What's wrong?" Mikasa asked, bolting up straight as he turned away from her. His footsteps were heavy as he reached the door. "No. No, stop." He froze at the door, his fingers hovering over the knob. "Don't go."

He stared at his fingers. They were white and trembling with rage. Why? He gritted his teeth. What the fuck am I so angry about?

He left the room, slamming the door behind him. He listened, wondering if he might hear the sound of a child sobbing if he waited long enough. But if Mikasa was upset, she made no sign of it. And Levi rested his back against the door, slumping as his body slid down to the floor, his legs folding beneath him.

What am I doing? he wondered. What am I doing…?

That was the problem. He didn't know.

The illness passed easily, and the weather got worse. Slush clung to the streets, brown and mushy and glistening in the sun. Levi cajoled the date of her birth out of her, but was a little lost when he realized something crucial. He had no idea what to do for her. It was undeniably stupid, but he felt compelled to do something.

"Stop that," Levi snapped at her the morning of her birthday, after catching her throwing snowballs with the other children on the street. He had her by the wrist, and he forced her to drop the icy, white and brown slush. It fell to the ground and burst upon impact, a thousand glittering crystals shattering against stone. The other children had stopped in shock of him, staring at him with fear glistening in their eyes. Levi studied Mikasa's palm, which was an angry red color, bitten ruddy by the snow. "Are you trying to get sick again, idiot?"

"I was just playing," Mikasa said. She had the gall to sound almost confused.

"Yes," Levi said, "because throwing ice shit at each other looks so fun. And sanitary." He grasped her wrist tighter. "Let's go."

Mikasa looked a little stunned as she was dragged away from the other children by the hand. Her palm was icy against his, like porcelain glass. Her hair was bundled around her shoulders, windswept and feathery. She hung close to Levi's side, and stared ahead with her mouth parting up at him. Her fingers closed his, frozen and wet.

"I'm sorry," Mikasa said. "I really was just playing…"

For a moment, Levi truly felt sorry for snapping at her. "Next time," he said, tossing her hand away to open the door, "wear gloves."

Mikasa stared at him. She nothing, but appeared rather stunned. She stood, cupping her hands as he paused in the doorway. He glanced back at her. "What?" he asked. "What's that fucking face for?"

"What are you doing home?" Mikasa asked, rubbing her knuckles pensively. He wondered if her fingers were numb from the snow.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Mikasa said, giving him a long stare, "you're never home at this time. Ever."

"Well I came home early." Her eyes narrowed. She doesn't believe me, he thought. "I can take a day off, you know."

"Can you?"

"What?" Levi scowled. "You want me to leave?"

"No," Mikasa said. "I want you to stay."

"Then what the hell is your problem?"

Mikasa wound her sleeve around her hand, sending the red hue a deep crimson from the wetness of her palm. She shrugged, and stepped up onto the stoop. "You're acting stupid," she told him.

"Stupid." He stared at her face, and he shook his head. "I'm the stupid one. Just get in here already, you little bitch."

She did, but only after giving him a rather sharp look. She slipped off her boots at the door, and ran to wash her hands before Levi could snap at her to. When she was done, she wandered over to the couch where he was sitting.

"What is that?" she asked, staring at the small parcel he had produced from his pocket. He spun it between his fingers, the paper crumpling against the pressure. There was a red ribbon wrapped around the parcel twice, and spun into a bow. He felt awkward as he continued to spin it. She sat down tentatively beside him, watching the movements of his fingers with attentive eyes. "Levi?"

"Here." He held it out to her lazily. "Happy Birthday."

She stared at the parcel with her eyes flashing wide. She took it delicately into her hands, as if she thought it might shatter at any moment. "Oh…" Mikasa shook her head, and she looked at him with her face melting into a confused sort of daze. "You didn't have to—"

"Just open it," Levi sighed, slumping against the couch.

"Okay…" She bit her lip, and carefully tugged at the red ribbon. It unfurled into her hand, and she rested the parcel on her lap, pulling the ribbon up to her face. It swung lazily, curling against the air in a silken gleam of crimson.

"What?" Levi studied her face. "It's just a damn ribbon."

"It's…" Mikasa seemed to struggle to find the right word. She touched the ribbon tenderly with the tips of her fingers. "Pretty."

Pretty? Levi stared at the child, wondering how on earth her fucked up mind worked. He was struck with an idea. He plucked the ribbon from between her fingers, much to her alarm, and he touched her shoulder gently. "Here," he repeated, brushing her hair aside. "Turn a little bit."

She turned her back to him, and he gathered up her feathery black hair, sliding the ribbon beneath it. He wrapped it carefully around her head, and angled it to the right as he tied the loose ends into a bow. When he was done, her long hair was pushed back from her face except for the shorter strands that simply refused to stop framing her cheeks. He watched her touch the bow with tentatively fingers.

"Huh," Levi said, studying her face as she turned back to him. "No, that's no better…"

"I like it."

"You haven't even seen it," Levi said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't need to." She picked up the parcel again, the corners of her lips turned up. "I know that I like it."

"You're a weird fucking kid, Mikasa," Levi said. He watched her peel back the paper, trying very hard not to rip it.

When she finally got the gift free, she stared at it for a very long time. She picked up the small dagger, which was in a leather sheath. She ran her fingers over it, her eyes drooping a little as she closed her fingers around the sheath and yanked at it. It came off easily, and revealed a gleaming blade. Levi could see the girl's reflection in the glistening edge. She held it up to the light, and her head tilted curiously.

"I want you to keep it on you all the time," Levi said. "Just in case someone tries to steal you again."

"I don't want to kill anyone else," Mikasa said quietly, sheathing the blade once again.

The words sunk in. They were pitifully sad, and he watched and wondered. He'd killed a lot of people. He sometimes did it without thought or feeling or remorse. He did it because he was angry sometimes— like when Mikasa had been captured. Both times he had needlessly spilt more blood than he'd intended. And that had been his own rage working against him.

The rage was building up. He could feel it bubbling beneath his skin. A small child might say, "I don't want to kill anyone." And they could mean it with all of their broken little heart. But what did that mean in the end, when the child was crouching in a corner, blood bathing his arms and spattered across his pale little face, and he clutched a knife so tightly in his hands that it bit into his skin?

He rested a hand on Mikasa's head, his fingers burying into the inky feathers of her hair. "Mikasa," he said quietly. "The world is too cruel for wishes like that."

She sat in silence, fingering at the hilt of the blade. Her thumb drew across the crossguard, and her shoulders hunched a little in tension. "Maybe…" she said, her voice drifting in its soft, vague way. She raised her fingers to the red ribbon tied atop her head, and she gingerly ran them across the bow. "But… don't you think… that maybe it can be beautiful too?"

His hand dropped to his side. Her words were odd and silly, but they hit him hard nonetheless. They were genuine, and heartfelt, spoken hesitantly and doubtfully. As if she wondered if she was in the right to believe so.

Levi turned his face away from her. "Maybe," he said softly, closing his eyes. "Maybe…"

As the weather got warmer, Levi began to take Mikasa up to the roof at night to watch the stars. At first she had been rather stunned that he could suggest something so trivial. But then, his only book for a good portion of his life had been a book of fairytales. Watching the stars was not something so incredibly outlandish, was it?

They often didn't speak when they did this. Sometimes Mikasa even fell asleep in her perch, her back resting against the slant of the roof. But that was rare. She was more alert than him usually, and she had her eyes upon the stars with her eyes glowing in their childlike contentment. When she had asked why he did this, he told her the truth. When he'd been younger, he had watched the stars.

"Me too," Mikasa admitted quietly.

He looked at her, watching her hug her knees to her chest. Her head was hung back, and her black hair blended into the night around her, fluttering against the breeze.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah…" Mikasa's head rested against the shingles behind her. "My papa would… would wake me up sometimes, if the night was clear." She sounded distant and sad. "Did anyone ever watch them with you?"

Levi gritted his teeth. He closed his eyes, letting the visions of glinting lights in the sky die into hollow blackness. He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to lie and say that no one had ever cared for him enough for that. She would believe that, wouldn't she? But he didn't lie.

"Sometimes," he said. "Not often. Schatz would sit with me, if she found me on the roof." He scoffed, and opened his eyes. "Mostly because I wouldn't go back inside, no matter how much she fucking screamed." He grimaced at the memory.

"Schatz." Mikasa turned to face him. "The lady from the tavern?"

It was easy to forget that Mikasa knew next to nothing about him. "Yeah, her." Levi stared upward, and he shrugged. "I never told you about her?"

"You said you didn't trust me."

"Did I?" Levi didn't remember that. "Oh. Well, she's a fucking bitch. But, a trustworthy one, at least."

"You told me that."

Levi gave her a sharp look, which she ignored promptly. Sometimes she's too bold, and sometimes she's too meek, Levi thought. There's no winning. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." She sat up straighter to face him. "Why did she scream at you? She… she's not your mom, is she?"

He almost laughed at that. He managed a grimace, and he shook his head a little in disgust. "No, not my mom." He shrugged a little. "I grew up with her. At an orphanage."

"You're an orphan?" she asked, staring down at his face. He was leaning back, and she was leaning over him. Her hair was tickling his cheek. He thought he could hear the unspoken "too" resonating against the wavering breeze.

"I… don't know." Levi didn't like talking about himself. But he felt that he owed it to Mikasa. At least a little bit. She had stuck with him despite everything, and she was not the worst sort of family to have. Maybe she had the right to know. "Apparently I was found wandering the streets when I was two, or some dumb shit like that. So I couldn't tell you what happened to my parents."

"Well then," Mikasa said, her eyes widening, "how do you… how do you know your name is Levi? Didn't your parents call you that?"

"No." Levi let the stars burn into his eyes. "The orphanage did. Before they found me, I was no one."

"Is that why you don't have a last name?"

"Yep."

The silence spread out between them, flexing like wings about to take flight. And then a gust of wind slammed against them, sending them clinging to the roof for support. Black feathers tangled against the air, and then settled against hunched red shoulders.

"Do you want a last name?" she asked suddenly, shattering the silence.

"What?" Admittedly, he had not been paying attention. He had no idea what she could mean by that.

"You could be Levi Ackerman," Mikasa said, her dark eyes shadowed in the darkness.

That sent a strange sort of shudder through his stomach. "That sounds stupid," Levi said flatly.

"Oh."

Levi said nothing else out of fear that he might agree with her.

He wasn't certain how long she had lived with him. Over a year, certainly. And the truth was, he was all too comfortable with Mikasa Ackerman. He felt an attachment to her that he couldn't say he felt for anyone else. Family. He had family. He, the boy who no one had ever wanted, had a family in this stupid, broken little girl. And he was fiercely protective of that.

One day he'd been teaching her to braid her hair, after realizing that the length might annoy her at times. She sat on her knees, her fingers lazily gliding against the thick feathers of her hair. She was clumsy, uncertain of where to fold in and fold out. She began to get it eventually.

"Can I braid your hair?" Mikasa asked, letting go of the dainty braid she'd created. He captured it, and pulled it into the thicker braid he was creating at the back of her head.

"No." Levi fidgeted a little, his legs folded beneath him. "My hair is too short."

"I could do it."

He rolled his eyes. "You're too confident," Levi said, tying up the bottom of the braid with her red ribbon. It had become a favorite of hers. She refused to not have it on. "Try if you want."

She turned to face him, her smile small and almost secret as she scooted closer, tugging at the ends of his hair. He winced as she kept tugging, and began to twist at the dark strands around his ears. Levi sat patiently as he waited for her to give up. Of course, she didn't, and he was left to deal with her relentless tugging until she tapped his shoulder and said to him, "I need to tie it."

"I don't have a tie."

The girl seemed to slump a little in disappointment. She let the small braid go, and it unfurled against his ear, bursting apart without her fingers to pinch it together. She looked nice with her hair pulled back, almost put together in comparison to her usually unkempt appearance. He had no right to talk. Just as often as he tried to make himself look presentable, he looked like a thug.

They both leapt to her feet as the sound of loud voices crept from behind the door. Mikasa ran to the window, throwing it open and peering into the street as they watched trails of people go rushing down the walkways, babbling and whispering and crying out into the air in panic and shock. Levi stood for a moment, his fingers resting subconsciously against the knife strapped beneath his sleeve.

He could hear words drifting against the din. "Colossal…" and "Titans…" and "Wall Maria…"

And worst of all, "Fallen!"

"Mikasa," Levi said, his stomach twisting horribly. "Shut the window."

"But…" Mikasa's fingers were white against the window frame. "Wall Maria…"

Levi wanted to tell her that it wasn't important. He wanted the slam the window shut, to grab her by the shoulders and tell her that it wasn't important at all, that everything was fine. How foolish that was. How idiotic and cruel he'd be to lie to her like that. He would not be protecting her by shielding her from the world. He'd be killing her.

"Grab your sweater," Levi ordered. Mikasa turned to look up at him, her braid bobbing against her back. "Let's see what's going on."

Mikasa ran to her room while Levi was left to stare out the window. The drifts of people began to thin out as they moved. Wall Maria, Levi thought. Fallen to Titans? The thought seemed too horrible to entertain. He shuttered the windows once more, and walked to the door. Mikasa exited her room, moving to Levi's side and taking his hand. He gripped it tightly, pulling her into the street without hesitation.

They moved quickly and quietly, slipping between the crowds as they moved closer to the gates. As always, Mikasa stuck close to his side, and they reached a stand still as the crowds became congested. "What's going on?" Mikasa asked.

Levi, in all honesty, had not much of a clue. He heard men called for the crowd to part not too far ahead, and the sound of hooves clopping against stone above the din of voices. Cries of questions and confused shouts. He gripped Mikasa tighter, and he looked around. He spotted a rail near by, and he jerked his chin at it. She didn't need to be told anything, and they both pushed through the swarm. Levi climbed atop the rail, and jumped, catching a gutter and flipping himself easily onto the precarious slant of a roof. He waited and watched as Mikasa moved fluidly after him, mimicking his movements to near perfection.

He grasped her arm as she landed beside him, her braid falling against her shoulder. The red bow fluttered a little against the wind.

"Levi," she said, blinking up at him. He pulled her up and dragged her across the roof top, holding onto her hand tightly. He stopped, letting his body rest against its perch. He saw the crowd parting for the downtrodden figures coming up through the street. What is this, Levi thought with disgust, a parade of the weak? Levi could only find the sight of these people, who obviously had seen hell, to be humiliating and tiresome. "Aren't they…?"

"The Survey Corps," Levi said, resting his shoulder against the roof. "They don't usually come by this way."

They passed by the ground below, green figures moving slowly, as if the entire world had fallen atop their shoulders. The world was pinning down the wings of freedom. It was a funny thought. The trudging movements of the soldiers made them look jaded and sad, and Levi couldn't grasp what drove them forward. Humanity, he thought, is so fucking strange.

As Levi studied the faces below, he suddenly froze. He could feel his body coiling with tension as one face stuck with him, floating against the chasm of his mind. His fingernails dug into the shingles of the roof as he stared, the familiarity stinging like a slap in the face, ricocheting like a phantom voice in the dark. The horror settled quickly. The rage burst through him like a flame that had never quite gone out, sputtering into life again with a vehemence.

Look up, Levi dared, his heart hammering inside his chest with an unsteady rhythm. There was a taste of terror burning at the back of his throat. There was an ethereal craze that was haunting him, bleeding into his skin and locking his muscles into a vise hold. There was no way to control it. Levi had no intention to. The only thing that mattered now was his wrath, and his memory. Look at me, damn it.

A man with pale hair arched his neck back, his eyes sweeping the rooftop. The face was familiar. And Levi loathed it with every solitary fiber of his being.

In a strange half a heart beat, their eyes met. The gaze was held with the same seething tension as an arm being held above an open flame. The recoil was harsh, and the burn was harsher— it ached and peeled and scarred until there was always a reminder of what happened when one treaded where they should not.

Levi was the flame. And the man's head snapped back to attention, his eyes staring hollowly ahead of him.

And yet, the wings emblazoned on Erwin Smith's back branded themselves into Levi's mind.

"Levi," Mikasa said, grasping his hand. "What's wrong?"

There was a strange sense of guilt there as his mind shoved his heart aside.

He squeezed her fingers anyway. He needed the comfort, for what he was about to do.

"Mikasa," he said, his voice empty. I'm so sorry, he wished he could say. There was a hollow place inside him, a hole with a monster twisting around it, guarding its empty secrets. The hatred he bore the bastard, who was now nothing but another green cloak in the parade of fools, was ineffable. His bones were tingling with apprehension and disgust. "I'm going to join the Survey Corps."

Chapter Text

There had been no begging. There had been no tears. There had been a period of awkwardness between them, a chasm that was developing as Levi got the preparations in order. She didn't speak to him for a week after the papers had gone in out of pure pettiness. Mikasa had sensed his frustrations over her silence from the moment she withdrew from him, and out of bitterness she decided to test just how angry she could make him.

Yell at me, Mikasa begged, staring into his eyes after he'd dragged her back to the house from playing ball with Stefan and Kaethe and Ada and Pieter and Lisbet and Rob and… and she knew there were more, but she didn't care for their names. The faces changed daily. The heels of her palms and her knees were skinned. Her red dress was smeared with a coating of dirt, and there was blood dribbling down her leg. Go on, Levi, yell at me.

He took a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Mikasa," he said, his jaw clenching. Yell at me! "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

She averted her gaze, pressing her lips together thinly. There was a prickle of shame as she turned her head from him, defiant to give in to him. No. She would not speak to him. She didn't care how silly it made her seem, or how petty. She was angry, and she was upset. Yell at me, damn it!

Instead of yelling, he grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her to the sink, shoving her bloody hands under the faucet. She recoiled in shock, blinking rapidly against the harsh sting, and she twisted away from him while biting her tongue. It hurt a lot, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he began to dab at her fleshless palms with a cloth. The bite of pain tingled up her arms, shaking her nerves.

"This isn't going to work," he informed her, taking one of her injured hands delicately. She had her head bowed, her hair curtaining her face. "You don't need to grab at my attention. You already have it." He pressed the damp cloth to her shredded palm, and she gritted her teeth. "It's not gonna stop me, though."

She looked up at him. Stared into his eyes, gave him a long, pitilessly hollow gaze. He returned one to her in kind. He pressed his hand into the damp cloth against her palm.

He made her sit down while he disinfected her knees. As he knelt, pressing a bandage against the skinned appendage, she found her voice. It was sharp and bitter inside her throat, scratching against her insides and smashing against her outsides.

"Why?" she asked, not for the first time. She watched him pause, his thumbs resting against her knee. "Why the Survey Corps? Why now?"

He sat crouching for a few moments before his hands dropped against his knees. "Mikasa…" His jaw shifted, signifying that he could not think of anything to say. She watched him chew on the inside of his cheek, and stare vacantly down at the bandage he had just applied.

"You shouldn't do it." Mikasa's shoulders were squared as she spoke, and she raised her head high. "Don't do this, Levi."

"It's already done."

Of course she knew that. She knew it so well, and it ached inside her heart. The knowledge that soon he would be gone. Soon he could be dead.

"What if you get eaten?" she asked, searching his face. "Kaethe keeps saying that's all the Survey Corps is good for." She watched his body, but he seemed to be unmoved by her statements. "Being eaten…"

"Kaethe is a bitch," Levi said. "Get new friends."

"Levi," Mikasa said, feeling a little desperate. "You don't have to join the Survey Corps—"

"Mikasa, I told you I don't want to fucking hear it."

"— You can join the Military Police—"

He scoffed at that.

"— Or the Garrison—"

"I'm joining the Survey Corps, Mikasa," Levi said firmly, taking both her hands. She stared at him, watching his eyes soften considerably. If she looked hard enough, she could see an apology written inside the depths of them. "It's the only reason I fucking enlisted."

"But why?" Mikasa was growing impatient. She grabbed his hands, which were clutching hers, and she ignored the horrible ache in them. He ignored that she was smearing blood across his fingers. "What happened? Is it because of Wall Maria? You can't reclaim it, and you know it. It's not possible."

"You're pretty cynical," Levi said, "for a bratty girl who hasn't even seen Wall Maria in a year and a half."

"I'm not wrong."

"I didn't say that," Levi said. He was still crouched before her, clutching her hands tightly. "But it changes nothing. My goals have nothing to do with Wall Maria."

"You're not going to tell me," Mikasa said. The quiet revelation stung more than any skinned knee, or hand. She felt like she had skinned her heart instead.

"I'll write."

"Will you?"

He scowled at her. "Why are you acting so bitchy all of a sudden?" He pushed himself to his feet. "I'm not trying to get away from you. I'll try to visit as much as I can."

"Visit." The word tasted like betrayal.

"Stop looking like that."

She'd been staring at her hands in dejection. She looked up at him, blinking confusedly. "What?" she asked.

"You look like I just killed a puppy, or something dumb like that." Levi stood rigidly, and she wondered what he was thinking. "Stop it."

She sat for a minute or so, simply staring up at him. Mikasa felt the truth beginning to gnaw at her. She would be alone soon. Totally and completely alone in a big, cruel world. She had asked if it was possible for her to come with him before. It was not. She was still under the age requirement to join the military. And Mikasa honestly had no real desire to join the military. She disliked the MPs, and distrusted most people affiliated with the military. And yet…

She felt as though she was being flung into the direction that would lead her to an imminent death. She didn't want to become a soldier. She didn't want Levi to go. She just wanted him to stay home, to forget whatever had swayed him into this horrible decision. She didn't know how to express how terrified she was of losing him, and she didn't think it would matter if she did know. Levi was determined.

"You can ask me to let you go," Mikasa said, her voice sounding dead inside her throat. "But you can't expect me to be happy about it."

Levi's expression softened ever so slightly, his brow wrinkling as he gazed at her. He sat down on the couch beside her, folding his hands in his lap. They sat shoulder to shoulder, staring ahead of them. Mikasa didn't want him to yell at her anymore. She wanted him to muss her hair, to hold her shoulders and bring her to his chest, and tell her that he was sorry.

She just wanted him to say it. Because then, maybe, it would mean that he cared. That he didn't actually want to leave.

But he never apologized. He never breathed a word of regret. He never said he would miss her, or that he wished he could stay.

The day he left, however, he did rest his chin against her hair. That had stunned her a little.

"Don't get into trouble," Levi murmured against her hair. "Promise me, Mikasa."

"I promise." She knew that it was a lie. "You said you'd write?"

"Yeah." He held her hand as he pulled his chin from her hair. He grimaced a little. "I'll try. But…"

"It's okay," Mikasa lied once more. She shook her head. "Just make sure to… to tell me you're alive."

"That," Levi said, "is something I can do."

Mikasa smiled a little as she bowed her head. She held his hand for a little longer, and she sighed. Letting him go was as hard as she thought it would be. "Survive," she whispered. She looked up at him, desperation creeping into her eyes. "Please."

He held her hands tightly in his, and he gave her a very long stare. Please, she thought helplessly. Please don't take him away from me too. He pulled back, but only to reach into his bag. He retrieved a book, and he held it out to her without hesitation. She stared at it for a moment before grasping it by the corners. It was his book of fairytales. The writing glinted against the midday sun, and she could only stare in wonder.

"Levi," she said, "I thought… this book was important to you."

"It is," Levi said, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "But I might end up losing it if I keep it with me." He eyed her, and withdrew his arms. "You should hold onto it for me for a little while."

"Okay." Mikasa hugged the small book to her chest, resting her chin against the top of it. "I'll give it back to you when you come home."

"Good plan."

They stood for a few moments, the sun caressing their cheeks as it glimmered relentlessly. Levi's horse nosed his hand, and Mikasa watched as he absently began to stroke the beast's head. He was watching Mikasa with a long, sad look that he never left his face. He might have been assessing his decision to join the military. He might be feeling regretful.

"Take care of yourself," Levi said suddenly. He said it sharply, his brow furrowing a little as he gazed at her.

"Okay."

"And don't give Schatz any bullshit." Levi's eyes narrowed a little, and Mikasa stared up at him impassively. Was he serious? "Don't be me, okay? It's pretty damn nice of her to take you in like this."

Mikasa didn't answer. Mostly because the first words to graze her tongue were, "Well if you weren't leaving, then she'd have no reason to take me in!" But of course, she said nothing. She merely stared up at Levi, her lips pressing thinly together. The sun trickled down her cheek, burning her skin and glistening against the corner of her lips. It was bursting with light, blinding and hot and fading fast.

Levi's thumb pressed against her cheek, callused and cold, and she closed her eyes as he smeared stardust across her sun-kissed cheek.

"Do you hate me?" Levi asked quietly.

Mikasa couldn't answer this time. She couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't breathe.

"I never promised," Levi whispered, "to take care of you."

"No." Mikasa's voice was clipped and cold. It hurt her throat to talk. "You didn't."

"So…" His thumb brushed against the liquid sunlight, and it glimmered against his skin. "Do you hate me for leaving you?"

She took a deep breath, and it tasted like fire creeping across her tongue.

"No, Levi," she said softly. "I don't hate you."

He tilted his head to the side, and Mikasa thought she saw the ghost of a smile twitching against the corners of his lips. He let his hand fall back to his side, and there were a few moments of them simply watching each other. There was a prayer on her lips. A plea to no one. There was sunshine glinting inside her eyes as he touched her hair.

"Bye, Mikasa," he said. He looked sad and soft and broken.

She took his hand, which rested on her head, and she gripped it tightly. "Goodbye, Levi," she murmured.

It took five more minutes for him to climb onto his horse. He did not turn, or wave back to her, or even acknowledge her presence beyond that point. And she was left to watch his back as it faded amongst pooling yellow sunlight, and glossed over buildings. She held the fairy tales to her chest, and she kissed them with sunburned lips as fiery tears came flooding against her cheeks, splashing to her mouth.

Greta Schatz left her alone until minutes and minutes and minutes ticked by, and there was nothing left to stare at but an empty road. The woman stood behind her, never touching her and never speaking. Mikasa thought, This is the end of the world all over again. And she stood, helpless to nature as she was left behind and lost amongst the bleeding sunshine.

"Mikasa," Schatz said softly. "We should go now."

Mikasa bit back a slew of bitter words that hung heavily inside her mouth. She didn't want to go with Schatz. She didn't want to leave, knowing that she would not be going home. That Levi was not coming home. It sunk in heavily that he might never come home again. That he might die fighting Titans. It was a horrible truth, and she accepted it with a hard gaze and white knuckles.

She grasped Levi's book, and turned away from the street, which she had flooded with sunlight.

Levi had left her in the care of Greta Schatz. And because of that, she had to move out of Levi's small home, and into the even smaller apartment above Schatz's seedy bar. There were two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a small lounging area. Mikasa stood heavily, her body feeling weighed down by the sudden loss.

"Look, it ain't much." Schatz scratched her pinched nose, and shrugged. "Sorry, hun."

"It's fine." Mikasa didn't want to speak to this woman at all. She didn't want to look at her either. She merely stared at her suitcase in the woman's grasp, and swallowed a swear. Levi had wanted her to be good. She had to be good… right?

"This is your room," Schatz said, leading Mikasa into a small bedroom. It was even smaller than the one she'd been sleeping in before, with nothing but a bed and a small wooden wardrobe. The room had an air of desolation to it. It seemed lonely and dusty, unused and forgotten. Mikasa entered the room and sat down on the bed, folding her hands in her lap as she looked around. She noticed there were gouges on the face of the wooden wardrobe. Scratches marred its worn surface, dents and nicks and lacerations.

"Thank you," Mikasa said in an empty voice.

"Yeah." Schatz pressed her lips together, and glanced away from Mikasa's face awkwardly. She drummed her fingers against the doorframe. "It used to be Levi's."

That caught her attention.

"What?" she asked, turning her head toward the woman. She perked up, and leaned forward eagerly. "Levi lived here?"

Schatz looked a little surprised. "Well, yeah," she said. "Didn't he tell you? He lived with me after the orphanage, uh… closed."

"No," Mikasa said, staring at Schatz with wide eyes. She turned back to the beaten wardrobe, and she twisted her red sleeve around her hand anxiously. "No, he never told me that." She looked down at the bed, which was small and plain and pressed against a wall. If Mikasa squinted, she could see gouges in the wall just above the bed as well. "He said you came from the same orphanage."

"Yep." Schatz gave a lazy shrug. "Nothin' special. We didn't even talk that much when we were there together. He was like, six or something when I got a job and moved out on my own."

"So how did he end up here?" Mikasa looked around the little room, and she tried to imagine Levi living in it. A younger Levi. It was very hard to picture, and her brow furrowed in concentration and confusion.

Schatz whistled lowly, and she rocked back and forth in the doorway. "Shit, sweetheart," Schatz said. "I dunno if that's something you wanna hear."

"I do." She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear, and she stood. "I want to know."

"Well, uh…" Schatz looked down at Mikasa, and seemed to weigh her words carefully. "Well, I ended up being the closest thing he had to kin after the orphanage closed. Yeah…"

"Oh…" Mikasa knew that there was more to the story than that. But then, she didn't trust Schatz like Levi did. "Why did the orphanage close?"

Schatz stared at Mikasa's face, her own freckled features going steely. "Not enough kids," Schatz said. Mikasa couldn't even tell if it was a lie or not. It made her angry, and so she spun away from Schatz, staring at the wardrobe with a degree of disdain. "Well, um… I'm going to get back to work. You'll be okay up here by yourself, right?"

"Yeah." Her voice was blunt and low and cold. She didn't want to speak to Schatz anymore.

"Kay…" Schatz rocked back and forth once more, before giving a little wave. "See you, then, Mikasa."

"Bye, Schatz," Mikasa said phlegmatically.

That caused the woman to pause. When Mikasa looked back at her, she was staring at Mikasa incredulously, with sharp eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Okay, listen up," Schatz said, her voice harsh and firm. "You don't call me Schatz, got it? You call me Greta. Levi calls me Schatz because he used to think it was an insult, or something stupid like that." She stood up straight, towering over Mikasa in a fearful height. "And you're not Levi."

Mikasa's fists clenched. She stared at the woman, exhaling sharply through her nose. She couldn't take it any longer.

"Neither are you," Mikasa said coolly.

Greta stared down at Mikasa as if she had snapped and screamed a thousand swears at her. Her splotchy, freckled face became red with anger.

"One day you'll learn, Mikasa," Greta said sharply, "that that is a good thing."

Mikasa jumped a little when she slammed the door shut. The room was left to its haunted quietude, and Mikasa was left feeling guilty and uncertain. No, she hadn't meant to make Greta angry. Her frustration had gotten the better of her. And Levi had told her to be good.

The knowledge that this had once been Levi's room fueled her curiosity. Levi's bedroom, the room she usually slept in, was not as cold and lifeless as this room was. This room felt abandoned. The floorboards creaked underfoot as she moved, studying the marks on the walls. It looked as though various things had been tacked up, but then ripped down. She had to wonder what Levi had been thinking. What he'd been like.

She moved to the wardrobe. It looked like it had never been new, and it was beaten to the point where the wood was beginning to splinter. Mikasa touched the gashes marring the surface of the wood, testing the depth and the height by sticking her thumb into a gouge. She pulled back, and stared up at the wardrobe in confusion. She was confused, yes. And concerned.

Mikasa pulled the knife Levi had given her out from her boot. She studied the gashes for a minute or so before unsheathing the dagger, and wedging its blade against one of the deep lacerations. Blade and gash connected, and there was a moment of triumph for Mikasa as she uncovered some strange mystery about Levi. And his knife. And his room.

She imagined herself in his place. Standing where she stood, a small boy with a small knife in a small room. Had anger sent him into a frenzy? Had he attacked the wardrobe out of fury, or fear, or had he been practicing his precision? Mikasa could not say. She couldn't put herself in Levi's shoes no matter how hard she imagined. She simply couldn't see him slashing at wood with the knife he had gifted to her.

What were you really fighting, Levi?

Months struggled by. Mikasa still helped out at the bookshop, and she still played with Kaethe and Ada. Stefan had faded from the group, and Mikasa was sure he had joined a gang. She didn't care, so long as he kept away from her and the other children. Especially Ada, who was still the youngest. She warned Stefan the next time they met.

"You can't hang around here," Mikasa told him.

Stefan's chubbiness was melting away, and he was growing into a square jaw. "What do you mean?" he asked, scowling at her. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"What you're doing is dangerous," Mikasa said. "For you, and everyone involved with you. Keep the rest of us out of this."

"I don't get it," Stefan said, sounding genuinely shocked. "I mean, it's not like your papa wasn't part of any gangs. I mean, everyone knows that he was a criminal. And you killed someone, Mikasa!"

Mikasa went rigid at the mention of the murder she'd committed. "The difference," she said icily, "between Levi and you, Stefan? It's that Levi was competent. You're an oaf. You couldn't win a fight if you tried."

His eyes snapped wide with fury. "Are you challenging me?" he barked, standing up straighter. He easily towered over Mikasa, but she found him to be more amusing than intimidating.

"No." Mikasa tilted her head up, raising her chin high. "That would mean I actually see you as a threat. I don't."

The rage was palpable. She watched as he took a swing at her, and she dodged it with a great amount of ease, her own balled fist smashing into his ribs and send him flying out of the alley they'd been talking in, and into the street. She watched him tumble and flip over himself, blood smeared against his lips as he clutched his chest in pain.

Mikasa stepped out into the road, ignoring the stares the other children gave her. She stood over Stefan with a bland expression, her eyes hollow as she gazed at him.

"Hey," she said, "Stefan? Fuck you."

He spat blood at her feet.

"You're a heartless bitch, Mikasa," he snarled. "And you're gonna pay for that."

"I might be a bitch," Mikasa said, standing with a strange sense of confidence. You're not Levi. Greta's voice echoed in her head. And it was promptly ignored. "But you're the one who's going to regret this, Stefan. Not me."

She spun away from him, her dark hair gathering at her shoulders as she brushed past the other children and made her way down the road. She had no time or energy to worry about scum like Stefan. All of her concern rested on Levi. All of her energy went into keeping herself busy enough to not think about him. She didn't want to be consumed by her fear of what could be.

"Mikasa," Greta said one day when Mikasa had walked into the tavern. She'd been at the bookshop, and she only reappeared now because Miss Lotte had heard her stomach growling. Mikasa hopped up onto a barstool beside an elder man, swerving from side to side pensively. She decided to ignore Greta, and continue to spin the stool until the woman slapped something down in front of her. It was an envelope.

Mikasa stared at it for a moment, squinting at the lettering beneath Greta's hand.

"If you actually listened," Greta said briskly, not moving her palm from the envelope, "then maybe you'd have bothered to look at the mail this morning."

Mikasa was stunned. "This is for me?" she asked faintly. Then she jumped, grasping the corners of the envelope. "You didn't tell me that."

"Yeah, I did." Greta scowled, and lifted her hand. Mikasa grabbed the letter, and stared at the thick, illegibly scratchy handwriting that could only be Levi's. She noticed how he curled the M of her name, and left the rest of his letters blocky and thick, scribbled across the page hopelessly. She stared at the envelope until Greta snapped her fingers in front of Mikasa's face. "Stop gawking. It's Levi, not the damn king."

Mikasa looked up at her, and she frowned. She pressed the envelope to her chest, and jumped off the stool, spinning away from Greta. She doesn't have to know what's in the letter, Mikasa thought. It's for me, not her.

"Oi!" Greta called after her. "Mikasa, c'mon, don't be such a brat!"

Mikasa fled up the stairs, ignoring the looks she got from the customers. She had bit back something snide at Greta, but only because she really just wanted to read her letter in peace. She didn't want Greta giving her shit later about being rude and unapproachable. Well, Greta, Mikasa thought grumpily, maybe I just don't want to talk to you.

She opened the envelope carefully, sliding the letter out onto her lap as she sat down on her bed. She smoothed it out against her knee, and squinted through Levi's near incomprehensible writing. Mikasa knew her writing wasn't immaculate by any means, but she had always expected Levi's hand to be steady and clear. Broad cursive strokes, perfect and evenly spaced. Mikasa noticed how heavy his letters were, and how squished together the words seemed to be. Letters blurred together, ink bleeding.

After reading the letter a few times, she sat on her bed and stared at the beaten wardrobe across from her.

She reread the letter again. She soaked in every word, and smiled to herself. He'd written. It was short, informal, and awkward, but he had done it. It was all she could ask for. And it made her so inexplicably happy… and so inexplicably sad. But she had no idea how to convey these emotions into words. So instead, she read over Levi's letter again and again until the ink stained her eyes.

Mikasa,

I told you I was going to write. So I'm writing. Happy? I'm fine. Don't bother to ask in your reply, because I'll be fine the next time I write too. Things are fine. Be good.

Levi

She couldn't blame him for writing such a short letter. Her own reply was just as short, and just as awkward and clipped. She simply couldn't write down her feelings. How could she explain to Levi with ink and paper how hollow she felt? How could she explain how desperately sad she was, how much she missed him? How could she beg him to come home, when she was well aware that it was impossible?

Mikasa stuck the letter in the book of fairy tales, and she lay down on her bed with her hair flaring out around her head, tickling her cheeks. She hugged the book to her chest, staring at the ceiling as she thought about what she wanted to tell Levi. There were so many things, and so little, and she couldn't grasp the words. Levi, she thought, Schatz told me to call her Greta. She tells me I'm just like you all the time. A few weeks ago I got into a fight with Stefan. Remember him? He was my friend, but I cast him out because he joined a gang. Is that wrong? I trusted you, knowing what you did for work. Levi, come home, please, I can't stand it here. Please come home.

None of that made it on paper.

The winter came and went, leaving Mikasa with another year on her shoulders. Levi continued to write her on a semi-regular basis. In her last letter, Mikasa had asked if Levi had made any friends in training. His next letter went like this:

Mikasa,

I wouldn't use the word friend. But I've gained an ally or two, which is more than I could ask for, I guess. If you've gotten sick again, tell me. Happy Birthday, by the way. Sorry about the present.

Levi

Inside the envelope was a piece of cloth. Mikasa tugged it out, noting that it was a folded white square. She unfolded it carefully, treating it as delicately as she would a dead leaf. She stared at the white cloth for a long time. It was very small, and it looked as though it had been an unused handkerchief before someone had attacked at it with a needle and thread. The embroidery was makeshift and awkward, uneven stitches running rampant across the white square.

And it was inexplicably beautiful.

She wore it around her neck. When Greta had asked about it, Mikasa had merely covered her mouth with the folds of the bandana, shrugging her shoulders.

"Levi made it."

Greta had laughed so hard she had knocked over a bottle of whiskey.

"No, no, wait!" Greta gasped, wiping a tear as Mikasa turned away toward the stairwell. "Oh, shit, sweetheart, no, come back. It's really cute."

Mikasa came back with darkened eyes. She held the cloth to her mouth defensively.

"Let me see," Greta said, opening her palm. Mikasa begrudgingly handed it over, staring at her warily as she examined the embroidery. Her pinched nose scrunched with contained laughter. "Okay, now that I look at it, I can definitely confirm it to be Levi's handiwork."

Mikasa snatched it back furiously. She clutched it tightly in her fists, and she stared at it for a minute. "I think it's lovely," Mikasa informed Greta.

Greta snorted, and turned away from Mikasa to tend to a customer. "Yeah, okay, hun."

Mikasa gritted her teeth in frustration. "Bitch," Mikasa hissed, whirling away.

Greta had heard her.

"What did you just call me?" she called back, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. Mikasa's cheeks stung with embarrassment, and she fled upstairs in a hurry.

As the afternoons grew hotter, Mikasa was forced to retire the faithful red dress Levi had given her. The dress hem fluttered above her knees, and its sleeves were caught at her elbows. Letting it go had been hard, but she had eventually accepted the cotton shirt and long black skirt that Greta had forced into her arms one evening. Mikasa had also been given a lovely little talk that evening about birds and bees. And Mikasa's only thought afterward was, Oh, so that's where babies come from…

One sweltering summer afternoon had Mikasa sprawled across the floor of Miss Lotte's bookshop, her hair and skirt splayed around her in inky dark pools. She was swimming in blackness and dust, with a book of fairy tales resting against her breast and her eyes closed against the world. Mikasa had long since finished her shift at the store, but she had no desire to return to the tavern. Living with Greta wasn't so bad anymore, but Mikasa still preferred to keep herself busy. At least in the bookstore she could never be bored.

"Mikasa," Miss Lotte said, stepping over her sprawled body as she reached for a shelf. "If you're going to sleep, sleep in the back."

"Mm…" Mikasa opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling sadly. Her skirt was sticking to the back of her thighs. She had been thinking about Levi again, and wondering how training was treating him. She wondered, as she tended to, why he had joined the military in the first place. Hey, Levi, she thought, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head. Sunset burnt shadowy holes into the wooden floor around her, and across the front of the store yellow light danced with fiery vigor against dust and yellowed pages. Trust can only go so far. And I can't trust you if you keep the truth from me.

Mikasa touched the ribbon in her hair, her fingers tickling against the red bow. She trusted Levi with all her heart and soul, but she couldn't fathom why he had not told her this one thing. This one excruciatingly important detail. Couldn't he see how much she needed to know?

Mikasa jumped to her feet, her book dropping to the floor as the sound of glass shattering ricocheted across the room. A mighty crash of solid brick smashing into wood awoke her from her daze, and she grasped Miss Lotte's arms as the woman nearly stumbled to her knees in absolute shock. She held the woman for a moment, staring into her steely eyes worriedly.

"Miss Lotte?" Mikasa asked gently. She followed the woman's gaze to the brick lying on the wooden floor, pressing against a layer of shattered glass. Mikasa's eyes narrowed. "Stay here, Miss Lotte. I can handle this."

She pushed away from the woman, rushing out into the open. The window had a gaping hole in it, jagged teeth of glass glinting against the setting sun. Mikasa's body tensed up in rage. Through the glare of sunlight that breathed into the musty store, she could see the hazy silhouettes of running figures across the street. Mikasa stepped across the floor, bits of glass crunching softly under her boots. She reached up, hefting herself onto the windowsill and swinging her body so it expertly maneuvered through the chasm of broken glass.

Her boots slammed against the road, and she tossed her hair behind her shoulder. She squinted into the sunlight, her body curling in apprehension as she watched the figures bolt down the road. She took a deep breath, and let herself go running. She had already rolled her sleeves up above her elbows, white cotton crinkling against her skin as she streaked against the wind, a black and white blur in a sea of yellow and orange and red burnt streets.

She jumped up, catching a pipe and scaling up onto a roof. The shingles shuddered as she leapt across the slanting surface, rage fueling her movements. She flung herself from rooftop to rooftop, until she had sped for ahead of the black silhouettes she'd been pursuing. She stood up on the roof, her body defying the slanting gravity, and wind kissed her cheeks, toying with the fabric of her skirt and the strands of her hair.

"Hey," Mikasa called, her fingers balling into fists as the gang of teenagers passed. They all froze to look up at her, skidding to a stop. She recognized Stefan's face in the half-dozen. "What are you assholes running from?"

She watched them exchange looks. A boy with greasy hair stepped up, raising his head high.

"Who the fuck are you?" he bellowed up at her.

"That's Mikasa," Stefan whispered, watching Mikasa warily.

"Oooh," the gang crooned. Mikasa's face remained steely, but she was growing angrier and angrier as the seconds ticked past. "So you're the slut who punched Steffie here!"

Mikasa jumped down from the rooftop, landing easily on her feet. Her body was rigid in rage and disgust. "Did you throw the brick into Miss Lotte's store?" Mikasa asked, her voice low and empty. The boy towered over her, and was likely well into his teen years. He had an ugly face, and it wasn't one she would remember long after she made it bloody.

"So what if I did?" The boy pulled out a little carton of cigarettes, and shoved one between his teeth. He struck a match against the wall just behind Mikasa, leaning in far too close for comfort. She resisted the urge to deck him there. After he lit the cigarette, he sucked against the smoldering red paper until it withered ever so slightly. Mikasa stared up at him as he plucked the cigarette from his lips, and released a great plume of smoke into her face. She felt it sting inside her mouth, burning her eyes and nostrils. "What'cha gonna do, sweetheart? Think you can take me?"

He gave a raspy laugh that bounced against smoke and spilling red sunset.

Mikasa twisted his wrist first, forcing the cigarette to drop to the ground before her fist collided with his nose. She listened to it crunch, and felt the immediate stream of blood burst against her knuckles. She whirled around as another boy leapt at her, and she knocked him off his feet, kicking him in the groin and spinning once again to leap at Stefan.

Her rage was all at Stefan.

"M-Mikasa!" Stefan shrieked in pain as her fist connected with his jaw, and then his stomach. And then her fingernails raked his neck. She froze. I could kill him, she thought numbly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I could stab him in the throat. "S-stop, I'm sorr—!"

Mikasa gave a little shout of shock as she was yanked off the boy by either arm, and dragged away. Two MPs forced the story out of them, and though they ended up siding with Mikasa in the long run, she was the one they dragged away from the scene.

"You shouldn't be getting into fights like that, girl," a man said stiffly. His woman companion had yet to speak as she held Mikasa tightly by the bicep. They were escorting her to the tavern. "It's dangerous."

"Yeah," Mikasa said in a dead voice. "For them."

"You're awfully cocky," said the male MP. He studied her face, but she merely stared ahead of her and said nothing. Mikasa trudged forward, her boots scuffing against the road. It was twilight now, and the sky had turned from a blazing red to an icy white. Milk had spilt into shadow, and clouds of dust were gathering across a heavy horizon.

"They deserved it," Mikasa decided aloud.

"Well next time," the man said, "use your words, not your fists."

You're a fucking moron, Mikasa thought. But she sad nothing. She merely stared ahead of her, and wondered what Levi would have done.

Who was she kidding? He'd do the same fucking thing she did. Except he wouldn't have gotten caught.

Greta's face had not even been remotely shocked. The tavern was moderately full, and Mikasa could see the sketchy imagery of two MPs pulling her in by the arms. She stared into Greta's alert blue eyes, and she lifted her head. She had nothing to be ashamed of. So she watched as the woman rounded the bar and marched up to the MPs, her eyes flashing.

"What's going on here?" Greta asked. She feigned ignorance, looking the part of a shocked mother. Mikasa might have laughed. The many faces of Greta Schatz. It was so hard to tell which one was the real one. "Mikasa, look at you! Is that blood?"

"Don't worry, ma'am," the male MP said sweetly. "It's not hers."

Greta gave him a long, hard look. "Yes," she said icily. "Because that makes me feel so much better."

The male MP looked a little flustered. Mikasa smiled against her neckerchief, glancing up at the man and containing her amusement. The female MP spoke for the first time.

"Ma'am, your daughter was fighting in the streets," the woman said briskly. "Please discipline her so these insurrections may not happen in the future."

"Fighting?" Greta looked down at Mikasa, and she blinked wildly. "You were fighting?"

"They deserved it," Mikasa said firmly.

"I'm sure," Greta hissed. She grabbed Mikasa by the wrist and yanked her away from the two MPs, dragging her back to the bar. "You're just like Levi was when he was your age."

Mikasa stared at her arm in the woman's grasp. She grimaced and stopped listening as Greta put on a show for the MPs and chewed Mikasa out. She focused on the condensation of a glass on the bar, and she scratched at the dried blood on her knuckles. It flaked away easily, and she was left to stare and ignore Greta a little more.

"Okay," the male MP said. "Well, ma'am, if you have it under control—"

"Oh," Greta said, her face flushed from shouting so much. "I do!"

"— Then we're gonna head out." The man nodded to Mikasa. "Keep out of fights, kiddo."

Mikasa flipped her middle finger at the man's back as he left. Greta grabbed her wrist again and shoved her toward the stairs. "You're just as stupid and reckless as he was," Greta hissed, smacking her back. "Think before you act, Mikasa!"

"I said they deserved it," Mikasa said quietly. "They broke the window of the bookshop, Greta. They deserved it."

"Mikasa…" Greta sighed, and she shook her head. "No. Just go."

Mikasa glowered at the woman's face, and she marched up the steps without looking back. She immediately went to the nearest window and wedged it open, lifting her body through it and hefting herself onto the rafters of the roof. Her skirt pooled around her as she dragged herself against the shingles of the rooftop, and perched herself against the night. She hugged her knees to her chest, and peered up at the sky. Stars were dotting the thick, inky night, and on the horizon a blot of pale blue was still visible, dying light in the midst of a blackened sky.

She sat there, letting the breeze toy with her loose hair. She leaned into the wind, her head falling back in order to get a better look at the stars. Is Levi looking at the stars right now? she wondered. Truthfully, she had no idea. She liked the thought of it. The image of him sitting alone on a roof, just like her. At the very least they could be watching the same sky.

"Levi," Mikasa said quietly. She tried to imagine him beside her, but it only made her feel sad. She rubbed at the blood caked to her knuckles and fingers, and she pressed her lips together thinly. "I'm going to join the Survey Corps too."

Levi said nothing in response. She closed her eyes and rested her chin against her knees. She thought about the brutality of the world, and how it seemed that Mikasa had given everything to the earth below the shadowy shingles. She had given the dirt her tears, and her blood, and the blood of others, and she watched as it soaked it all up hungrily. And it would keep taking. The world was devouring her.

There was nothing she could do to prevent this. It was merely an inevitable part of her meaningless existence.

Hey, Levi, she thought, pulling her embroidered kerchief up above her nose. What did this world take from you?

She stared into the fluttering darkness around her. The stars above her were blinking and glowing. She thought about her fate. The fate she had been flung into without anyone's inquiry about how she felt. Do you want to live, Mikasa? Do you want to keep living life in this world of cruelty and loveliness?

If so, stay where you are.

Never leave this roof.

The blood on her knuckles was flaking away. The soft strands of her hair were tickling her cheeks.

She slid down the face of the roof, and swung herself through her open window. The next morning she enrolled her name in the listing of trainees for the next year. She would be twelve, and thus she would be admitted without a hitch. The military needed as many men as they could get. She wondered if it would be hard. There was a strange prickling feeling inside of her that wouldn't leave her alone, and she continued to wonder and contemplate and worry.

What would Levi say when he found out? She was certain he wouldn't like it. She knew he wouldn't like it. And that was why she told no one, not even Greta. Mikasa put off telling the world about her decision, and she felt that she would continue to do so until she was flung into the military feet first. No one would miss her, would they? She was just a faceless child in a stew of orphans. No one would even notice her absence, except maybe Greta Schatz, Miss Lotte, and a few other children.

But they would forget her fast.

One day she passed by Stefan again. He was chatting with Kaethe, and immediately froze up at the sight of her. Kaethe beamed at Mikasa and waved her eagerly over, and Stefan grabbed her arm and hissed something in her ear. Mikasa hid a smirk behind her kerchief, and she wandered to Kaethe's side. The girl had decided to grow out her hair a little, and she now wore it over her shoulder in a limp little brown ponytail. Her freckles were fading, and her eyes were still the color of faded green leaves.

"Hey, Mikasa," she chirped.

"Hi, Kaethe." Mikasa turned to Stefan, her eyes boring into his. She dared him to challenge her again. "Stefan."

"Hi…" Stefan shifted awkwardly. "Um… Mikasa, look… about that brick…"

She stared at him. There was a soft breeze as the wind began to toy with her dark hair, and she tucked it behind her ear. "Yes," Mikasa said, her voice cold and clipped. "About the brick."

"Look, I'm really sorry," Stefan said, looking at her desperately. "It was stupid. And mean. I'm really, really sorry."

Mikasa studied his face. His eyes were glowing earnestly, and he looked at her with a strange beseeching desperation. She rested her back against a rail behind her, and she shrugged. "Fine," she said.

Stefan looked noticeably relieved, and he slumped a little. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, and stuck one between his lips. He offered the box out to Mikasa and Kaethe, and Kaethe took one eagerly. Mikasa, however, studied the box warily.

"Where did you get those?" Mikasa asked, perfectly aware that Stefan wasn't exactly well off.

Stefan blinked, and he smiled sheepishly. "Oh, uh," he said, scratching his cheek. "I picked it off a MP."

Mikasa mulled over his words for a moment. She plucked a cigarette from the carton, and held it between her fingers as Stefan struck a match against the cement foundation of the rail behind Mikasa, and lit his cigarette as well as Kaethe's. Mikasa slipped the rolled up paper between her teeth, and watched Stefan cautiously as he held the flame up to the tip of the cigarette. She could feel the heat radiating close to her nose, and she waited for the fire to take.

"Take a suck," Stefan advised. "It lights easier if you do."

Mikasa's eyes narrowed a little, but she did inhale against the cigarette. Smoke filled her mouth, rolling into her lungs in a stinging cloud of warmth. It scratched at the inside of her throat, tearing through her chest in a great mass of fiery residue. She wrinkled her nose, and resisted the urge to cough.

Stefan looked a little smug at the way she grimaced, so she pulled the cigarette from her lips and blew out the smoke into his face. He reacted with a backpedal, and waved the smoke away fast. Kaethe laughed all the while, her cigarette bobbing at the corner of her lips.

"So are you still hanging around that greasy bastard?" Mikasa asked after they had all calmed down. They sat against the cement foundation of the rail, taking drags on their cigarettes and watching the passersby idly.

"Um…" Stefan shifted nervously beside her. "Yeah."

"Tell him to go fuck himself." Mikasa blew smoke into the wind, and decided she didn't like smoking. It made her feel a little like she was suffocating… but there was something undeniably calming about it.

"You know," Stefan said, "he's not so bad—"

"I don't care." The paper felt strange against her lips as she spoke. "He's gross. You shouldn't get involved with gangs."

"Don't get all high and righteous on me, Mikasa," Stefan said quietly. "Like I said before. Your papa's been in gangs before."

"And like I told you," Mikasa said, extinguishing her cigarette against the cement beside her. "Levi actually knew what he was doing. You're just a damn oaf."

"You're kinda mean, Mikasa," Kaethe laughed. "I mean, Steffie's not stupid."

"No," Mikasa said, "he's incredibly stupid."

"I'm right here," Stefan said weakly.

"You dragged me into your bullshit," Mikasa said. "Because you are an idiot, and you didn't listen to me." She discarded the remains of her cigarette into the street. "You have no idea what the underground of this place is like." She turned to face him, and she gritted her teeth. "I think you're stupid because you're putting everyone you care about in danger."

His eyes were wide. "But, your papa—"

"Levi is not my father," Mikasa said sharply. "So I can't blame him for anything that happened to me while I was in his care. He did as much as he could for me, but he couldn't change his life to guarantee my safety. You're being stupid and reckless for endangering your family and friends. Accept it."

Stefan said nothing. His cigarette was burning low, and he stared at Mikasa with wide eyes. She wondered if her words would make a difference. She pushed herself off the rail, and she tugged at her kerchief. The sky was twinkling with reddening light, and she turned her head upward. The clouds were fat and gray, tumbling above her like monsters devouring the sun. She grimaced at the thought.

"I'm joining the military," she told them.

Their silence stung. She had told no one about this, and so she was apprehensive. She didn't know how people would react. Would they be angry? Impassive? Would anyone care at all?

"Wait," Kaethe squeaked. "What?"

"You aren't serious," Stefan said, "are you, Mikasa?"

She turned to face them. Stefan's eyes grew wider, and Kaethe breathed, "Oh, she's serious…"

"I thought you didn't like the military!" Stefan gasped.

"I don't like MPs," Mikasa said vacantly.

"Well, what branch are you gonna join?" Kaethe asked, jumping to her feet. "I always figured everyone going into the military just wants to be an MP, y'know?"

"You're wrong." Mikasa's arms felt cold. A chill was breathing through the street, wind running through her hair like spindly fingers, twisting through black strands. "I'm joining the Survey Corps."

That seemed to stun them. They exchanged a glance, and then Stefan jumped up as well. "Why would you wanna join them?" Stefan asked, his eyes going even wider. "Aren't they all like, crazy and stuff?"

"Yeah," Kaethe agreed. "I heard anyone who joins the Survey Corps is doomed. They all die real fast. My Mama says it's a wonder they even have troops."

Mikasa stared at them. And honestly, she agreed with them. The Survey Corps would be the end of her. She was aware that this was a likelihood. No. It was inevitable. But even so… it was the fate she had chosen. And she was going to stick to that choice.

"Maybe," Mikasa said quietly. "Maybe I'm dooming myself." She turned away from them, and she began to walked slowly down the road.

"What?" Kaethe gasped, sounding horrified. "Then why the hell are you joining? Mikasa!"

Because, Mikasa thought sullenly, I can't thank him.

Chapter Text

The days got colder, and Mikasa waited for the news to reach Greta. Levi wrote sparingly, and Mikasa was glad to know he was still training. At least he's not in danger, Mikasa thought. At least he's still safe. Mikasa walked from the tavern to the bookshop every day, kicking up snow and curling beneath the jacket that had once been Levi's. She was too small for her old jacket, and Levi had left clothing behind. Sometimes Mikasa still slept in his shirts and trousers, if only because the familiar scent helped stave off nightmares.

Mikasa, Levi wrote. Tell Schatz that she's a bitch for telling you my birthday. It was honestly something I didn't want you to know, but whatever. Thanks for the cup. I'll try and keep it safe, but I can't promise anything. If anyone breaks it, I'll send you the fingers. Does that sound fair?

Levi.

Mikasa had sent Levi a teacup for his birthday. She had painted on it the symbol of her family that her mother had taught her when she had been younger. She had no other family to share it with. And Levi was the closest thing to family she had. So Mikasa felt it was the only thing she could do for him.

That was the last letter until a little before Mikasa's twelfth birthday. The letter only explained that he would not be writing for a few months because his training was coming to an end, and he things were going to get a little hectic. Mikasa understood. She was only concerned about his well-being. This was it. This was what she had feared for so long. It was now a reality.

"Happy Birthday, Mikasa!" Greta chirped, laying a wrapped gift beside a gooey looking little cake. Mikasa stared at both the cake and the present confusedly. Greta hadn't given her anything the previous year. Why was she being so nice now?

"Oh," Mikasa said quietly. The bar was a little noisy, and she didn't like being around so many drunk people. "Thank you."

She unwrapped the gift, and found that it was a box. On the paper it had been wrapped in was a list. Mikasa glanced at it, and she slapped the paper down.

"How long have you known?"

Greta feigned an innocent expression. "Don't be so angry," Greta said, her splotchy face looking amused. "I'm only looking out for you."

Mikasa stared at her. She bent of the paper, and read aloud, "'Ten Reasons Why Mikasa Ackerman Should Not Join The Survey Corps.'"

"I came up with fifteen," Greta admitted, leaning over the bar and tapping her cheek idly. "But I didn't have the room to write them all."

"This is stupid."

"You're stupid," Greta said. "You don't have to do everything Levi does, you know!"

"I'm joining because I want to," Mikasa said, pulling at her neckerchief.

"You're joining because Levi is an asshole," Greta said, "and he didn't think before he enlisted."

"He's not an asshole."

"He's a huge asshole!" Greta pinched her nose in frustration. "Fuck it, I wish he had just given you to me when he found you! He's never been responsible, and look what his carelessness has done to you! You think you've gotta be wherever he is, because you're indebted to him, right?"

Mikasa said nothing. She stared up at Greta in silence, and she felt a little chill with the revelation that Greta cared about her. And that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

"Hun," Greta said gently, "Levi isn't someone you should admire. He's always been reckless, even when he was a little boy. You shouldn't want to be like him."

"I don't want to be like him," Mikasa said firmly. No, that had never been her intention. At least, not consciously.

"Are you sure?" Greta asked, her sharp blue eyes widening. "Because you're exactly like him to the point where I have to wonder if you aren't related."

Mikasa flushed, pressing her neckerchief to her nose. She had never thought about it before… but were they really so alike? "No," Mikasa said. "We're not related."

"You even kinda look alike," Greta said softly, staring at Mikasa's face. Mikasa sat frozen as the woman reached and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You have the same look in your eyes. Like you simultaneously want to murder everyone and crawl into bed and never leave."

"I don't look like that."

"Yeah, hun," Greta laughed. "You do!"

Mikasa stared up at the woman, and she looked back down at the paper. "'Number seven,'" Mikasa read, "'the military doesn't need another Levi.'"

"That is a true fact," Greta said, waving at a man who sat farther down the bar. She began to pour a drink, never looking away from Mikasa.

"This is stupid," Mikasa repeated, pushing the paper away. "I'm not Levi, and I am joining the Survey Corps."

"Look," Greta said, setting a glass in front of the man down the bar. "Fine, join the military. Do something constructive with your life. But, Mikasa, please. Don't join the Survey Corps."

Mikasa felt Greta's words hit her hard. She watched the woman for a long time, ice slithering down her spine as she recalled Levi's hands on hers, and her own helpless voice. Levi, you don't have to join the Survey Corps. You can join the Military Police— or the Garrison— It was very hard now, knowing how he had felt. Had he faltered? Had he been scared to leave too? Had he even cared at all?

The only thing Mikasa could do was the one thing Levi hadn't.

"I'm sorry," Mikasa said gently. "This is something I have to do, Greta."

Greta watched her, and a lazy smile came to her lips. "You're a weird kid, Mikasa," Greta said in an equally gentle voice. "Just… think about it, okay?"

There was nothing to think about. She hadn't the luxury of a decision. She had been destined to this hell, and she knew that nothing anyone could say would sway her. It wasn't just a debt that had her shackled and paraded to the inevitable doom she would face with the Survey Corps. It was an unyielding sense of loyalty that had her clinging to Levi's side. She needed to keep holding his hand, or else she knew she would be lost.

"Okay, Greta," Mikasa lied. "I'll think about it."

After a few minutes of staring at each other, Mikasa picked up the box that Greta had given her. Inside was a red braid of fabric. When Mikasa peered closer she could see embroidered flowers. She stared at the fabric for a very long time, before she looked up at Greta sharply. "This is my dress," Mikasa said.

"Yeah." Greta shrugged. "I saved some of the fabric. I mean, it would have been a waste to just chuck it, y'know? So I got a friend to weave that for you. Here." Greta leaned over the bar and took Mikasa's wrist, pulling the red braid around it and tying it tight. It felt warm and heavy against her skin. "It's a bracelet."

"Thank you…"

"Yeah, no problem." Greta smiled warmly, and Mikasa had to look away. She felt guilty for all of the mean things she had ever said or thought about Greta Schatz. She had a far greater capacity for kindness than Mikasa had ever imagined. "So… the big one-two, huh? You wanna hear a funny story about Levi when he was twelve?"

Mikasa perked up at that. "Yes," she said immediately. Greta grinned toothily in response.

"Okay, hun," Greta said, "so you know how Levi is pretty much the most awkward thing to grace the planet?"

"No…?"

Greta stared at her. And then she sighed. "Well, he is," she said. "But he wasn't always like that. When he was little he was actually pretty talkative. He started closing up when he was around thirteen. But by then he didn't really want anything to do with me." Greta smiled faintly, and Mikasa saw her sharp eyes go a little distant. She wondered if Greta was sad about how her relationship with Levi turned out.

"Does Levi write you?" Mikasa asked suddenly.

Greta cocked a brow. "What?" she asked, blinking fast. "Uh, no. Never. But anyway, so when Levi turned twelve he went way out of his way to avoid me. He got up early and snuck out of the house, and when I went to check on him in the morning he was gone. So obviously I freaked out." Greta studied Mikasa's face for a moment, and she jerked a finger at her. "Don't you get any ideas. You don't want to see me panic, sweetheart, it's not pretty."

"Okay," Mikasa said weakly.

"Okay," Greta said, waving offhandedly to a customer leaving. "So I went to look for him, and of course I didn't find him, because he's impossible. I honestly still don't know where he went. But I got an MP to start looking for him, and I told the MP that it was Levi's birthday and what he looked like, and then to pretend to arrest him if he found him." Greta burst out laughing, slapping her palm against the bar hysterically. Mikasa stared at her, and she had to wonder if Greta had been drinking.

"No wonder Levi thinks you're a bitch," Mikasa said vacantly.

"It's funny," Greta said, "because the only time he ever got arrested had been a joke." She smiled in disbelief. "All the awful things that stupid boy has done, and I got him arrested once for running away on his birthday. It's pretty messed up."

"Maybe…" Mikasa said, pressing her lips together. "Was he angry at you for that?"

"Oh yeah," Greta chirped. "He didn't talk to me for a month."

"Greta," Mikasa said, "that's not funny at all."

"Maybe you just don't have a sense of humor."

"No…" Mikasa's brow furrowed. "No, that's not it."

Greta's eyes narrowed. "Fine." She waved her hand at Mikasa. "Don't laugh. Be a little bitch."

Mikasa sighed, and she shook her head. The many faces of Greta Schatz, Mikasa thought as she finally began to eat some of her cake. It tasted very saccharine, and it was far too chewy, but she ate it all anyway without complaint.

As the date neared for Mikasa to leave, there was a growing restlessness within her. She had yet to receive another letter from Levi, and though she had understood initially the reasoning behind the lack of communication, she was now concerned. Had he joined the Survey Corps yet? Had he graduated? He never told her when these things were happening, so she was in the dark. And she found herself drawn back to the book of fairy tales.

She'd been using her letters as bookmarks, and they sat beside the book near the edge of her bed. She'd shifted her position ever so slightly, her arms becoming stiff from being propped up to support her head. Mikasa blinked as she knocked the folded letters off her bed, and into the crevice between the bed and the wall. She swore softly, and pushed her arm into the crevice, her fingers sliding against the dusty wooden floor. She jumped as they caught against the wood, and slipped into a hole. The wood gave a jolt, and Mikasa realized the plank had been intentionally loosened.

She slid off her bed, and after some quick thought she decided investigate. She moved the bed with great ease, and when the floor beneath it was revealed to her, she saw that the plank she had shifted had been altered. She it was shorter than the rest of them, leaving a gap between the plank of wood and the wall. Mikasa snatched her letters, and tossed them back onto the bed before crouching down. Did Levi hide something in here? Mikasa wondered. She pulled at the wooden plank, wedging it out of its place.

The floor had been hollowed out. Mikasa stared into the space, her eyes going a little wide as she reached out. She withdrew a mountain of papers, crumpled and stained and half torn apart. She tossed them onto the floor, and stared at them for a long time. The papers looked to be torn from a journal, or written on the back of propaganda. She picked up the nearest bit of parchment, and continued to stare at the blocky, thick script.

Aa Bb Cc Dd

Above each squiggly, thickly written letter, was a perfectly neat and tidy version of it. Those letters had been written expertly, thin cursive against yellowed paper. The alphabet spanned pages and pages, and Mikasa flipped through them feverishly. On more than a few, she noticed, there were flecks of red stains.

Written across a few pages were excerpts from the book of fairy tales. Specifically, Mikasa noticed, "The Shadow". It was written in Levi's sloppy hand, and she saw through the pages that his writing got better and better. The pages thinned out, and she eventually came to a particularly battered note. It looked like it had been torn in half, and there was a large blot of red staining the lower half of the page.

—really stupid.

Those words she recognized clearly as Levi's hand.

You're.

And that word was written in the same neat script as the first letters of the alphabet had been.

Same thing, Levi had written.

No, the mystery person had replied, it is actually not.

Fuck this, Levi had written. This was followed by a strange blot of dried blood.

Mikasa set that page away for a moment. She stared ahead of her for a moment, her mind wrapping around what she was reading. She couldn't piece it together. Obviously Levi had saved the papers he had used to teach himself to read… but had he not been alone? He'd said he'd taught himself, but… Mikasa wondered if that was a lie. There was certainly someone else's writing on these pages.

And why was there so much blood?

The last three pages of Levi's secret journals had only two words. Repeated. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

Kill Erwin.

Mikasa felt a chill run through her. She flipped to the back of the first of the three.

Kill Erwin. Over and over and over and over and over again.

She sat on the dusty ground, her skirt pooling around her knees in a puddle of black fabric. Mikasa turned her head to the side. There were gouges in the wall beside her bed. She had thought they had been erratic. She had assumed anger had fueled Levi to attack the walls of his room. She rested her fingers against the gashes, tracing the space between marks.

Kill Erwin.

Mikasa shoved the pages back into the hole in the floor, and closed it up fast. She moved her bed back so it covered a good deal of the gouges, and she stood for a very long time. She couldn't fathom it.

Who's Erwin?

With her remaining weeks in Yalkell, she set out to unravel the mystery.

"Greta," Mikasa said, hopping up on a stool one morning. "Who's Erwin?"

Greta had frozen up mid-pour. Her eyes had snapped up suddenly, and the alertness fading into a strange distance. "Where did you hear that name?" Greta asked.

"Levi wrote about him," Mikasa said. It wasn't a lie.

"What did he say?"

Mikasa felt a little taken aback. She had not expected this reaction. "He just mentioned him," Mikasa said faintly.

Greta's eyes narrowed. "You know what," Greta said, shaking her head. "I don't want to know."

"Okay…" Mikasa folded her hands in her lap. "But who is he?"

Greta pressed her lips together, and she shrugged. "Just a kid," she said. She blinked, and her brow furrowed. "Well he's not a kid now, but… you get what I mean. He was at same orphanage as me and Levi. Except he came after I left, so I don't actually know much about him past that."

"Oh." Mikasa tried to digest this information, but she just couldn't grasp it. Why did you want to kill him, Levi? "Thanks. Um… Greta?"

"Yeah?"

"Is your orphanage still around?" Mikasa asked. "I'd like to see it. Before I leave."

Greta's eyes softened considerably. "You don't want to see that place, Mikasa," Greta said.

"I do," Mikasa insisted.

"No," Greta said firmly. "You don't."

After that, Mikasa found herself snooping. She asked around about an orphanage that closed years ago, and she was directed to various places. Eventually she got the information she wanted out of an older MP, who she'd been directed to from the MP who had once dragged her back to the tavern after fighting with Stefan and his gang.

"Are you talking about the Harmon Orphanage?" the MP asked her. His eyes were dim, and his face was thickly lined.

"Oh…" Mikasa bit her lip. "Maybe…? Greta Schatz was from this orphanage, if you know her."

The man grimaced, and Mikasa felt her nerves tingle. This was it. She could tell this was it.

"Greta, yeah," the man said. "She took in the kid, didn't she?" He scratched his head. "It was a really long time ago. Why do you want to know, girl?"

"My papa is from that orphanage," Mikasa said, staring up at the man. "He's the boy Greta took in. But he never told me why the orphanage closed."

The man looked away. "Well," said the man darkly, "he wouldn't, would he? Bad memories are hard to bring up. I don't like thinking about it either."

"What happened?" Mikasa asked, pushing at the subject desperately. "Did it have anything to do with a boy named Erwin?"

The man could only blink. And then he sighed, and he rubbed his head in irritation. "If I tell you," he said snappily, "will you leave me alone about it?"

"Yes," Mikasa said immediately.

"Then yes." The MP waved her off, and he turned away. "Erwin Smith was the only other survivor."

Mikasa nearly snatched him by the back of his jacket and dragged him back. "Survivor…?" Mikasa said, her belly turning to water in the cold revelation. Hadn't there been blood on those papers…?

The day before she was set to leave, she finally set out to Harmon's Orphanage. She'd been intentionally avoiding the place on account of… well, she wasn't certain if she actually wanted to know. But she found herself wandering into the abandoned building on a stark spring afternoon, sneaking in through a busted window after finding the front door locked. The floor beneath her was covered with layers of debris, and the air was stale and musty. The paint on the walls was peeling, and there was a table turned on its side. Broken chairs littered the room, lying uselessly without limbs to carry them.

This is where Levi grew up, Mikasa thought, wandering around the room. Debris crunched underfoot, and Mikasa brought her neckerchief up to her nose. There was a disquieting feeling to being here. It was like something was latching onto her back, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed by a thousand pairs of eyes. This feeling followed her into a long hall of a bedroom, and overturned bed frames had her standing stolidly in the doorway. There were a lot of beds. A lot of children.

Only two survivors, Mikasa recalled, walking through the room of ghost beds. Levi and Erwin Smith.

Mikasa had come to see if she could find out anything more about Levi's tumultuous childhood. But all she saw was a gathering of sad little ghosts lying to the bare skeletons of rusted beds. She didn't want to be here anymore. It made her sick to her stomach, and she had no idea what had happened. Had it been Erwin Smith who had caused the catastrophe, whatever it had been? Was that why Levi was so hell bent on killing him?

In truth, Mikasa didn't know if she cared. At this point, her mind was drifting to the inevitable change to come in the next days of her life. Training to kill titans. It was crazy, and she hated the idea of it. But she had to go. She had to be strong, and she had to do what her gut told her.

Mikasa found herself crouching in a corner that overlooked the room, and she stared ahead of her as she imagined a smaller Levi crouching beside her. She imagined that he was bold as a child. She imagined a boy who was quick to smile, and quick to fight. And she imagined a boy who could laugh freely, without any burden holding him to the ground.

She wished she could meet that boy.

She wished she could be that boy.

But instead, she was Mikasa Ackerman. And she now it was her turn to be the protector.

Chapter Text

Levi was not surprised to find that training came easy to him. He was not surprised at how quickly his instructors took notice to him, nor was he surprised how fast rumors about him came fluttering out of the mouths of his peers. The trainees he was surrounded by were around his own age, and yet they acted more juvenile than teenagers. They gossiped and griped, but never asked him if any of it was true.

Except for one.

Levi had been eating his lunch alone, as usual, rereading Sir Gwaine and the Green Knight. Though the sentimental value of his book of tales had been high, he felt better leaving it with Mikasa. And besides. He needed no more reminders of his childhood here. Yes, it'd be a goddamn grace to rid himself of that burden of a book. At least Sir Gwaine's tale was a fresh story, untainted by the ghosts of Levi's past.

He'd sensed another presence before it even had the chance to sit down, and he the inexplicable urge to move his seat. He was only a few weeks into his training, and he had already taken to lurking about quietly, hoping to remain unnoticed as best he could. It would make things easier later on. And at first, it had worked. His aloof nature had thrown people off, and those who dared to approach him got a good taste of his uncouth nature.

The decision to ignore whoever had sat down across from him did not work out. He found himself meeting the glowing brown eyes of a long-faced woman. And she was looking rather excited, chin resting in her palms as she propped her arms against the table, her body hunched over as she continued to stare. It was by far the creepiest face he had seen in a very long time.

"What?" Levi snapped, his palm resting flat on the inner spine of his book to save his page.

"Is it true," the woman gasped, eyes sparkling, "that you've killed a titan before?"

Levi found himself baffled. "Who the fuck told you that bullshit?" Levi asked.

The woman shifted her one hand, creepily energetic expression never faltering, and she jerked her thumb behind her. "Richter," she said. "He wanted to know, but he didn't want to ask. So you haven't? Have you ever seen a titan?"

"No," Levi said, glaring behind her shoulder at the man she gestured to. He continued to glare until the man slowly turned his head, and met Levi's cold gaze. Immediately his face snapped ahead again, and Levi allowed himself to feel a glimmer of satisfaction. After that, he looked back down at his book and continued to read.

"Oh, what are you reading?"

Levi didn't want to answer the woman. So he didn't. He just kept on reading, and found himself yearning for Mikasa's steady but silent presence. As the woman waved her hand before his face, he closed his eyes and imagined the little girl beside him, her body warm as it began to slump from exhaustion. Her voice lulled inside his mind, reading softly and sweetly, trailing on words and spitting out strings of crisp sentences. He hadn't prompted her to read to him often, but on the rare occasion he had, it had been enjoyable. He remembered how her head had drooped, and rested against his shoulder as they'd traded off, and he'd continued the reading.

He began to mouth the words subconsciously.

"What was that?"

Levi was dragged out of his revere by the woman's voice. It was a very low voice full of life and wonder and excitement. She either didn't get how much he didn't care to talk to her, or she didn't care. Her lackluster brown hair was gathered at both shoulders in two clumps of chaotic ponytails.

"Nothing," Levi said dully. "If there's something else you wanted, say it already."

"Oh!" The woman rested her hands on the table, her eyes widening. "Actually, I was wondering something else."

Levi watched her face for a minute until his impatience got the better of him. Her grin was obnoxious, and he wanted to punch it away, but he restrained himself. "And what the hell is that?" he asked.

"Are you going to join the Military Police?" the woman asked in her strange, far too excited tone. Levi stared at her, blinking slowly. No, it had not been the first time he had been asked this. Since the start of training it became abundantly clear that Levi was going to be among the top of his class, but that meant nothing. "Because it'd be such a waste! You're like a titan killing machine!"

Levi kept quiet. He wanted to know just how tough this woman's nerves were, and so he stared into her eyes as seconds ticked by. Neither of them budged as they watched one another, one expressionless, the other grinning broadly. And in all honesty, he found that he was the one growing disquieted. He didn't know how to handle this woman. But whatever. He'd figure it out.

"No," Levi said finally. He watched her brows rise above her messy hairline. "I'm joining the Survey Corps."

Her shriek of excitement was so shrill that he had to bow his head to hide a wince. "So am I!" the woman cried, grinning from ear to ear. "This is great! I haven't met anyone who is joining the Survey Corps yet." She quieted down, her smile dulling into something wane and small. "I guess everyone is just too scared, or something."

"And you aren't?" Levi found himself asking.

She shrugged, her eyes resting on his book. "Well," she said, "of course I am, but that's not going to stop me. Anyways, can I see your book? Pretty please?"

She was reaching for it, her fingers curling against the air desperately. Levi found himself bringing the book closer to him defensively. "No," he said immediately.

"Aw," the woman said, giving a short pout. "Okay, then. Oh, hey, I'm Zoë Hange, by the way."

"Okay." Levi had already gone back to reading, and in all honesty he wouldn't remember her first name the next time they met.

That was a fact.

"Hey!"

A body came collapsing beside his while he wrote a letter against his knee on a bench. He looked up, staring ahead of him for a long moment. Cold horror filled him. Does this bitch not get the hint? It seemed to him that the woman was oblivious to sense. So instead of reply, he merely looked back down at his letter, and continued to write as if she had never sat down.

"Oh, is this a letter?"

Ignoring her proved to end badly. He hadn't even realized that she'd been talking about the letter from Mikasa he had wedged into the book beside him. He glanced at the woman, and his eyes widened momentarily before he snatched the letter back, and smacked the woman across the back of her head with it. He wished desperately that it had been something heavier.

"Sorry," said the woman… Hange? He couldn't remember. She smiled weakly, and scratched her head. "I'm just naturally curious, I can't help it. So, Mikasa Ackerman. Your daughter?"

Levi said nothing. He looked down at his letter, and he shoved Mikasa's letter back between the pages of his book. He began to write again, his shoulders squaring, and his knuckles going white as they clenched around his pen. His replies to Mikasa were very short, but he wrote as best he could. He just hoped that she took them to heart.

"Don't touch anything that's mine again," Levi said in a low voice. "Hear me?"

Hange blinked at him, and then she gave a lofty smile. "Yeah, sure," she laughed, waving her hands. "My bad. I'll keep my sticky fingers to myself."

Levi glared ahead of him. Why wouldn't she just shut up already? He wanted to snap at her, to punch her from here to kingdom come, but he didn't. Because Hange hadn't done anything wrong, and she seemed genuinely sorry. So Levi gritted his teeth, and he endured Hange's senseless chattering.

Winter came abruptly. Training grounds were coated with a thin layer of snow, and Levi found himself scooping up a handful and staring at it for a long while. It was wet and frigid, biting into his skin with tiny crystal teeth. It melted sadly, drooping into red fingers, and he thought about Mikasa Ackerman, and his own hazy childhood. Bare feet and cold streets, breath misting against the night air as a waif fought against winter and sickness and grief.

What a terrible child he had been.

He dropped the snow as a blur of white whizzed past his head, grazing his hair. He'd jerked to the side at the last moment, and watched as a snowball collapsed against the wall of the mess hall. He whirled around, limp and powdery snow spitting into the air as his eyes fell upon Hange's bright face. Her pigtails bounced about her shoulders, and she waved excitedly.

"Whoo hoo!" Hange cried, waggling her fingers. "C'mon, Ackerman. I bet I can hit you!"

"I doubt it," Levi retorted. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of being hit with the murky gray slush. He dodged her next hurl, and shook his head when she missed him again. "How do expect to kill a titan if you can't even hit a human?"

Hange gave a sad little frown. "Aww," she whined, tossing a little ball of slushy snow from hand to hand. "Don't you have a heart beneath all that pouting, Levi?"

"I don't pout."

Hange gave a sharp laugh, and she flung her snowball. It missed him again, but only barely. "You pout when you read your letters," Hange said brightly.

"You're shitting me."

"Nope!" Hange smiled at him warmly. "By the way, I think you have a new one waiting in the lounge."

Levi stared at her for a few moments, before he turned around and headed down the snow blanketed path. Hange called after him, but he ignored her in favor of retrieving his letter. In truth, Hange wasn't as annoying as he'd initially perceived. She was, in fact, very intelligent and witty when she calmed the fuck down long enough to coherently converse.

He found an envelope waiting for him with the name Levi Ackerman stamped over Mikasa's short, neat script of even letters that slanted every so slightly. He had given Mikasa's surname as his own when he had enlisted, but he was very certain that Mikasa had no knowledge of this. After all, she wrote only his first name when addressing him in posts, and in return he only wrote his first name when sending them out. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to know just yet that he had adopted her name.

Levi,

I haven't gotten into any trouble. I said I'd be good, didn't I? It's been snowing here, which isn't a huge bother. I like this time of year. The cold is familiar. Are you making any new friends with the other recruits?

Mikasa

As usual after a letter from Mikasa, Levi found himself taking days and days to mull over what to reply. He sat with the letter always at his side, with words flooding his brain, and drafts crumpling up inside his anxious fingers. Levi was not an articulate creature. He didn't know how to take his emotions and display them, let alone write them all down for a little girl to understand how much her affection truly meant. No. Levi could not comprehend how to create something from the fragility of his own emotional state. He saw the beauty in the words, but he could not discern them. He was lost in a flurry of emotions he could not convey, and words he could not fathom.

He realized that Mikasa's birthday was nearing fast, and every letter he wrote seemed to lack the touch of emotion he so desperately tried to imprint onto the page. In the end he tore through papers like a madman, and he gnawed at the end of his pen viciously. His heart, which had only thawed enough for the presence of a little girl to worm its way into it, was bleeding across the page. He wasn't sure if she would be able to see that, though.

He was struck with a thought when Hange commented on the scar behind his knee. It had been Mikasa's steady hand that had saved him that night, and he recalled the painfully embarrassing embroidery lessons she had tried to give him. Of course, he knew he could never make anything Mikasa would want to show anyone regularly, but perhaps…

An unused handkerchief did the trick. It took him a few tries to get started, but eventually he got the hang of the stitching. It was crude and uneven, but he tried his best. He was given many strange looks when he tried to work on the embroidery in public, but he decided not to let it get to him. If they thought it strange, they could tell him so. He would gladly punch some teeth in.

"Okay," Hange said one night, finally the first to crack and ask. "What is that?"

"This?" Levi was sitting on the roof, as he tended to do on clear nights. He'd been careful to choose the roof with the least icy patches, and it seemed Hange had caught onto his habit. She often followed him up there, bundled tightly and swinging her feet as she listed off the constellations by name. The knowledge was rather new, and undeniably interesting. "A horse's ass. Can't you see it?"

"Oh, yeah," Hange chirped, leaning over Levi's shoulder to peer at the embroidery circle. She squinted a little. "Yeah, I definitely see it!"

"Where are your glasses, you idiot?"

"Uh…" Hange laughed sheepishly, and she leaned back against the shingles behind her. "Great question! I think they fell between bunks."

"You should wear them all the time," Levi informed her. "You act like a bumbling fool whenever you don't."

"You're avoiding my question," Hange whined. "You're so mean."

"It was a stupid question," Levi said. "What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

"Okay, fine," Hange said. "Why are you doing it? What's the design supposed to be? You know I've got this book on old symbols that you could—"

"Pass."

As Hange rocked to and fro beside him, watching as his fingers nimbly threaded through the light fabric. The night was cold, and there was frost gathering against their jackets. Levi had yet to be caught on the rooftops, so he wasn't sure what kind of punishment would be dealt out.

"It's Mikasa," Hange said suddenly. Her voice was softer than its usual excited tone, drifting against the chilly winter winds. Levi stared at the fabric in his hands, never faltering. "Isn't it?"

"I don't see how that's any of your damn business," Levi said.

Hange smiled ahead of her. Her long legs swung idly off the edge of the roof, and she carefully nudged her shoulder against his with little enough force as to not budge his hands. "You seem like a good dad." She beamed at him. It made his stomach twist uncertainly.

"No." Levi yanked at the needle, and the string pulled taut. "I'm almost as shitty a father as I am a person." And a soldier. But he couldn't say the last part aloud. No one knew about the atrocities inside Levi's head. No one knew what darkness had swallowed up his heart. And no one would know. Soldiers died. Soldiers went missing.

"I'm sure that's not true!" Hange folded her hands in her lap. "You're always writing to her, and you make her presents, and you treat her book like it's holy! It's so nice to see that you care about something so much."

"I told you," Levi said sharply. "You're wrong."

Hange stared at him. She cocked her head to the side, her smile still resting on her lips, wane as ever. "But—"

"Shut up," Levi whispered, tugging the filament of his needle taut again. "Shut up, Hange, you know nothing about me. And you know even less about Mikasa. So believe me when I say that I have been the worst possible influence on that stupid little girl."

"I know that you care about her," Hange offered.

Levi wound the thread around his knuckles, and he brought the taut string to his mouth. He bit down, his teeth tearing through the filament with a startling amount of ease. It snapped cleanly, and Levi was left with a makeshift embroidery, and a bare needle. Wind rustled through his hair, breathing ice against his exposed skin and taunting him.

"If I cared about that damn girl even a little," Levi said finally, his voice colder than the frigid air that bit through their skin and lashed out at their bones, "then I wouldn't have left her."

"You know," Hange said softly, "it's easier to love someone and leave them then it is to love them and lose them."

He looked up at her. Her words stung like a slap. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he asked in a low, dull tone.

"It means," Hange said with a stretch of her arms, "I need a drink! You wanna raid the kitchen, Ackerman?"

"You don't want to see me drunk," Levi said passively.

"Not true," Hange said, grinning down at him. "But I'm patient. Anyways, can I tell you about this theory I found while I was researching for the exam next week?"

"If we don't freeze to death in the process, then fine."

He bitterly regretted that decision when he awoke with a runny nose. Zoë Hange. Unbearably chatty, and inexplicably insightful.

In other words, Levi found that he loathed her in a way that made it apparent that he could never loathe her at all.

The days bled into each other, and Levi grew anxious. His dreams were brimming with echoes of past whispers in the dark, of knives flashing and children screaming, of a missing child and a blood soaked vow. He held himself without a care, but his insides were rotting away with every listless day of training and chatting and writing to a girl who he may never see again. Sometimes his dreams became an amalgamation of all his terrors rolled into one wretched string of fumbling in the dark, of bare feet clapping against snowy roads, of strangled coughs that death pulled from pasty lips with spindly fingers withdrawing dribbles of blood, of stupid children with stupid smiles and stupid laughs, of a river of blood and familiar faces that tore through the fabric of his world and flung him into a darkness that he couldn't rip himself out of.

And then, he would look into that darkness, and see a broken girl curled in a corner, clutching a knife with both hands and staring ahead of her as blood streaked her pale cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Levi would whisper as he crouched beside her. She didn't hear him. She was enrapt in the horrors around her, and there was a taste of blood that had carved itself into her soul. "The last thing I wanted is for you to become me."

When Levi wasn't mulling over nightmares or missing Mikasa, he was formulating a plan. The plan was short and simple. It relied only on Levi's resilience, and Erwin Smith's capacity to trust.

Levi knew how easy it would be to get the man alone.

"What the fuck?" Levi wondered aloud as he pulled a teacup from a parcel addressed to him. Hange, who had been twisted in her seat to gab to someone else about her latest hypothesis. She immediately paused to glance at him, and her attention changed directions.

"Is that from Mikasa?" Hange asked, leaning over the table to peer at the cup. Levi pulled it closer to him instinctively, glowering at the woman as he frowned. "Aw, she even painted it!"

"What?" Levi turned the cup over, and on the face of the glossy porcelain was a strange little symbol painted expertly in black. He recognized the symbol vaguely, and then he remembered that Mikasa had a scar on her wrist that looked similar to the design. He stared at it for a long time, and he found himself smiling minutely at the little cup. If Hange saw, she didn't comment on it, and for that he was immensely thankful. He set down the teacup, and picked up the letter that had been sent with it.

Levi,

Greta told me that your birthday was a week ago. I wasn't sure what you might want, so I guessed. I hope you like it. Don't worry about the painting, it's not important. I just thought it might look nice. Please take care of yourself.

Mikasa

He reread the letter nine times before he gently folded it closed. His birthday had been nearly a month ago, but letters tended to take time getting from one place to another. And with the parcel it had probably taken much longer. He closed his eyes, and not for the first time he wished he was different. He wished he could have brushed off the sighting of Erwin Smith, and lived on raising Mikasa as if nothing had happened.

But his nature beckoned him to exact the vengeance that was deserved.

If things were different, Levi thought later that night as he reread the letter again. I could be happy with the makeshift family you gave me. But we were fucked from the moment I saved you, Mikasa.

It was becoming painfully clear that Levi's attachment to Mikasa could become a problem. He needed to be ruthless, and yet he knew he was soft. She was a child with too much life left ahead of her, and he was a man whose days were numbered. He needed to put some further distance between them. At least for a little while. At least until he fulfilled his goal.

So he told Mikasa he wouldn't write for a while. He did it because he knew the risks. He knew he might fail to kill Erwin, and if that happened he understood the repercussions. It would be best if Mikasa had little interaction with him, if only for her sake. He didn't know how she would feel if he was caught and executed. He didn't know her feelings much at all.

Levi graduated with his rank at first. Hange ranked second, which didn't stun him so much as it might have. He'd seen Hange in action, and she was far from the graceless fool he'd initially taken her for. She was very in tune with her surroundings, and she had a certainty about her movements. She grinned at him as they stood before the pulpit in wait for the commander of the Survey Corps to speak to them.

"This is exciting, isn't it?" Hange asked, beaming ahead of her. "We finally get to choose."

"There was never a choice," Levi said flatly.

Hange smiled down at him, and shook her head. "Nah," she said, standing straighter as a tall man walked out onto the platform. "There was definitely a choice."

Levi wasn't listening to her anymore. He was focused on the man ahead, whose face was more severe than it had ever been in its youth. His face was one of a man who had seen the horrors of the world. But then, so was Levi's. Looking back, there was nothing much left of the children they had been. Levi could easily say that he had died at eleven years old. But for Erwin? Levi couldn't be sure. He couldn't tell if there was any remnant of the introverted teenager that had once tried to balance several books on top of Levi's small head to test his strength and balance.

"Princess," the boy had teased. Levi had easily wandered around the room, navigating around beds with his head held level. Levi remembered the confusion, and then the embarrassment.

"Fucker," he'd spat, hurling the books back at the boy's face.

Levi dragged himself from his memories in time to hear Erwin call for anyone without the intention to join the Survey Corps to leave. And then they left. They trailed away in waves, and for a strange stinging moment it felt like there would be no one left. But Hange was by Levi's side, standing tall and lax, and Levi could feel the presence of others as the crowd thinned out. There were still people, yes. But not enough of them to hide Levi.

He met Erwin's eyes without hesitation. There was clarity in the stare, careful impassiveness glowing inside his eyes. There was no question. Erwin recognized him. It was clear from the way his shoulders squared, the way his brow furrowed ever so slightly. There was an ever so slight softening of hard blue eyes. Recognition stung.

Here we are, Levi thought, saluting with the rest of the recruits. This is the end, Erwin.

Of course, Levi understood that there was no possible way to get Erwin alone. Not yet. He had to be patient if he wanted this to work. He had to wait until they were all in immeasurable danger, and no one would think twice if the man did not return. Yes. Levi would kill Erwin on his first expedition outside the walls. And he would do it without hesitation.

"Wow," Hange gasped. "This is exciting! Aren't you excited?"

"Ecstatic." Levi clasped his short green cloak, and he looked up at the sky. Gray clouds tumbled past. Rain could work in his favor— so much as it waited until they were outside the walls. He studied the Commander's back as he spoke to one of his senior officers.

"What if we catch a titan?" Hange asked, clasping her hands in front of her and smiling dreamily. "I mean, I don't think that's ever really been done before, right?"

"Don't think about catching one," Levi said distantly. "Just kill it."

"Sure," Hange laughed, pulling her scraggly mass of brown hair into a horribly chaotic mess of a ponytail. "By the way, when we get back, I'm getting you so drunk—"

"Finish that sentence, Hange," Levi said, turning to face the woman, "and I will kick your lousy ass off your fucking horse while we're riding."

"We're not even stationed anywhere near each other!"

"You think that matters?"

"I just want to see you drunk," Hange said, beaming down at him. "Is that so wrong?"

"It's creepy."

Hange grinned, and opened her mouth to retort, but then her face fell. She looked a little stunned for a moment, and Levi watched as she straightened up, her right fist thumping over her heart. "Commander?" Hange asked, eyebrows rising. Levi went rigid for half a heartbeat, and then he whirled around, looking upward at Erwin Smith as he stood at the other side of Levi's horse.

"Hange," Erwin said, studying Hange's face with a phlegmatic expression. "Wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Hange said, still saluting. Levi glanced at her, and then turned his face away. He focused on the saddle of his horse, testing the buckle to be sure it was secure. He could feel Erwin's gaze upon his face. It took a lot for Levi not to dive over his horse and knock the man to the ground— to let fists fly, and blood pool, and bones snap under the pressure of fists as they caved a skull in. Levi's body was taut from the tension.

"Ackerman."

Levi's entire body jolted, and his fingers faltered with the saddle. He looked up at Erwin Smith, the muscle in his jaw jumping as his teeth clenched. Erwin's eyes were as cold and emotionless, and his head tilted ever so slightly as he watched Levi with a piercing gaze. It was unnerving. Had Erwin always been so tall? Had his eyes always been so dead? Or perhaps the child in him had just never seen the monster in Erwin.

"Sir," Levi said in a low, clipped voice.

Erwin studied Levi's face for a long time. And Levi felt his cool begin to slip, his fingers clenching around the cinch of the saddle. His horse seemed sense his distress, and it twisted its head to nudge his cloak with its snout. Levi raised a hand to its head, running his fingers through the fine brown hair. He bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming.

Erwin turned his face away for a moment, his head bowing. Then, straightening, he turned back to Levi. "I wanted to ask," Erwin said slowly, "about your last name."

Levi's blood froze inside his veins. He stared stolidly ahead of him, carefully avoiding looking into Erwin's eyes. "What about it?" he asked briskly. He blinked fast, and stiffened. "Sir."

"I'm curious," Erwin said. "Where did that name come from?"

Levi's teeth ground against each other as he lowered his gaze to the ground. He hated him. He fucking hated him with every solitary fiber of his being. He wanted Erwin Smith to die so badly that his hands were shaking in rage. He could see all the possible deaths. He could taste the blood, taste the relief. He could feel his mind slipping through his fingers as the man crushed his will with a simple look.

"It's just a name," Levi said quietly.

"But," Erwin stated, "not your name."

A gust of wind toyed with the fabric of his new green cloak. It rustled through his hair, and stung his cheeks like a slap. There was no comfort in the chill. There was nothing but a sharp, cruel reality, and an oncoming storm. The clouds in the sky drifted in tufts of deep gray, and they tumbled lazily above them like a gloomy hammer about to drop onto their heads. Yes, a storm was coming. That was certain.

"Does that really matter?" Levi asked, standing straighter as he faced Erwin fully. I won't be scared to look you in the face, Levi thought wildly, because I want to see your soul when I slit your fucking throat. "A name is a name, and I've got the right to choose what you miserable fucks call me."

He heard Hange make a strange choking noise behind him, but he didn't care. He matched Erwin's stare with a chilly one to match. He could be as cold and volatile as the blustery weather that shivered through the street. And he knew this well. He knew who he was, and Erwin Smith wasn't going to make him second guess it.

"I see," Erwin said. He studied Levi for a moment longer, before giving him a curt nod. "Fine. Levi, you'll be flanking me."

Levi's mouth went dry. He found his shoulders squaring in shock, and he lifted his head a little higher. "What?" he asked, his voice carefully devoid. More so than usual.

"I'm changing your position," Erwin said, turning his back to Levi and Hange. "I want you by my side."

Fool, Levi wanted to shout. You damn bastard, you don't really still trust me, do you?

It worked so well in Levi's favor that the victory felt soiled. Too good to be true, too suspicious to be good. Could Erwin sense the hostility? Could he feel death creeping closer? Levi had no idea how years of fighting the Titans might affect a man's instincts. But the Erwin he had known had not been a fool. And Levi imagined that this man, this stranger, this monster in human skin… he was no fool either.

"Whoa," Hange gasped, thumping Levi between the shoulder blades. He instinctively shoved her back with a great deal of force, but Hange, with a strange amount of grace, merely jumped backwards onto the tips of her toes, her body poised in a tranquil position. Levi often forgot. Hange had ranked second. If he had not been a trainee with her, she would have easily ranked first. "What was all of that about?"

Levi shrugged. He hefted himself onto his saddle, and decided that ignoring Hange might be for the best.

"Hange," he said, grasping the reins of his horse with white knuckles. He glanced down at her, and jerked his chin. "If we both live through today, I'll take that stupid drink."

That scrambled Hange's priorities, and she immediately clasped her hands together excitedly. "Oh, it'll be more than one!" She smiled, and it was the most terrifyingly malicious thing he'd seen in a while. "I want to test how alcohol affects you, so you'll be downing a good five, six—"

Levi left her counting on her fingers and laughing brightly. His stomach twisted miserably at the thought that he might never see her again. Yes, Levi knew the odds. He knew the risks. He knew there were faces around him that would be gone within the hour. He knew that he could be one of them. But, that was unlikely. No, his downfall was something untouchable and unreachable. He could taste the possibility of it, but he would not look to see if it was truly there.

He tugged at his reins as his horse drew up alongside Erwin's. He would not look at the man, but instead he stared ahead at the gate. The apprehension would kill him before any titan, that was for sure. Erwin was not looking at him either, which could be a grace or a curse, Levi wasn't sure. His mind was clouded over with thoughts of blood and screams and a vow he had sworn in a necropolis once called home.

Vaguely, he recalled Mikasa. And suddenly he wasn't so confident in his goal. This was potentially his life he was throwing away. It might have been different, if Mikasa had not been a part of the equation, but she was. She was his family. The only person in the world he could truly count on to mourn for him should he die today. It was her name he had stolen, and even now he wasn't sure why. Was it that he wanted to prove that the girl was his? That they were without a doubt family?

The Survey Corps was very suddenly moving, and Levi watched Erwin's back as the sound of galloping horses broke hard across the thick, chilly air. They headed out through the Trost gate, and there was disgust coiling inside his chest, clenching his heart. Levi held so much hatred inside his heart, he couldn't be certain if there was any room for love any longer. His attachment to Mikasa could be nothing more than a selfish, possessive nature. He could not fight the monster he knew he was.

But he could fight the monster that was Erwin Smith.

They split off into squadrons, Levi flanking Erwin with three other soldiers he did not know. They were in the vanguard, which was undeniably vulnerable and dangerous. Wind breathed through his hair, and the sky began to spit and dribble in slow, uneven bursts. He felt mist graze across his cheeks, and he twisted his head as a smoke signal streamed through the drizzle of rain. A titan was close. And as the rain grew heavier, droplets sinking deeply into the mossy green cloak, it grew more difficult to see. That would be their last warning, undoubtedly. From here onward, they were all running blind.

Erwin had barked an order at the soldier flanking Levi, and as he did so Levi broke away. He reared his horse around, digging his stirrups into the sides of the beast, and urging it to run down a twisted, broken alleyway. The rain was suddenly sailing from the heavens, scraping across the streets of the dead town with waves of fury. Puddles gathered around his horse's hooves, turning into tiny seas and spitting at the air. Levi tasted the acidity around him, and he tasted sweat as he heard a horse follow him into the narrow passage.

Levi kept going. He weaved between buildings, and every so often he'd peer back to see if Erwin was following him. The man was barely a silhouette against the rain, but he was there. Thunder shook the earth around them, and booming across the ever darkening gray sky. Levi was chilled to the bone, his entire body thoroughly soaked. Water dribbled against his skin, stinging his cheeks and blinding him as he swerved, and pulled his horse into another narrow passage between crumbling stone buildings.

He yanked at the reins, yielding his horse as he felt Erwin closing in. He hopped off the saddle, his boots crashing against the pool of water gathering in the cracks of busted road. Erwin pulled up beside him, his face looking severe in the glow of the storm. Lightning cracked overhead, his Erwin's blue eyes glowed with cold fury.

"What are you doing?" Erwin asked, his voice bellowing over the pelting of water against the ground. "Don't tell me you're scared."

"No." Levi gripped his swords. "I'm not scared."

"Then why did you break formation?" Erwin's face was inscrutable, but even so Levi could sense his suspicion.

Levi's hands were shaking with rage. He didn't want to chat. He wanted Erwin's blood to melt into the pooling water at his feet. He wanted Erwin to know just how much Levi hated him, and he wanted him to feel that hatred as he asphyxiated on blood congealing in his throat.

"Levi," Erwin barked. "Now is not the time for this. Get back in formation."

He inhaled sharply, rainwater filling his mouth as he raised his head high, his shoulders tensing. Water dribbled down his nose, streaking down his face, and he could feel his hair plastering his forehead. His lips curled backwards into a feral snarl.

"Make me," Levi taunted, his voice loud and sharp. It was a thing a child would say.

And he felt like a child. Cold and wet, crouching in a narrow alleyway. He felt death creeping up on him, and he was prepared to deliver it a crippling blow. No one was going to defeat him. No one was going to beat him into a corner, and keep beating him until he heaved blood and spat it through his teeth. It was his turn once again to be the monster.

Erwin took the bait. He jumped from his horse, and stood over Levi like a shadow gaping, looming across the rain slick cobbles. Shall we not drink to our good fellowship, Levi thought, his body coiling in tension, and say thee and thou to each other? Levi might have said it out loud. It would certainly be ironic, wouldn't it? The shadow spitting out the very story the learned man had taught him years and years before. And then the shadow addressed the master as thou.

Instead of saying something poetic like that, Levi kicked Erwin in the stomach and tackled him before he had the chance to retaliate.

Levi's swords were out, and he let one extend to Erwin's neck. The blade grazed his throat precariously, and it glinted against the downpour. Erwin was propped onto his elbows, water soaking his backside as he matched Levi's intense stare with a calm, chilly gaze of his own. Levi held him down by digging his knees into his stomach and side, and he planted his fist against Erwin's chest to make it more difficult for him to breathe.

"What are you doing?" Erwin asked. Ever calm, and ever cold, he laid against the gathering rain like a rock amidst a toiling sea.

"What the fuck does it look like?" Levi snapped, his eyes ablaze. His body shook, and he couldn't say if it was rage that fueled him anymore. More like bitter resignation to a fate he could not change.

Erwin's eyes softened ever so slightly, and his brow furrowed. The rain sang around them, smashing against their faces like angry fists, the blows kissing their eyes and hair and trailing down their cheeks.

"Do you plan to kill me, Levi?" Erwin asked, his voice low and mechanical, barely hovering over the cacophony of rain and thunder.

Levi could feel his face contort as his fury overtook him. He adjusted his grip on his blade, and he gritted his teeth in unadulterated rage. It consumed him, and broke him apart until it reached his very core. He could feel himself slipping. His mind was crumbling.

"Yeah," Levi hissed. He could barely hear his own voice as it surfaced, bubbling slowly and bursting through the din. "The reason I joined the Survey Corps… was to kill you, Erwin."

The words were so bitter, they made his lips twist in disgust. In all his wonderings, he had never seen it like this. It had always been a quiet, secluded place. This was so open. Anyone could zoom overhead with their maneuver gear and see. There was a nagging voice inside Levi's head. Kill the bastard, do it now, it whispered. There's no time to waste, just eradicate the monster!

"Why?" Erwin asked. It was such a simple question. But there was a deeper question layered beneath it, that only Levi could hear. Why, Levi? What have I done to you to make you hate me so much? It was an innocent ignorance.

"Because you exist," Levi exhaled through his teeth, "because you're alive."

Erwin's eyes suddenly glowed with understanding. They turned upward toward the gloomy sky, and his brow furrowed further. Rain fell across his cheeks like unrelenting tears. "I see."

"Before I stick this sword in your throat," Levi said. "Tell me. Why did you do it? What the fuck did you gain from it?"

Erwin said nothing. He was still staring at the sky. And then, Levi heard it. The rumble of shingles loosening. Stones falling. He looked up just in time to see the gigantic fingertips of a titan crash into the nearly touching roofs that enclosed them. Bricks came tumbling down, and Levi jumped to his feet, his fingers grasping the triggers on his sword.

He stumbled as a brick struck him in the forehead. He went flying anyway, sliding through the narrow opening of the alley and jumping through it, his body whipping against the air. His stomach lurched as blood dribbled into his eye, and his vision blurred. He could barely see with the rain, but adding blood and… and possibly a concussion, and Levi was reeling with horror. His boots slipped against rain-slick roofs, and he pressed his triggers again before he went toppling off. A giant hand was grasping for him, and he relied on his instincts to carry him up above it. He hopped unsteadily against its hand, and then sent himself lurching into the street below. He redirected his attention to the titan, and without much thought he sent himself flying in that direction.

Instinct had him attaching himself to the titan's back and whirling his body around in a tight spiral. He felt his blades go through the nape, and the jolt of the kill went shooting up his arms. Blood splashed through the air, colliding with the rain, and Levi slid against the rooftop as he landed. The rain sent him sliding, and when he tried to squeeze his trigger, his fingers slipped against the slick water and blood mixture.

His body slid right off the roof, and when he tried to balance himself to land on his feet, he failed. He crashed against the ground in a crumpled heap of limbs, his blades clattering at his sides, and his gear snapping from his belt. Pain lanced through him, and he couldn't think straight. His head was pounding, and his heart was too, and everything was hazy and wet and gray, and suddenly there was red too. Red seeping into his eyes. Was he bleeding? Why wasn't he moving? He had to move!

A tall shadow loomed over him, dropping before him with a startling amount of grace. Levi's eyes were half-closed, but when he managed to twist his head to peer through the cascade of rain. Erwin stared down at him, his eyes an eerie gleam in the monochrome world around them. Levi's heart sprung into his throat. He'd failed. He'd truly failed.

"Kill me," Levi choked, blood dribbling down his chin. He was begging. There was no thought of Mikasa, no glimmer of hope for the future. He felt as though he had died twice already, and it was only suiting that all three times be at the hand of Erwin Smith.

Erwin's eyes were still radiating against the chill of rain, glowing softly in a shower of gray. Thunder broke through just then, and Levi's body shook. He didn't know what was broken, if anything was, but he knew he couldn't get back to his horse, let alone ride one, and he could not be eaten, not today, not ever, and he needed this. He needed it to be Erwin Smith's hand that delivered that final blow.

"Kill me," Levi pleaded, his lips wet and red and glistening. "Damn it…" He coughed, and it was a wet cough of defeat. He remembered a bed, a chill, blood dribbling against his chin. "No…" he whispered. Had whispered. It didn't matter. Death was all the same. "Kill me!"

Erwin knelt down beside Levi. His severe features were softened by the layers of rain. Levi's could not comprehend what was wrong with him, but he was so completely out of sync with the world that he could barely breathe. He felt weak, and it terrified him.

"Kill me…" he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut.

Erwin Smith scooped him up into his arm as easily as if he were a child. If Levi had been in a sound state of mind, he would have jammed a blade into Erwin's shoulder just for picking him up alone. Not to mention his other sins against Levi. But instead, Levi sunk into the man's arms, his eyes wide and horror-stricken.

What is this bullshit? Levi thought wildly. His vision was blackening rapidly. He saved me. He fucking saved me.

Levi believed that Erwin Smith had killed him twice in his life. Once as a child, and once as a man. But he was wrong. Erwin Smith had saved him twice, and it was undeniable.

After all, wasn't he still breathing?

Chapter Text

It was a glittering summer afternoon when Levi was shoved through the narrow doorway of Harmon Orphanage by a grumpy MP. His boots, which swallowed up his feet and bony ankles like two yawning maws, scuffed across the wooden floor as he was yanked roughly and jerked forward. Trula Harmon, an elderly woman with a gaunt face and wiry gray hair, was standing in the entryway with a look of horror spilling across her face slowly, like milk pooling around a broken glass. Blood dribbled down the side of Levi's pale face, smearing across his right eyelid and licking down his cheek in a streak of red. His grin was bloody.

"My goodness..." Miss Harmon breathed, wringing her hands as Levi was pushed at her again. This time, he managed a wince, but did not stop grinning.

That was, until the MP whacked him hard across the mouth.

He was snapped from his daze of victory by a fist. Immediately his face fell, and he met Miss Harmon's eye. She looked at him with a cool gaze, and he knew he was in for it. His shoulders slumped a little as the situation fell onto him. Yeah. He was fucked well and good.

"Harmon," the MP spat, shaking Levi's scrawny body until his brain rattled in his skull. "I told you. I told you what'd happen if I caught another one of your damn kids stealing!"

"I know," Miss Harmon said calmly. "Levi, what did you steal?"

Levi didn't dare look at her face. Instead he looked at his scuffed brown boots, which were too big by far. And then he looked past Miss Harmon to a boy standing in he foyer. He was starkly unfamiliar with a clean face and dull eyes. He was wearing a crisp white cotton shirt, which was tucked into shorts. He wore a blazer, and his pale hair was neatly combed to the side. If ever there was a child who looked the opposite of Levi in that moment, it was this stranger of a boy. And the boy had a suitcase resting at his feet.

"Levi!" Miss Harmon snapped.

"An apple," Levi replied, his voice a cold drawl. It was the broken way anyone born and raised in the slums of Wall Sina spoke. "Or two."

"Did you eat them?" Miss Harmon asked, back to her steady placid tone.

"No." Levi shifted against the MP's grip. He felt a little shame curling up inside him like a fire sparking.

Miss Harmon seemed to visibly relax. "If they were returned to the owner," Miss Harmon said to the MP, "I don't see any reason for you to linger here, sir."

That nearly caused Levi's bloody grin to return. Instead he looked up at the MP expectantly, and all but ran to Miss Harmon's side when the man released him. She immediately grabbed him by the chin, snapping his head to the side to get a better look at his head wound. He grimaced as she pushed his hair back, tenderly brushing her fingers around the bleeding cut. He had been assaulted with the butt of a gun. After surrendering the apples back to the owner. Typical.

"Look, kid," the MP said sharply. Levi looked up at him blankly. "I mean it this time. Don't try anything like this again."

Levi stared at him, and he cocked his head. "Yes," Levi sneered as the man turned his back to him. He mock saluted the MP, his fist driving hard against his chest as he folded is left arm behind his back. "Sir."

When he was gone, Miss Harmon dragged him into the bathroom before Levi could so much as squeak. She slammed the door shut, and in that moment she looked ancient to him. She was a crone, a wisdom he could not grasp, and he was an insolent child. She looked at him, and there was shame and terror in her eyes.

"Levi," she said, her voice low. "You need to stop doing this."

"I put the apple back."

"You know what I mean." Miss Harmon sighed, and she grabbed a cloth from the rung above the bathtub. He flinched away from her after she wet it and tried to press it to his forehead. Eventually he gave up, and hissed a little through his teeth as she gingerly dabbed at his wound. "They're going to take you away, you know."

Levi said nothing. He stared at the door, at the chips in the white paint revealing pale brown wood. His fists tightened at his side.

"They'll take you away," Miss Harmon continued. "Put you somewhere else. Not in Yalkell, I'll tell you that. They'll probably take you to the capital and let you rot there in some military-run orphanage. Is that what you want?"

He blinked rapidly as she applied too much pressure on his wound, and he jumped away from her, his eyes watering from the pain. She grasped his wrists, and bent down so that they were eyelevel.

"Levi, you've been here a long time," she said softly. He stared at her with wide eyes. She's serious, he realized. Oh shit, I've done it now. "And I know it's hard, but you need to behave, or else they won't let you stay with me. Do you understand?"

"I'm not stupid," Levi grumbled.

"Then stop acting like it," Miss Harmon said sharply, her hand swatting his hair. He bowed his head. Well, at least he hadn't gotten the wooden spoon. "You're an intelligent boy, but you insist on acting like a thug!"

"Can I go now?" Levi asked, shifting nervously. Miss Harmon's dark eyes bore into his, and he gritted his teeth. "Please?"

"Fine." She rubbed at his cheek a little more, wiping the blood away. "Get Trudy to bandage your head, will you?"

"Yeah." He ducked under her arm and fled the bathroom in a hurry. He ran through the foyer and into the elongated dorm. He stopped in his tracks when he passed the tidy looking boy with the suitcase. The boy stared at Levi with eyes like murky puddles, his thick eyebrows furrowing at the sight of him. Blood still trickled from Levi's forehead. "Who the hell are you?"

The boy's shoulders tensed up, and he stood speechless.

Miss Harmon appeared at Levi's back, and she grasped him be the shoulder. She, like most people, towered over him without fail. "Levi," she reprimanded with a voice like a slap. "Manners."

"Right," Levi said, his lips twisting in distaste. He lifted his chin high, and folded his arms across his chest. "Who the hell are you, sir?"

Miss Harmon actually smacked him over the head this time.

"Levi, this is Erwin Smith," Miss Harmon said. Levi didn't really care anymore. He just wanted to go upstairs where all the other kids were. "He's going to be staying with us."

"That's shitty."

"Levi."

Levi shrugged, and he looked directly into Erwin Smith's murky blue eyes. "It's true, though," he said, his voice loud and matter-of-fact. "Staying with us means you've got nowhere else to go. That's shitty."

Miss Harmon gave a long sigh, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. The boy merely stared down at Levi with slightly widening eyes. He looked a little shell-shocked, his face pallid and his eyes gauzy. He was older than Levi by a few years, that was clear in his features, but he had the air of someone much younger. Someone who had only been broken once, and was still healing. Levi, who had been born into the world without a home and grown without a name, could only empathize to an extent.

"Take Erwin with you upstairs, will you?" Miss Harmon said, after taking a very long pause to stare at Levi's face. "And tell the other children I said to behave themselves."

"Whatever." Levi shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing past Erwin Smith without a care and running up the steps. His boots squelched against the wood, too big and too cumbersome, but he made do. They were the only shoes he owned. When Levi glanced behind him, he saw Erwin Smith following reluctantly, and so he stopped at the landing. "You're real slow, you know that?"

Erwin gripped the railing as he stepped up to the stair just below where Levi was standing. The older boy still towered over him. His faded blue eyes watched Levi's face impassively, and then he looked away.

"I'll try to be fast," Erwin said distantly.

"Yeah, okay." Levi spun around, and he burst through the door that led to the "play" room. It felt more like a clubhouse than anything else. When he entered, all eyes fell upon him. There was a shriek of delight when a lanky girl of around ten jumped to her feet and clasped her hands together excitedly.

"Finally!" Trudy Rafer cried. She was tall and skinny, her face long and warm colored, and her eyes large and gray. She had cropped, wispy hair that hung around her ears in sandy curls. "Took you long enough!"

"I'm fine," Levi snapped at his foster sister. "Thanks for giving a shit."

"Oh, please," Trudy sniffed, waving offhandedly. "Miss Harmon'd skin ya alive if you were in deep shit, and you know it."

Levi stepped into the room, which was expansive enough to fit the ten children of Harmon Orphanage. They were all sitting around in a circle, lounging on overturned boxes or crammed onto the chest of toys that had been donated or were collectively shared. Some sat on the floor, and some stood. At the center of the circle was lumpy a rucksack.

"We waited till you got back," Klaus Mendell said softly. He was a younger boy who enjoyed running, and thus was long-legged and willowy. His face was soft, and his eyes were the color of rotted wood. "It's only fair. You kinda saved our asses."

Levi maneuvered easily around Klaus, and he plucked up the bag. The contents shifted, and the faces of shiny red apples gleamed up at him. "No one saw you?" Levi asked.

"Do you think we'd have that if we were caught?" Trudy asked haughtily.

"The only way we got away is because of you," Klaus admitted. He turned to an even younger boy, who was all of four. He was the youngest, and the most naïve. The child still refused to accept he was alone in the world. "Don't listen to Trudy, she's just mean."

"Trudy," Henri, the small boy, said. "Why are you mean?"

"I'm not mean!" Trudy's brow furrowed. She rounded on the twins who sat complacently on the chest of toys. They were two girls with dark hair and freckles, and their names were Rosie and Hilde. "Am I mean?'

"A little," Rosie said, kicking her legs idly. "Hey, Levi, who is that?"

Levi glanced back at Erwin, who was standing in the doorway with a nervous look about him. "Erwin," Levi called. "Come here."

He entered the room slowly, and Levi shoved the bag in Trudy's face. "Pass these out," he told her.

"Say please," Trudy said snidely.

"Please," Levi hissed, smacking the back against her chest.

She smirked, and tossed him an apple. He caught it in one hand, glaring up at her smug face. "That's all I ask," she giggled.

"Bitch." Levi rolled his body in the air and plopped into the girl's seat the moment she sat up. She passed out the apples that had been stolen previous to Levi's diversion to throw the produce seller off his foster siblings' trail.

"Are you new?" Hilde asked Erwin, her head cocking to the side.

Erwin looked at her, and he nodded vacantly. "My name is Erwin Smith," he said.

"Uh," Trudy said, her voice trailing off. "Hey. Levi?"

"What?" Levi rolled his apple in his palm.

"There're ten apples."

He bit his tongue to keep himself from snapping at her. Well, how many else would you get, stupid? But he realized the problem. He looked up at Erwin, and he closed his eyes. How wonderful this day was turning out for him. Try and feed a house of orphans, and you get an empty stomach and a bloody head.

"Hey," Levi said, staring ahead of him blankly. "Erwin."

Erwin looked down at him, his eyes still distant and gauzy.

Levi tossed his apple at the older boy. "Eat up."

The boy caught the apple in one hand, and he stared down at it in shock. "No," he blurted, stepping back. "This is yours."

"Weren't you listening downstairs?" Levi asked in a bored voice. "I got caught stealing my apple."

"But—"

"Fighting Levi is pointless," laughed a round-faced girl. She was eleven, and too smiley all around. Her name was Lynette, and she was a very bright and energetic girl. She wore her mousy brown hair in pigtails. "He's pretty stubborn."

"Stubborn is cuttin' it short," Klaus said. He smiled warmly at Levi, but Levi ignored him. "Hey, Erwin, how old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Cool!" Trudy gasped. "So is Douglas!"

Douglas looked up from picking the grim out of his nails. He was a bulky boy with tightly curled brown hair and watery blue eyes. His face was a mess of freckles and acne. "What?" he asked.

"Doug, this is Erwin," Klaus said.

"I know that," Doug said, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not deaf."

Levi decided to tune out their voices after that. That first meeting had been normal enough. And Levi could never had known how Erwin Smith would be a catalyst for the worst of Levi's sorrows. How could he? To Levi, Erwin initially seemed like a nervous, doe eyed child. Like most new orphans.

He was first proved wrong about a month after Erwin's arrival. His eyes were no longer cloudy with grief, and he talked more to the other children curtly and politely, his demeanor always calm and easy. Miss Harmon loved him for the way he could wrangle all the kids together, and keep them silent. He had a way with getting people to listen to him. He was very skilled in the art of winning people over.

Levi was not easy to impress, however.

It was not odd for children in the slums to partake in fist fighting. There was a lot of pent up rage within their small bodies, and it was easier to take it out on each other than it was to actually deal with it. Levi was often a part of one-on-one fights, more often then not reigning supreme. He surprised other children and teenagers by holding his own against the majority of larger opponents. Levi was undeniably fast, and undeniably strong, but he was also full of an unquenchable fury that tipped the scale. There was no surrender for an unbendable child.

Fists flew at dusk. Levi, who was clothed in his baggy, threadbare slacks and too large boots and patchwork vest over a wrinkled cotton shirt, stood against a teenage boy who had taunted his height. The teenager was tall and broad-shouldered, his face severe and his silhouette intimidating. Levi looked rather scrawny in comparison.

And yet, Levi had brought the teenager, Nikel Maine, to his knees. He'd stood over the boy with his boot pressing into his cheek, his shoulders hunched in rage. "Now," Levi said, "who's puny?"

Nikel spat at Levi's feet. The teenager's gang, which Levi knew to be rather notorious around these parts of Yalkell, burst into laughter. Levi allowed himself to feel a little sense of pride. After all, he lost as many fistfights as he won, and it wasn't often he had an audience of this magnitude.

"Levi!"

Levi cocked his head back, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth where one of Nikel's stray punches had hit home. His eyes narrowed as Erwin Smith came jogging into the alley, his neat appearance a strange sight amongst hoodlums and thugs.

"What?" Levi asked, tensing up as Erwin stepped through the ring of spectators, appearing at the small boy's back.

"Miss Harmon's been looking for you," Erwin said, his eyes trailing to Levi's foot in Nikel Maine's nasty pug face. "You missed dinner."

"Do I look like I care?" Levi lifted his boot from Nikel's face. "I'm busy."

"The kid's got a 6-0 winning streak," the leader of Nikel's gang, Elroy Charnell, said. "How old are you again, Levi?"

"Nine."

A bout of snickers erupted through the group, Levi frowned a little as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nikel got his ass whooped by a nine year old!" a heavy boy exclaimed.

"Shuddap," Nikel spat, blood spewing from his mouth and nose.

Erwin eyed Elroy with a wary gaze. "Levi," Erwin said steadily. "Let's go."

Levi didn't so much as spare Erwin a glance. "Nothing's stopping you," Levi said. "Leave."

"I'm serious."

"So am I." Levi dusted off his knuckles, which had been taped up with medical gauze by a bystander before his first fight. It was battered and torn, unraveling a little bit around his thumbs. "Leave. Unless you want to watch me fight, or fight me, get the hell out of here."

Erwin stood for a moment, staring down at Levi with a strangely cold gaze. "Fine," he said briskly.

Levi finally looked up at him. "What?" he asked, his brow furrowing a little.

"Fine," Erwin said, shrugging off his fine blaze, and tossing it aside as if it was as ratty as Levi's vest. "I'll fight you."

Levi laughed. He'd spun around, raising his chin high, and he'd barked a laugh so cynical it had burnt his tongue with the acidity of it. "Fine," he said eagerly, offering out his hand. Erwin grasped it tightly, his large fingers swallowing up Levi's slender ones. "But don't come crying when I mess up your prissy pig face."

Erwin's expression did not budge. He squeezed Levi's hand, and then let go to roll up his sleeves. He was wearing suspenders with trousers, having hung up his shorts when the weather had gotten cooler. As he rolled his sleeves, his forearms were bare to Levi, and so were pale scars winding around the older boy's wrists. Rope burns, Levi thought immediately. He'd been tied up his fair share, but mostly due to the cruelty of other children on the streets. And the burns never broke skin.

"Fight!" barked Elroy Charnell. And Erwin came at Levi without any reservations. Levi, who'd been distracted by the rope burns, received a blow to the side of his head that knocked him off his feet.

His ears were ringing after that. His equilibrium had been thrown off, and the dirt of the cobble filled his mouth with a dusty sweetness that mingled with the blood already there. The action of his head smacking against stone reopened the cut a grumpy MP had left on Levi's forehead, and blood pooled around his eyes. He pushed himself onto his knees, taking a steadying deep breath.

"Now will you come home?" Erwin asked, standing with an air of reluctance about him. He doesn't want to fight me, Levi thought anxiously. Fuck him.

"No," Levi said, spitting a bit of blood onto the cobble. He stood up, his knees wobbling a little. "I still think you should fucking leave."

Erwin sighed, and then he moved in for the next punch. But Levi knew it was coming this time, and he reached out and snatched Erwin's wrist, his fingernails digging into the white scars of rope burns. Levi watched Erwin's eyes widen, and he felt a shudder run through his arm as it jerked at the last moment, missing its target. Levi took advantage of this, and he jumped up, his bony fist moving into an uppercut and driving into Erwin's chin.

"Funny," Levi said, squeezing Erwin's wrist as he stumbled backwards. "Where did these scars come from?"

In response to Levi's question, Erwin backhanded him so hard that Levi was flung to the ground, his teeth cracking together painfully. His lip had split open, and blood dribbled from his nose, splashing again his already blood smeared face. Before Levi could recollect himself, Erwin drove his foot into Levi's chest, causing him to gasp a little. His eyes widened in surprise.

"I win," Erwin said sharply. "Now we're going home."

Levi's eyes were still wide when Erwin offered out his hand and helped him to his feet. He scowled at his feet, and said nothing when Erwin dragged him from the ring of spectators, snatching his blazer from the ground. Elroy Charnell stopped him, grabbing him by the arm.

"Hey," he said, smirking down at the two of them. "If you two want to meet up with me later—"

"Not interested," Erwin stated, wheeling Levi around and shoving him down the street. Levi went without objection. He was still a little stunned.

"You're a bastard, Erwin," Levi said quietly as they moved through the darkened streets.

"I'm aware."

"You're also not as prissy as I thought," Levi said slowly. He touched his nose gingerly. He hadn't much pride left at that point. He had no qualms in saying so.

Erwin walked by his side, looking straight ahead. "No?" he asked, sounding curious.

"No."

"Well," Erwin said. A small smile appeared on his lips. "That's nice to know."

"What the hell are you smiling at?" Levi snapped.

Erwin shrugged. "I'm just imagining the thrashing you're going to get from Miss Harmon," he said.

Levi sighed. He scratched his head with dirty fingers, and shrugged. "Miss Harmon doesn't really beat us," Levi said distantly. "She'll whack our knuckles with the spoon, or give us a smack when we're mouthy, but she never thrashes us around, or anything like that." He paused, and he glanced at the rope burns again.

Erwin pulled his sleeves down over his wrists to hide the scars. "Good to know," he said, with an equal amount of distance to his tone.

It was then that Levi began to pity Erwin Smith. And it was then that they became akin to friends.

Erwin found out Levi was illiterate around wintertime. He'd been reading from the pile of books he had brought with him (the books had outnumbered the articles of clothing in Erwin Smith's suitcase), and Levi had been sitting in the bed across from him. He'd watched Erwin flip through books as though they were blank, breezing through volumes with attentive eyes scanning pages.

"What book is that?" Levi asked. They were alone for the day, as most of the other children had decided to go with Miss Harmon to shop for dinner. Levi and Erwin had stayed behind out of disinterest.

Erwin said nothing, but shifted his grip on the book to hold up the cover. Levi stared at it blankly.

"What book is that?" he repeated, growing a little angry. He could see there were words emblazoned on its front, but he had no idea what it might say.

Erwin looked a little irritated as he held up the cover, tapping the title of the book impatiently. He still did not look up from the page he was reading.

Levi flung his legs over the side of his bed and walked to the foot of Erwin's. He continued to stare at the book cover until Erwin glanced up at him.

"What is it?" Erwin sighed.

"You won't tell me what that stupid book is."

"I showed you—" Erwin stopped. He stared at Levi, and then down at his book. Then he flipped the book around, and shoved it under Levi's nose. "Can you read this?"

He pointed to a slew of words. They looked like little smudges of symbols on an egg-white page. Levi took the book in his hands, clutching it tightly, and he stared down at the words for a long time. He stared at them with his jaw tight, and his shoulders tense, and he stared at them like he would stare down the barrel of a gun. There was nothing in his eyes but solid terror. Blood flooded his cheeks as he opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"It's okay if you can't," Erwin said gently.

"Eat shit," Levi snapped, his eyes welling with tears of shame.

"Are you…?" Erwin sat up straight on his bed. "Hey, don't cry. Do you want me to teach you?"

"I'm not crying," Levi said, snapping the book shut and throwing it onto Erwin's mattress. "And I don't need you to teach me a damn thing."

"You don't need to be so stubborn," Erwin said weakly.

Levi whirled away, his bare feet squeaking against the floorboards. He was angry and ashamed, and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Erwin could read so much so fast, and Levi couldn't even discern a title. It stung far too much for something so silly. And he hated himself for letting it get to him.

Erwin sat down at the foot of Levi's bed when the boy buried his flushed face in his pillow. "Do you know the alphabet?" Erwin asked. Levi responded with his middle finger raised up. "Come on, sit up. I'll teach you."

Levi sat up reluctantly as Erwin held up a journal and a pen. "Let's start with how much you know," Erwin said calmly. "Now. A…?"

Levi stared at him vacantly. "A…?" Levi repeated confusedly.

Erwin's face seemed to blanche. "Oh," he laughed nervously. "This might be harder than I thought."

"Wow," Levi sneered. "I'm so glad I asked to be taught."

"Be quiet and listen," Erwin said. " F…"

By the time the other children returned, Levi could write a very crude version of the alphabet, and recite it by heart.

Spring came, and Levi could read basic sentences. It was a difficult, agonizingly slow process. There were many instances when Levi threatened to jab his pen into Erwin's eye, or hand, or both, because he couldn't deal with his frustration. Why were words so hard? Why were there rules to grammar, and why was spelling so intricate and delicate? Why the fuck couldn't it just be easy?

"I don't understand this story," Levi said, slamming his pencil down.

"It's quite simple," Erwin said. "Come on, Levi. Just keep reading."

"We've been at this bullshit for hours."

"All the more reason to keep going," Erwin pushed. "You're making so much progress."

"You're lying."

"I'm serious," Erwin said, smiling warmly. Levi stared at him, and looked back down at the book, frowning pensively. "You're really doing well, Levi. You can read sentences, and write them too!"

"Yeah…" He chewed at the eraser of his pencil, and he shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm still no good at it. Not like you."

"I've been reading almost all my life," Erwin said, shaking his head. "You've only been reading for a few months."

"This is stupid," Levi grumbled, flattening out a page in Erwin's story. He read aloud as he began to write slowly. ""Make your… self quite easy," said the lee… uh… learned man," he read hesitantly, ""I will tell no one who you really are. Here is my hand— I… I… prom…isch—""

"Promise," Erwin corrected, peering over Levi's shoulder as he wrote.

"I promise, and a word is suf… what the fuck, Erwin?"

"Sufficient," Erwin said, reaching over Levi's arm, and pointing to the word in question. "Do you know what that means?"

"Uh, no," Levi said, gritting his teeth. "I thought you said these stories were meant for kids."

"They are," Erwin sighed. "Keep going, you're doing well."

"What does sufficient mean?"

"It's like… enough of something," Erwin said. He looked a little pensive. "Seriously, keep going."

"Fine." Levi scratched his head with his eraser. "Um… a word is sufficient between man and man." Levi tossed down his pencil. "This story is stupid."

"Do you want to read a different one?" Erwin asked, picking up the book gingerly.

"I hate fairy tales," Levi said.

Erwin smiled placidly. He had a lot of patience, and somehow he took everything Levi said in a stride. Levi couldn't fathom it. None of the other kids were ever so calm around him, no matter how used to his bratty personality they were. But Erwin seemed to just accept Levi utterly, without any reservations.

"Why is that?" Erwin asked. They were upstairs in the playroom, alone as usual, while the other children were outside actually playing. Levi couldn't help but be jealous of them.

"Because they're stupid!" Levi stood up, stretching his arms over his head. "No one in fairy tales actually acts like a person. They're all idiots who get themselves cursed, or eaten, or executed, or something horrible like that."

"Not too different from real life," Erwin muse aloud, smiling slightly as he lay down across the floor.

"Except real life hasn't got any happy endings," Levi said, wandering to the window to peer into the street. The other children were playing ball, kicking it around the cobbles and shrieking with delight.

"Neither does this story," Erwin said, rolling onto his stomach and tapping the open book. "The learned man dies in the end."

"But the shadow lives," Levi said. "The shadow gets a happy ending."

"But," Erwin said, looking up at Levi, "evil wins. That's not happy."

"It's happy for someone."

"That is strangely optimistic," Erwin said. "I wouldn't expect it from you."

Levi twisted to scowl at Erwin. "You know what I mean."

"Why can't things be happy?" Erwin asked, resting his chin in his arms. "What's so wrong with it?"

"It's unrealistic."

"How so?"

"Because there are no happy endings in this world," Levi said sharply. Erwin looked up at him, his eyes widening. "We die. We become stinking dead bodies, and that's our fate."

"But that…" Erwin frowned, and he sat up. "No, that's wrong. There's still happiness, even if we're all destined to die. Come on, Levi, now you're the one being stupid. Aren't you ever happy?"

"Of course." He found himself feeling embarrassed. "That's not the point."

Erwin sighed loftily. "You're so hard to talk to," he said, smiling faintly. "It's like arguing with a brick wall."

"Shut the fuck up, you prissy—"

"I joined Elroy Charnell's gang," Erwin said softly.

Levi froze. He stared at Erwin, who was sitting with the book of fairy tales in his lap, his head bowed. Levi knew that Erwin had been wealthy prior to coming to the orphanage. It was written in the way he spoke, the soft cadence of his words and the refined nature of his mannerisms. But he was never pretentious or condescending, and he never complained about how much he lacked now.

"You said gangs are worthless," Levi said, anger building inside him. "That they just promote senseless violence."

"I did say that."

"Then why the fuck—?"

"My business," Erwin said, raising his head to meet Levi's eye. "I just thought you might want to know. So you don't worry if I get home late."

"Why would I worry about your sorry ass?"

Erwin sighed. "I don't know, Levi," Erwin said, "but this way you can cover for me with Miss Harmon." He smiled up at Levi innocently. "Right?"

Levi stared at him. "You're not as nice as everyone thinks you are," Levi said darkly. "No. I won't. I want to join too."

Erwin's shoulders tensed up, and stood up, snapping the book closed. "Absolutely not," he said.

"I don't need your permission."

"What you need," Erwin said, hugging his book to his chest, "is a brain."

"I'm sure I can steal one," Levi snapped. "Since apparently that's the only thing I'm good at, right?"

"I never said that."

"You just called me stupid."

"You are stupid!" Erwin shook his head. "I mean, not stupid-stupid, you're just… you don't understand, Levi. You've gotten into so much trouble already, and I know that Miss Harmon is scared they'll take you away."

"Shut up." Levi folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not going to get taken away."

"You're not joining, okay?" Erwin stared at Levi, his gaze long and cold. "That's final."

"Go to hell, Erwin."

"I will gladly do so," Erwin said, turning toward the door. "It's not like I'm going to have a happy ending anyway, right?"

Levi almost ran after him to push him down the stairs.

Like most fights children have, this one faded fast. Levi and Erwin were back to reading fairy tales again before the week's end, and Levi decided not to broach the subject of the gang Erwin had joined. Instead they focused on the fact that the youngest among them, Henri, was to be adopted.

"You think he'll be okay?" Klaus whispered as they all watched the small boy leave.

"They seem nice," Trudy said, shrugging.

"That means shit," Levi spat. "I don't trust them."

"You don't trust anyone," Klaus laughed. Erwin stood stolidly behind them, before turning to speak with Douglas. He met Levi's eye, and shook his head. He seemed to disagree with Levi, which was unsurprising. Klaus elbowed Levi gently. "Hey, you wanna race?"

"You wanna lose?" Levi asked, his apprehension about Henri's adoption fading. His lips curled back, and he bent down to roll up his slacks.

"I ain't losing," Klaus said, grinning broadly. "Not to your skinny ass."

Levi moved to take off his shoes, which were far too big to properly race in, but Erwin stopped him.

"Don't go around barefoot," Erwin warned. "There's been a illness going around."

"I'm not going to get sick," Levi said, jerking away from Erwin.

"You never wash your hands."

Levi kicked off his boots. "Don't bitch at me, there's never any soap anyway."

"Levi…"

"Erwin's right," Trudy said. "You should wear your boots, Levi."

The cobbles were hot against his toes. Summer sun licked at his bare arms, and he shoved past Trudy. "You just want to see me lose."

Trudy threw her hands into the air. "Sorry for being genuinely concerned!"

Klaus rolled his shoulders as Levi crouched into position. "You wanna bet on it?" Klaus asked.

"What are you willing to give?" Levi asked.

"Well," Klaus grinned cheekily, "nothin', really. We're both broke off our asses."

"True," Levi said. "Loser steals dinner."

"Whoa," Klaus whistled. "Deal."

"Okay," Hilde said, stepping between them. "You two know the rules. You run to the end of the street, slap Rosie's hand, then run back. The first one to slap my hand wins."

Klaus crouched beside Levi, rolling up his own trousers before getting into position. Hilde looked between them as the rest of the children cleared out of the way.

"Ready?" Hilde asked. She raised her arms into the air, and let them drop. "Go!"

Levi bolted forward, streaking ahead of Klaus with a burst of speed. His bare feet slapped against the ground, and he maneuvered between passersby as he flung himself forward. He didn't dare look to see where Klaus was, and when he reached Rosie, who stood at the end of the street with her arms extended, he smacked her hand and pivoted.

As he ran back, he nearly stumbled over himself as a woman stepped into his path. She was skinny and tall, her long dark hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was smiling lazily at him, and he gritted his teeth as he all but plowed into her, shoving her aside.

"Move!" he cried. But it was too late. Klaus had already gotten ahead of him, and as Levi skidded to a stop, his feet scraping painfully against the baking cobble, Hilde had already let her arms drop to her side. Klaus had won. Levi whirled around to face the woman who had distracted him. "Damn it, Schatz!"

Greta Schatz's large blue eyes glittered at the sight of him. "Aw," she giggled, "look at you! You're so big now, Levi!"

Klaus snorted, and Levi glared at him. "We all know that's a lie," Klaus laughed.

"Yeah," Trudy giggled, "Levi never grows!"

"I hate you all," Levi said glumly.

"No, I'm serious," Schatz said, stepping behind Levi and patting his head gently. He swatted her hand away. "You've gotten so big, I hardly recognize you."

"It really hasn't been that long since the last time you visited," Levi said, wrinkling his nose. He scooped up his discarded shoes, idly thinking about flinging them at Schatz's head.

"It's been forever," Schatz said. "I don't even know half these kids!"

"You know me," Klaus said.

"Yes, Klaus, I know you," Schatz said. "And of course the twins. Where's baby Henri?"

"Just missed him," Klaus said, unrolling his trousers. "He was adopted today."

"No way!" Schatz gasped. She was twenty years old, and she still acted like she belonged with the lot of them. "That's great!"

"Why are you here, Schatz?" Levi asked.

"I wanted to say hi?" Schatz looked at him, her splotchy face even redder in the summer sun. "Gosh, you've gotten even grumpier, haven't you?"

"He's always like that," Trudy said, waving at Levi offhandedly. "I'm Trudy Rafer."

"Greta Schatz," Schatz said, smiling warmly at the girl. "It's nice to meet you, sweetheart."

"Did you used to live here?" Trudy asked eagerly.

"Yes, actually," Schatz said. "I wasn't here as long as Levi, but I did live here for a while!"

"Cut the shit," Levi said sharply. "You're never this nice, Schatz."

"I don't think you remember me all that well," Schatz said, smiling at Levi. "I'm very nice."

"You're really not."

"I think Schatz is nice," Hilde said. Rosie appeared at her side, but said nothing. She looked a little stunned to see Schatz there.

"Thanks, Hilde," Schatz said, winking at the girl. "You're mighty nice too."

"Are you drunk?" Levi asked.

"Nope," Schatz said. She glanced at Erwin. "Oh, you're new, aren't you? What's your name, hun?"

"Erwin," he said hesitantly.

"Cute," she said, smiling. "Very cute. Now, I'm gonna talk to Miss Harmon."

"Good riddance," Klaus teased. Schatz shoved him gently in response.

"You damn kids," Schatz laughed. "You're all lousy little shits."

"That one would be true," Klaus admitted.

Levi grabbed Erwin's arm and began to drag him down the street. He looked startled. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Stealing dinner."

After that, Levi began to see less and less of Erwin. There were brief periods were Levi wouldn't see Erwin at all, and he would lay awake at night wondering what the hell the boy was up to. What on earth could he be doing that had him out so late? And how did he manage to sneak in and out without Miss Harmon not noticing? It was a riddle for the ages, and Levi was stuck.

A few weeks into the winter, Nikel Maine took his revenge for the previous year's beating. Yes. Nikel Maine was very good at holding grudges.

"Hey," Nikel called one chilly winter afternoon. Levi had been cutting through an alley on his way back from visiting Henri, who had recently gotten a cold. He'd been coughing a lot while Levi had tried to talk to him, but after some light interrogation, he deemed the new family safe enough. He also promised to come visit again later in the week. "Runt!"

Levi turned around, twisting his head to glance at the teenager. His lip twisted in disgust. "What do you want, swine?" Levi asked.

Nikel tossed his hands into the air, a lazy smirk resting on his nasty face. He was dressed warmly, with a long coat hanging to his calves, a navy scarf, and dark gloves. All Levi had was a threadbare jacket, his patched up vest over a cotton shirt, and the same pair of slacks he always wore. Oh, and of course. His oversized shoes.

"Just hanging out," Nikel said, looking rather smug. "You know. So what's a little shit like you doing out all by your lonesome?"

"Don't patronize me," Levi snapped. His body coiled into a defensive position. "If you wanna fight, just get on with it."

"Patronize," Nikel repeated, whistling lowly. "Wow, big word! Did Smith teach it to you?"

Levi flushed at that, and he glowered at Nikel's face. And then, within the span of a heartbeat, there were three other boys surrounding Levi, snatching his arms before he could manage to fight them off. He struggled a little, startled at how quickly the situation had escalated. There was a difference between an alleyway fistfight and a gang assault.

"What the hell?" Levi asked aloud, twisting against the grip of the boys who gripped his arms. "What the fuck are you doing, Maine?"

"You're so mouthy," Nikel sighed, stalking up before Levi with something like malice glinting in his eyes. "You really need to learn to mind your tongue!"

Levi saw his fist coming down, and before it could make its mark he flung his leg up with as much force as he could manage. His boot crashed into Nikel's jaw, and Nikel's fist grazed Levi's cheek. And then there was chaos. Levi was flung to the ground, and no matter how hard he thrashed he was simply not strong enough to throw off four people.

"Let me go!" he snarled, his legs flying erratically. He was certain he'd caught someone in the groin, and he kept fighting as they pinning him to the icy cobbles. His hair pooled around his head, dark and wild. A boot slammed against his stomach, and he made a short choking noise. Levi was used to being beatem up. He was a child who had spent his early childhood digging through garbage cans and stealing scraps while lodging under awnings and crouching under porches. He had been beaten with fists, with the blunt end of guns, with belts and chains, with wooden spoons. He'd been beaten into the ground, and spat upon too many times, and his suffering only was prolonged.

Levi didn't scream or whimper when they continued to kick and punch him, his teeth colliding with knuckles and blood spewing from his mouth and nose, choking his senses. He'd been beaten before, and he would be beaten again. This was nothing new. It was just a part of his perfunctory life, his disgusting excuse for an existence. At birth he had been abandoned, and now he lived his life as an unwanted speck of filth. That was the way of the world, wasn't it?

By the time they were done beating him to a pulp, his mouth was too swollen to spit a bitter, "Fuck you," to his assailants. Instead he glared with all his might, his eyes barely holding open as his head pounded viciously from the various blows thrown upon it. He could not hear Nikel's laughter as he wiped his bloody grin, and held up Levi's large boots by the laces. His ears were ringing, and there was the whistle of winter wind biting at his senses. He was kicked onto his back one last time for good measure, and he coughed blood into the air.

He sat up when they were gone. His feet were bare, and his sight was impaired, hazy and red from blood smeared all across his face. His mouth tasted acrid, of blood and dirt and torn skin. He clutched his aching ribs, breathing heavily as he tried to push himself to his feet. It was getting too dark to be alone in an alley. Especially in his condition.

Levi struggled onto wobbly legs, feeling his way to a wall and digging his fingers into the brick. He was scared. There was undeniable fright inside of him as he staggered into the darkened streets, blood spilling warmly against his numb lips. Gusts of icy wind sliced against him, and his bare feet stuck to the freezing street until they were numb too. He was stunned with how mortal he felt. The last time he had ever felt so incredibly fragile was when he had still been living off the streets. And that was a long faded memory, distant and hazy. He'd lived at the orphanage for so long, it was strange and surreal to think that he used to live every night in absolute terror. And he'd been so young too; he just couldn't fathom how he'd done it.

He didn't even bother getting all the way to the door when he reached the orphanage. He merely plopped his ass down on a step, propped himself against the wrought iron rail, and he let himself slip out of consciousness. He only awoke when Erwin shook him, his face a floating white blur in the dimness of the chilly winter night. There was frost sticking to Levi's hair.

"What happened?" Erwin gasped, his breath misting against Levi's face.

Levi couldn't speak. He merely winced, and shrugged. He reached blindly, and clutched at the fabric of Erwin's jacket desperately as he fumbled to move his legs. Dried blood was crusted against his nose and mouth, and every gulp of air he took was a harsh pang of pain through his lungs. He felt dizzy as Erwin helped him to his feet.

"You're not okay at all," Erwin said as Levi's head lolled, collapsing against Erwin's arm. "I'm so sorry, I should have come home sooner."

Levi could only grip Erwin tighter, and think to himself, Like that'd help, bastard.

Erwin took him to the bathroom immediately upon entering the orphanage, and after sitting Levi down on the toilet he began to ask him questions. It puzzled Levi to no end, and his head was buzzing to the point where he felt like he was going to puke. He groaned, his head collapsing in numb fingers.

"Loud," Levi mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Bright."

"Levi." Erwin snapped his fingers next to Levi's ear, and he jumped in shock. "Listen. I just need you to answer me, okay? So I know you're not concussed."

"Con-what?"

"What's my name?"

"Uh," Levi's brow furrowed, and he squinted through his swollen eyelids. "Erwin?"

Erwin smiled through the glare of light. "Good," he said. "How old are you?"

"Ten."

"Good," Erwin said. "What's your last name?"

Levi scowled. "I don't have a last name you shitfaced—"

"Okay, okay," Erwin said, raising his hands into the air. "I get it."

"Bastard." Levi's teeth hurt. "Prick."

"Open your mouth," Erwin said, bending onto his knees to peer at Levi's face. "I want to see if any of your teeth are broken."

"Fuck." The idea of it made him wince, but he opened his mouth anyway.

"Smile."

Levi's lips were too numb. "I don't think I can."

"Try."

He let his muscles pull, and his red teeth were bared for Erwin to see. The pain that shot through his skull was blinding.

"Well," Erwin said, "that's terrifying."

"Shut up."

"Good news," Erwin said, "your teeth are all good."

"They don't feel it."

Erwin shrugged. "Bad news." Erwin pinched Levi's nose, and Levi recoiled immediately, the back of his head smacking hard against the wall behind him.

"Ow!" Levi cried, clutching his head. "Shit!"

"Your nose is broken," Erwin said.

"No shit!"

"Shh," Erwin whispered. "Okay, lemme see—"

"Did you just say lemme?"

"Shh!" Erwin lifted Levi's chin, moving his head from side to side. "Doesn't look like anything else is bad. What hurts?"

"Everything."

"Cute." Erwin dropped Levi's chin. "I mean your bones. Your arms and legs are fine, right?"

"Yeah…" Levi sniffed, wiping the crusted blood off his nose. "My ribs hurt a little."

"Which ones?"

"I'm not telling," Levi said, grimacing. "You'll just poke and prod at me till I scream—"

"That's not what I'm doing at all!"

"Yeah?" Levi shoved Erwin back. "Then stop touching me, you prissy bast—"

The door burst open, and both Levi and Erwin jumped to their feet. A wave of vertigo hit Levi hard, and he stumbled, grabbing Erwin's arm for support. Miss Harmon stood before them with her eyes ablaze with fury.

"What the hell is going on in here?" she snapped, tying up her robe as she looked between the two of them. Her eyes fell on Levi's face. "Goodness, Levi!"

"I'm fine," Levi stated immediately. All of his words were muffled by the swell of his lips.

"He's lying," Erwin said. "His nose, and possibly some of his ribs, are broken."

"Where have you two been?" Miss Harmon asked, hurrying into the bathroom to grasp Levi's face, tilting it up so she could properly look at it. He felt wholly mortified, and he wriggled a little with discomfort. "Levi, I can barely even see your face, there's so much blood."

"I'm sure the world is rejoicing," Levi snapped.

"Tell me what happened," Miss Harmon said. "Now."

"I got beaten up," Levi said. "It's not new."

"Where were you two?"

"I…" Erwin looked down at Levi, and he took a deep breath. "I—"

"He went out looking for me," Levi said. He wiped at his nose, and wince at the pain. Flakes of dried blood dusted across his knuckles. "I passed out in an alley, so… he came to find me."

Erwin stared down at him, but his face was impossible to read.

"Erwin?" Miss Harmon asked.

"Yes?" Erwin responded weakly.

"Is this true?"

Erwin nodded. "Yes," he said, lying easily. "I was very worried."

"Why didn't you come to me?"

"I didn't want to get Levi into trouble." Erwin stood up straighter. "I'm sorry. That was wrong of me, I should have gone to you right away when I sensed something was wrong."

Levi turned his face away, stifling a smile. Manipulative bastard, he thought. He couldn't help but admire his charisma. Levi could never twist Miss Harmon so effortlessly.

"All right, Erwin," Miss Harmon sighed. "Go to bed."

"What?" Erwin asked. He looked down at Levi. "But—"

"Levi needs to take a bath," Miss Harmon said. "God forbid he catches the plague that's been going around."

"That's still a thing?" Levi asked. That was news to him. He thought the disease had died out months ago.

"Yes," Miss Harmon said, "and it's still very deadly. Have you been washing your hands?"

"Always," Levi stated dryly. His head hurt. His ribs hurt. All he wanted was to sleep.

"I thought there was a cure for the plague," Erwin said distantly.

"There is," Miss Harmon said, yanking Levi by the arm. "But common folk like us can't afford it."

Erwin said nothing. He stared at Levi, and then he shrugged, leaving the room without another word.

And thus was the most traumatic bath of Levi's young life.

Levi knew it was stupid to go outside without shoes on— especially with the newly fallen snow. But Levi had promised Henri he'd come visit him later in the week, and visit he did. He walked from the orphanage to Henri's home, baring the icy ground without complaint. It wasn't so hard to ignore once his toes went numb. And besides, Miss Harmon promised to get him new shoes soon.

Levi knocked at the door, eager to get out of the cold. He hopped from foot to foot, breathing warmth into his icy fingers. There was no answer.

"Henri!" Levi called. He hopped off the porch, twisting around the rail to peer up into a low window. He rapped at the frosty glass gently, his eyes flickering. It looked as if no one was home. "Hey, Henri!"

The door creaked open. Levi smiled a little, and he grabbed hold of the railing, heaving himself over it and dropping himself easily before the door. Henri stood there, small and frail looking. The last time Levi had seen him, the child had looked sick. Now he looked like a propped up corpse. His skin was waxy, and his hair stuck to his face limply as he stared at Levi with hollow eyes. There was blood and vomit crusted onto his lips.

Levi's smile fell into a horrified gape.

"Le…vi?" Henri breathed. His voice was reedy and thin, drifting into the air and grasping onto nothing as it faded fast.

"Yeah," Levi said, his eyes widening. "Yeah, I'm here. Let's… let's go find a doctor. Come on." Levi held out his hand, but Henri merely stared up at him with gauzy eyes drooping.

"Levi," he whispered. His voice shook. "They won't wake up, Levi. They won't."

Levi felt Henri's words hit him like a blade through his spine. He stood for a moment in utter shock.

"Show me," Levi said. His hand was still extended, and Henri took it shakily. It was cold and clammy.

Henri took Levi to a bedroom, where his adoptive parents laid in a bed of blood and sick. Levi didn't need to check that they were dead, but he left Henri's side to do it anyway. He went to the woman's side first, lifting his shirt to his nose to avoid the intermingled smell of vomit and blood and death. Her eyes were open, and her mouth was parted in its last cough.

Levi jumped when a cough smashed through the silence of the room. A body hit the floor with such force, the doorframe shook, and Levi ran to Henri's side. He'd fallen onto his knees, coughing into his hands with wide, terrified eyes. The cough sounded more like glass shattering inside the boy's throat, and he lowered his hands, rivulets of blood slithering down his chin.

"Hey," Levi said quietly, fearful to touch the sick child. "Get up. Let's get you to a doctor, okay? You'll be okay."

There were tears in Henri's eyes as he slumped forward, his head falling against Levi's chest. He began to shake, his frail body trembling against the strain of a cough that spilled across his lips, splattering Levi's chest bright red. And then he began to sob. He grasped Levi's arms, clinging to him with a frightening amount of strength, and he sobbed helplessly into Levi's chest. There was nothing that could be done. Levi stared and felt his own body begin to quake from fear and horror, his eyes stinging with tears as the dying child screamed and clutched at him.

"Shh," Levi said weakly. "It's… it's okay, shh…"

Henri's body seemed to give out after one last cough sliced against the air. He crumpled, and Levi caught his tiny body, laying his small head in his lap. His eyes were still open, his parted lips sucking greedily for a little air, just a little bit more air. Tears clung to his cheeks in poison trails, and blood was still expelling from his lips.

"Levi," the boy said, "I… I want…" Fresh tears pooled in his eyes, and his lips trembled.

"What do you want?" Levi asked, grasping Henri's bloody hand. "Tell me. I'll get it."

"Home…" His eyes drooped, and in that moment he looked even younger than five, he looked like a wane little toddler staring up into a great abyss.

Levi's stomach lurched. "Home," Levi whispered. "Yeah. I'll take you home. We'll go once you rest, okay? Just hold on…"

Henri's tiny corpse did not respond. Levi couldn't. He couldn't even grasp the enormity of what had just happened. He just stared and stared and stared, bile stinging his throat, and he squeezed the small, red hand of the boy hopelessly. He found himself shaking his head.

"No," he said. He dropped Henri's hand, and he skittered across the floor, trying to put as much distance between him and the body as possible. He could feel his bones trembling, and his ribs still hurt from the beating he'd received earlier in the week. It didn't matter. He breathed heavily, his eyes burning with angry tears. "No, no, no…"

He clapped his hands over his mouth to stifle a sob, but all he got as a mouthful of blood.

His eyes widened.

Oh no, he thought numbly. He pulled his hands back, and stared at them. They were both reddened with Henri's contaminated blood.

He lurched to his feet, running to the nearest sink and flinging his hands under the faucet. He scrubbed for as long as he could, and in his horror he buckled, vomit spilling from his lips and mixing with the blood staining his mouth. He gripped the sink with white knuckles as he slumped, his sweaty forehead pressing against the cool porcelain.

There was a terrible fear that gnawed at his chest as he realized his fatal error. If he had been smart, he wouldn't have gone near Henri. If he had been smart, he would have just left the child alone the moment he realized how sick he truly was. But no. Levi could never be so heartless, not to any family of his.

And his reward for his empathy?

A grave.

He knew from the moment he began coughing that he was doomed. He washed his hands often in the next few days, and though no one knew that Levi had been around the plagued corpses, it would soon become apparent. He grew very quiet, very distant, and he refused to go outside. Erwin was barely around, so how could he be worried? Miss Harmon wrote it off as a cold from not wearing shoes, so she allowed him to stay in, and gave him a little extra soup, and admonished him for his carelessness.

He scratched at his knuckles until they bled, and each cough strangled him worse and worse. He was holding in his sickness like the most deadly of secrets, and he carefully avoided physical contact with anyone and everyone. Unfortunately for him, the sickness burned through him fast. And soon there was no denying what ailed him.

"Miss Harmon!" Trudy called from the bathroom door. "Levi's throwing up again!"

He was slumped against the bathtub, his breathing shallow and erratic. Bile was clawing up his throat, and his stomach tied itself into a thousand knots and curled around his lungs, constricting his breath.

"What's happening?" Erwin's voice drifted into the bathroom, and he poked his head in curiously. Levi could not see him past the faint outline of his face. "Levi…?"

"He's been sick all week," Trudy sighed. "There's nothing creepier than Levi being quiet."

A cough built inside his chest, parading through him like a battalion of soldiers stomping against his lungs. It burst from his lips sharply, agonizingly, slicing against his throat without mercy and sending him lurching onto his hands and knees as his body wracked. Blood spattered against the floor without him even realizing it, and his tongue burnt with the bitterness of it.

He felt Erwin's hand on his back, and Levi jolted. He smacked Erwin's arm away, crashing onto his side and curling into a ball as he rasped, his eyes wide as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"D-don't—" he coughed, "touch…"

Erwin's face floated above him, swimming in a sea of tears. It was hard and unyielding.

"How long has he been like this?" Erwin asked.

"He wasn't this bad this morning," Trudy said weakly. "Miss Harmon!"

"It's no use." Erwin turned toward the door. "He's going to die."

"What?" Trudy asked. Her voice was soft, and it bled into Levi's mind, corrupting and maiming and ensnaring. He was sickened by her, and by Erwin, and by everyone. He just wanted to be left alone.

"He'll die," Erwin said. It was strange, hearing it spoken aloud. Levi had known from the start what was going to happen, but even so. It hurt. He didn't want to die. "Unless..."

"Unless?" Trudy's voice heightened in terror. "Erwin! Can't we save him? Come on!"

"There's a cure," Erwin said hesitantly.

"Then let's get it!"

Their voices were nothing but a haze now. Levi coughed weakly.

"It's not that simple…"

"It's gotta be!"

Erwin paused. And then, he took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "I'll see what I can do."

"You better!" Trudy sounded strangely furious. "If he dies, it's on you."

"I understand."

He left without another word, and Levi tried to sit up, but he couldn't quite get his arms to work. He heard Trudy scream one more time as he toppled over, his head smacking hard against the floor.

Everything that happened next was a distant blur of pain. He was in and out of consciousness, awakening in a cold sweat with sheets plastered to his body, or shivering so badly that he bit his tongue. He was fumbling for his senses, coughing and blinking blindly at the ceiling, hoping for some kind of salvation. He was terrified of his sickness, and he was terrified of himself. He woke up in tears more often than not.

He greedily accepted any water given to him, despite knowing it would probably not stay down. Levi was hovering between life and death, half a corpse already as he rotted away in a bed, coughing and twisting and fighting off nightmares. There was a veil over his senses, and he wanted to fight it so badly, but he couldn't. There was something surreal about his affliction, and he was caught in a web of feverish dreams and blazing nightmares. This is hell, he thought, it must be hell.

"Levi."

The voice was distant. It licked through his head, snarling through him like a volley of flames.

"No," Levi rasped, a steady hand cupping his head. Blood splashed against the air. He felt a bowl press to his lips, and he twisted blindly, fighting for nothing and everything. "No, stop…"

The struggle was in vain. He clawed at the arms that tried to feed him, grasping wildly and hopelessly. Tears stung inside his eyes. "G-get away…"

Paste hit his tongue, acrid and he nearly choked on the thick consistency of it. It was acrid and warm, sliding against his throat slowly and burning his senses. His fingers flew out, scraping against skin as he fought against the gagging sensation. Levi blinked as he swallowed, his eyes widening and he couldn't breathe or think or feel. Tears were slipping freely against his wane cheeks.

He stopped struggling. He stared up at Erwin Smith with shock in his eyes, and blinked rapidly as he swallowed up the rest of the medicine. It was thick and pasty, and it didn't go down easily, but he managed it somehow. He lay in his bed, a little stunned, and he coughed a little. Blood stung against his tongue, mingling with the acidity of the paste.

"You're going to live," Erwin whispered. He pressed his hand to Levi's hair, and for a moment he smiled warmly. "You have to live, you here me?"

Levi's eyes searched his face. His chest was aching, and his breathing was heavy, and he felt frail and idiotic. But even so, the corners of his lips twitched up ever so slight.

"Okay…" he breathed, closing his eyes. "Okay…"

And live he did. Within a few days, Levi's symptoms faded, and his recovery began. He'd lost a lot of weight, and a lot of interest. He didn't want to race Klaus anymore, or fistfight, or read. He sort of just wandered around day in and day out, feeling a little lost and jittery. He was haunted by Henri, and by the sickness that had bled him dry.

Erwin dropped the book of fairy tales onto his bed one evening.

Levi sat up reluctantly, as he'd been trying to sleep, and he squinted at Erwin's face. "What?" he asked, rubbing his at his eyes groggily. "What the hell do you want?"

"I wanted," Erwin said, folding his arms across his chest, "to say happy birthday."

"Oh." Levi blinked up at the ceiling, and frowned. "Was that today?"

"Yes, Levi," Erwin sighed. "That was today."

"You know it's not the actual date of my birth, right?" Levi asked. "It's just the day Miss Harmon took me in."

"Who cares?" Erwin sat down on Levi's bed, smiling at him gently. "It's still a special day. You should be more attentive to it."

"Mm…" Levi plucked up the book, and as he did so he noticed Erwin had rolled up his sleeves. He paused to stare at the rope burns, as he tended to do when Erwin's arms were bare. "Hey, Erwin…"

Erwin followed Levi's gaze, and he actually rolled his eyes. "If I tell you," Erwin said, "will you stop being so weird about them?"

"Yes," Levi said immediately.

That caused Erwin's face to fall. He looked a little uncertain, and he rubbed at his wrists. The scars were fading, and would likely be gone within a few years, but they were still rather prominent to Levi.

"Well…" Erwin pressed his lips together, and he pulled his legs onto Levi's bed. He looked around anxiously, and leaned closer to Levi. "You can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay." Levi watched Erwin's face. He looked like a nervous child, much like the boy Levi had first met. "Who tied you up?"

Erwin was very quiet. His body seemed to be froze as he stared at Levi, but saw right through him, his eyes boring into the wall behind him. There was not a breath that could be heard, and Erwin anxiously rubbed circles around his fading scars.

"My father," Erwin said finally. The words were a whisper, a strange and horrified secret that slipped from his lips as if poisoned. His eyes were a little wide, as if the words scared him.

To Levi, it meant nothing. "Why?" he asked curiously.

Erwin averted his gaze. Slowly and tremulously, a smile came to his lips. "I don't know," he admitted. "I… I never asked."

"What'd he do?" Levi asked. "After he tied you up?"

Erwin sighed. He glanced at the entryway, and then at Levi. "Hold on," he said. He lifted his hands to the buttons of his shirt, and slowly began to undo them. Before he even opened the shirt, Levi began to understand. White scars glowed against Erwin's abdomen, jagged and rising like small mountain ranges across his ribs.

"Holy shit," Levi blurted, whistling a little. "And I thought I've had my share of beatings."

Erwin smiled placidly. "Maybe I shouldn't show you my back, then," Erwin said.

"No way," Levi said. "He whipped you? I mean, I've gotten whipped, sure, but…"

Erwin shrugged, and he dropped the shirt a little bit as he twisted around. The scars on his back were something unreal. A massive canvas of overlapping strokes, twisted and bright against shoulder blades and spine, broadening across his shoulders in a feverish carving. And then Levi realized, with a horror, that there was an actual design to the awful scars.

"Are those wings?"

Erwin shrugged again. "Maybe?" He pulled up his shirt, buttoning it back up. "I never asked."

"That's fucked up."

Erwin somehow laughed. "How eloquently put," Erwin said. "But yeah, it's fucked up."

"And he just did this shit… just to do it?" Levi felt a little guilty for broaching the topic, but he couldn't help it.

"I'm really not sure," Erwin said. "He liked to pretend that it never happened. He acted like he didn't know where the scars came from." Erwin wrung his hands nervously, and he sighed. "I… I don't think he was in his right mind, to be honest."

"What happened to him?" Levi asked.

"He… died." Erwin's body rocked back and forth, and he stared up at the ceiling for a few moments. "He had too much to drink, and drowned himself. Don't ask me why he did that either, because I have no clue."

"That's really… really awful," Levi said quietly.

"It happened," Erwin said. "I'm not too shaken up over it anymore."

Levi stared at him. And then, he held up the book of fairy tales. "Why did you give me this?" he asked suddenly.

"Because I honestly don't think you can read my history text book." Erwin smiled, and he laughed when Levi tried to smack him with the book. "I'm kidding. You could probably read half of the words in it. Maybe."

"Why the hell would I want a book of dumb fairy tales?" Levi asked.

"Because," Erwin said, slipping off the bed, "you saw happy endings where there were none. You should have it."

"That's a stupid-ass reason, Erwin."

"Just take the book, and quit complaining."

Levi sighed. "Fine," he said glumly. "Whatever. Thanks for telling me about the scars."

"Thanks for listening."

Levi watched Erwin move slowly out of the room. Beneath the white cotton of his shirt, Levi could see the faint outline of the scars. His lips twisted into a grimace, and he tossed the book too the foot of his bed, flopping onto his back.

"Asshole," he grumbled, flipping onto his side, his back turned to Erwin's retreating figure.

Levi ended up reading the fairy tales anyway. He struggled at first, without Erwin there to guide him, but eventually he got the hang of it. He began to head up onto the roof at night to read by starlight, because that was really the only time the other children didn't tease him relentlessly, or ask for him to come play. Didn't they understand that he just did not want to fucking play anything? He was tired, and he was still dazed from his illness. He also had difficulty getting dirty anymore. He struggled to touch anyone whose hands had not been sanitized previously, or go outside without shoes again. He would gladly waste away inside before he got sick again, thank you very much.

"Levi?"

He'd been reading on the roof, squinting at the pages in the darkness, when Erwin's face had appeared over the side of the roof. He heaved himself up, balancing himself conscientiously. Levi looked at him with a dull gaze, and he shook his head, looking back down at his book.

"You're reading." Erwin stood above Levi with his thick eyebrows raised. "Can you even see the words?"

"Yes, I can see the damn words. Why would I stare at a page I couldn't see, idiot?"

"Calm down," Erwin sighed, crouching beside him. He looked up. "Whoa. It's really clear."

"Yes," Levi said, "the sky tends to be when there aren't any big-ass clouds blocking it."

"You have no people skills," Erwin sighed. "Just agree and say the sky looks pretty. Is that so hard?"

"Yeah."

Erwin smiled in disbelief. "Hopeless," he chuckled. "You are absolutely hopeless."

"Is there a reason why you're up here?" Levi asked. He looked up at the sky, and he found his shoulders slumping. The great expanse of darkness was dotted with a sprinkle of glimmering lights, twinkling vaguely and trailing across the blanket of blackness. He could feel the warmth of them, despite the heavy weighing distance.

"I saw you," Erwin said. "I wanted to know what was going on."

"Just me," Levi said. "And this dumb book. Which I hate."

"Which is why you read it."

"Yes, exactly."

"You are singularly the strangest person I have ever met, Levi," Erwin said, ruffling Levi's hair.

"If you do that again," Levi said, his eyes flashing dangerously, "I'll push you off this roof and be the last person you ever meet."

"Fair enough."

Erwin sat himself down beside Levi, looking pensive as he tilted his head back toward the stars. Levi felt his exhaustion as it leaked from his body, pouring from the tension in his muscles and face. When did he start looking so old? Levi found himself thinking. There was a bitterness to the revelation that Erwin was getting older. And so was Levi. He didn't want to admit that he was scared of what that meant for him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Levi blinked up at Erwin's face. "What?" he asked.

"You've got this funny look on your face," Erwin said.

"I don't know how you can even see my face clearly," Levi sighed. He closed his book. "I'm not thinking about anything."

"So," Erwin said, "no different than usual?"

"You really want me to push you, don't you?"

Erwin laughed. "I'm kidding," he said, smiling easily. Levi had a nagging feeling that he was putting on an act.

"What are you thinking?" he asked sharply.

"Oh," Erwin said. "Well, I'm thinking about the stars."

"Really?" Levi frowned. "They're just stars."

"I've read some great books about them," Erwin said, his eyes brightening up considerably. "The stars are really wonderful! The world is such a vast place… and so much bigger than what these tiny walls deceive."

"I didn't know you were so passionate about the outside world."

Erwin pulled his knees up to his chest, and he sighed. "I've always been interested. I just never tell anyone about it because it's not something most people are interested in."

"It's also frowned upon." Levi smirked against the early spring wind. "You're a full blown heretic, aren't you?"

"I've said nothing blasphemous, have I?" Erwin picked at the shingles of the roof idly. "I only stated a fact. There is a world beyond the walls. And I believe it's much bigger than our human minds can properly conceive."

"Okay, put those big damn words back into your pocket," Levi said, rolling his eyes. "Simpler terms, Erwin."

"I just mean," Erwin said, "that I'm only telling the truth, and that there's no telling how big the world actually is until someone goes and explores it."

"The people who have tried just ended up titan food," Levi reminded.

"And what if there were no titans?" Erwin wondered aloud, laying himself back against the slope of the roof. He watched the stars with a glow in his eyes Levi had never seen before. "What if, by some miracle, we were free? Then we could explore this world. See just how big it truly is."

"It sounds like suicide."

"Maybe it is," Erwin said. His pale face was lit by the glow of his eyes and the shimmer of stars. "Maybe it's crazy. But it's a nice bit of hope, isn't it? Even if it's a silly dream, there's still hope to it."

"Yeah," Levi said distantly, not truly understanding. "Maybe."

Clouds melted across the wide expanse of sky, and the illusion of the mysterious, vast world waiting for them was lost very suddenly. There was no retrieving the lost revere, and there was no salvaging their broken impressions of the world at hand. It had never occurred to Levi before that he was trapped. But now that he explored this new thought, he realized it was true. They were stuck inside stone walls with no inkling of what lay beyond for them. And that was truly terrifying. And stunning.

In late spring, Erwin was called to sort out various legal affairs to do with his father's death. He was finally deemed old enough to properly deal with the complications of being orphaned, and so he left that morning with an uncertain disposition.

"It's not like they're going to ask you about his death, or some shit like that," Levi said, frowning up at Erwin as he waited for a carriage to pick him up. He'd be gone the entire day, and though he'd promised to be home before dark, Levi didn't count on it.

"It's not that," Erwin said slowly. He looked around nervously, his body rigid in fear. "Levi, I need you to promise me something."

"Yeah?"

Erwin turned to face him. His face was hard, and his eyes were firm and cold. "Be careful," Erwin said, his voice brisk and almost reprimanding. He stared at Levi for a very long time, and it was clear in the way his mouth parted that he had much more to say. But the carriage pulled up, and Erwin was left to stare intensely at Levi's face.

"Yeah, whatever," Levi said. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned away. "Have fun."

"I'm serious—!"

"I'm not going to get into any trouble, okay?" Levi shook his head, and waved back at Erwin. "I'll be fine."

He walked home without bothering to look back. He'd see Erwin whenever he returned, and that was fine. Until then he could find a nice, quiet place to read. Or maybe he'd actually play with the other children for once. Yes, that sounded nice. Not that he was sure about racing Klaus or anything like that, but it would be nice.

"Hey, grumpy-face," Trudy giggled as he made his way up the road to the orphanage. The majority of the kids were playing ball in the street. "Is Erwin gone, then?"

"Yeah." Levi shrugged. "He'll be back later."

"He's so busy," Trudy whined, pouting a little. "It's not fair. He should come play with us more often."

"You both should," Hilde piped up, kicking the ball to Levi's feet. The girl smiled warmly. "It's nice to see you outside, Levi."

"Yes," Rosie agreed. "It's nice to see you active."

"I'm sorry," Levi said earnestly. "I just don't feel up to games."

"You can watch," Klaus offered, appearing at Trudy's side. He had a goofy smile on his face. "I mean, if you don't want to play. I'm just glad, y'know, that you ain't cooped up in the house. You're too quiet, man."

"I'm only quiet because I've got nothin' to say to your ugly pig face, Klaus."

"There we go!" Klaus chirped, clapping Levi's shoulder. He was taller than Levi now, which was odd. "That's the Levi we love."

"Don't touch me."

"Oops." Klaus looked a little sheepish as he released Levi. "Sorry."

Trudy prodded Levi's side, and he glared at her. "You've gotten really skinny!" Trudy gasped, pinching his ribs. "It's kinda gross."

He shoved her very hard. "Don't think I won't beat the shit out of you," Levi said in a low voice. "Because I'm more than willing to skull drag you from here to Wall Maria."

"Whoa," Trudy whistled. She held up her arms, and giggled. "So scary!"

"Aw, quit it, Trudy," Lynette said, her plump face appearing beside Trudy's. "You're so mean to him."

"Why am I the mean one?" Trudy asked, giving a huff of exasperation. "Levi's plenty mean too!"

"Yeah, but Levi's only mean because you provoke him," Hilde pointed out.

"Yes," Rosie agreed. She had cut her hair very short in comparison to Hilde's likely to place a decent amount of difference in their features. Even so, the twins looked uncannily similar, and it was difficult to remember which one was which. "You are mean because you want to be. Levi is mean because he is defending himself."

"Levi's not an angel, you know!" Trudy cried, waving her arms around as she whined. Klaus laughed beside her, and the rest of the children began to crowd around. Without Erwin and Henri, there were still nine children in all. Nine very raggedy, very underfed children. But what could be done?

"Come on," Klaus said, kicking the ball to Levi's feet. Levi stared at it blankly. "Try one game."

"I told you I'm not feeling up to playing dumb games." Levi kicked the ball back to Klaus, and he turned toward the door. He felt a vacancy crawling inside him. It was beginning to fill up with a silly sort of warmth. He paused at the door, and he looked up. He blinked rapidly at the crevices inlaid into the wood, and his body began to loosen. "But, I mean…" He struggled to find the words that would suit him. "If you really want me around, maybe later I can read to you guys?"

"You know how to read?" Klaus blurted.

Trudy snorted in disbelief. "Since when?"

"Do you want me to read you a damn story, or not, shitface?" Levi snapped at her.

"Fine!" she laughed, flinging her arms into the air. "I'm sure this'll be good!"

"Shut up, Trudy," Doug said quietly. "Erwin taught him."

Levi didn't ask how Douglas knew that. He went inside alone, resting his back against the door and staring into the entryway with furrowed eyebrows. It was difficult, but he was beginning to accept what had happened. To Henri, to him. Did I ever thank Erwin for saving me? he wondered. There was no certainty to it. After all, he had been very lost in his own thoughts since recovering from the illness that almost claimed his life.

As Levi was washing his hands, Miss Harmon poked her head into the bathroom.

"Oh," she sighed, tucking a strand of wiry gray hair behind her ear. "There you are. Erwin's gone, then?"

"Yeah," Levi said. He scrubbed at his knuckles, and he shrugged. "He said he'd be back tonight."

"That boy is never around, is he?" Miss Harmon shook her head, and she rested her shoulder against the doorframe as she watched Levi scrub. "You two are close, aren't you?"

"Uh," Levi said, pausing in his efforts to eradicate the scum from beneath his fingernails. "I dunno. Sure."

"So…" Miss Harmon sighed, and Levi listened to her with bated breath. He knew Miss Harmon could be very nurturing, but he was so used to her caustic personality it often stunned him. "What has he told you?"

Levi flicked off the faucet, and he spun to face the woman. His face was impassive, but his insides were twisting. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"Did he tell you why he's here?" Miss Harmon asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Levi said. "His dad died. I mean, why else would he end up in a shitty orphanage— no offense."

"None taken," Miss Harmon said, her lips tightening into a hard line. "Mind your mouth, Levi."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did he tell you how his father died?" Miss Harmon asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Levi said, scratching absently at the pallid skin of his knuckles. "But I'm not sure if—"

"I know," Miss Harmon said. "I know everything. I just wanted to clarify, before speaking with you about it."

Levi stared at the woman, and he looked down at his hands. Suddenly they felt very dirty, and he couldn't place why. So he merely scratched at them harder. "Oh," he said faintly. "What… about it?"

"Well for starters," Miss Harmon said, "does he seem all right to you?"

"Yeah…?" Levi bit his lip. He didn't like this at all. "He's fine. Why?"

"Going through his father's things will be a trial," Miss Harmon said softly. "For a boy who suffered such heavy abuse, I'm just worried. I think someone should have gone with him."

"I would have," Levi said, "if he asked. But he didn't. He wanted to be alone, and I don't blame him."

Miss Harmon sighed, and she looked almost reluctant to broach upon the topic. "You don't find him strange, do you?" Miss Harmon asked. Levi's eyebrows rose. "I mean, you don't find it odd that he's so distant?"

"He likes being alone," Levi said, shifting with discomfort.

"I know," Miss Harmon said, "and that's what concerns me."

"What is this really about?" Levi asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I just find it strange," Miss Harmon said. "He said he got a job, and I trusted that. He seems like an honest boy. He even bought your shoes, Levi."

Levi looked down at the new boots, which were firm soled and comfortable. So unlike the awful oversized scum-collectors his last pair had been.

"So…?" Levi asked. He knew where this was going, and he didn't like it.

"So," Miss Harmon said, "I need to know where he's actually getting the money. I refused to take the money when he first approached me about it, but I've only just found out… He feeds money into the Orphanage's account monthly."

"Wow, really?" Levi wasn't really listening anymore. "That's nice."

"Isn't it?" Miss Harmon shook her head furiously. "That boy might have good intent, but I won't stand for the devil's work funding this orphanage."

"Devil's work?" Levi repeated, scoffing. "Erwin's… he wouldn't be doing anything terrible, he's too damn nice."

"Don't get me wrong," Miss Harmon said. "I love Erwin. He's very sweet, and I'm definitely indebted to him now, but… I can't let whatever is going on happen any longer."

"Nothing is happening," Levi said instinctively. And he wanted to believe it so desperately it hurt. Why couldn't Erwin just stop whatever… whatever the fuck he was really doing? Levi scratched at his knuckles thoughtlessly, his eyes darting away from Miss Harmon's face.

"I know you're lying," she said. "I don't know why, but I know you are. Levi— Levi, you're bleeding!"

Levi had scraped his fingernails too hard against his peeling knuckles, and he blinked as a little blood pooled around the stinging flesh, coagulating in crevices of skin. He whirled around, shoving his hands beneath his faucet and flinging the water on. The pressure was aching, and it felt as though his bones were bending backwards as he scrubbed at his hands with a mechanical fury. He needed to get them clean, he needed to get the blood off, he needed to—!

"Levi!" Miss Harmon cried, grabbing his wrists. There were tears stinging his eyes when she pulled his hands from the bursting cascade that burned his bleeding knuckles, and she forced him to look her in the eye. She slowly slipped into a kneeling position, her wizened hands grasping the burgeoning redness that trailed across his tiny ones. "Oh, Levi… I'm so sorry."

"What?" His eyes flashed wide, and he yanked at his arms, feeling stupid and ashamed. "Why?"

"I knew there was something bothering you," Miss Harmon said, "but I thought it would fade, I never thought that…"

"That what?" His eyes stung with tears, and his face was flushed and burning. "Let me go!" He yanked back, and he stumbled as Miss Harmon released him. Blood was slick on her fingers and his own, so he ran back to the sink. The bite of the water against the exposed cuts hurt in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.

Miss Harmon waited patiently as the tears overwhelmed him, and a sob bubbled up inside his chest, tearing from his mouth. He didn't know what had brought this onslaught of emotional turmoil, but he was so afraid and so angry and so ashamed, he felt as though the sobs were morph into a sickness. His sobs were stifled by his hands clapping against his mouth, a motion that made him lurch in horror, and though the blood had been washed away he could taste it. He could taste the contamination, the death, and he could taste the bile clawing at his throat as he gasped and choked and sobbed.

"Levi," she said when he quieted down. He didn't look at her. He didn't dare. She grasped him by both shoulders, turning him around gently, and he squeezed his eyes shut when she wiped at his tears gingerly with the pad of her thumb. "I don't know what… what exactly it is that is troubling you. But I need you to know that you aren't alone. Okay?"

He couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe properly, but he nodded in spite of himself. Because Levi had no idea what else he could do.

She hugged him then, and he was too stunned to fight it. So instead, he buried his face in her shoulders and let himself be held. Just once.

Later that night, when Levi was calm and all evidence of his breakdown was washed away, he sat on his bed with a book in his lap. The eight other orphans sat around him, listening intently as he read aloud the fairy tales Erwin had entrusted to him. They all looked at him with varying degrees of interest, and they listened without complaint. It was almost unreal. He'd never had such rapt attention put on him, not in such a positive way. And it made him feel a little anxious and exhilarated.

"The tin soldier stood there dressed in flames. He felt a terrible heat, but whether it came from the flames or from his love he didn't know. He'd lost his splendid colors, maybe from his hard journey, maybe from grief, nobody can say." Levi spoke as if in a daze, with his lips moving mechanically, and his eyes trailing across the page with a strange amount of ease. There were no words in this story that were particularly challenging, and so he felt very comfortable reading it aloud. He was being watched by nine pairs of eyes, including those of Miss Harmon who stood in the doorway. She was smiling, he saw, glancing out of the corner of his eye. He smiled back gratefully. "He looked at the little lady, and she looked at him, and he felt himself melting. But still he stood steadfast, with his musket held trim on his shoulder."

"No way," Trudy gasped, bouncing on the edge of Levi's bed. "No way, no way! I thought you said these were fairy tales!"

"They are." Levi pressed his thumb to the line he had left off on, hoping not to lose his place.

"But this is so sad!"

"Someone saves him," Hilde said nervously. "Right?"

"I can finish the story," Levi said. "There's only a paragraph left."

"But I don't wanna know if he dies!" Trudy whined, clapping her hands over her ears and shaking her head. It was very hard to believe that she was older than Levi sometimes, with the way she acted. "Why can't they all be happy?"

"I don't know, Trudy," Levi said earnestly. "I don't think it works like that."

"Of course it does," Trudy sniffed. She wasn't crying, but she looked a little disgruntled. "I hate this story. Tell a happy one."

"Let him finish!" Klaus gasped, elbowing Trudy in the ribs.

"Yeah," Levi teased, closing the book with his thumb stuck between pages, and bonking his foster sister lightly on the head. "Idiot, there's only a paragraph left."

"That hurt…" Trudy pouted, rubbing her head.

"I bet."

"Wimp," Klaus taunted.

Trudy shoved him so hard he fell off the bed and toppled onto the floor, laughing all the way. Levi smiled as the others began to laugh as well, and he flung his pillow at Klaus's face when he tried to get up. Klaus shrieked with dismay as the twins grabbed him by each arm, and two of the younger kids, Riley and Mara flung their arms around his neck, yanking at him. Klaus bellowed, half laughter and half pained, and he wriggled beneath their grasp.

"Get 'im!" Trudy cheered.

Lynette laughed beside Douglas on Erwin's bed, across from Levi's. She clapped her hands amusedly, while Douglas merely managed a meager smile. Perhaps he was too old for the play-wrestling to be amusing. Levi didn't know.

"Okay," Levi said. There was a knock at the door, but Levi ignored it as Miss Harmon disappeared into the foyer. About time, he thought. They were all in their pajamas, preparing to go to bed, and Erwin was more than a little late. "I'm going to finish this damn story if it kills me."

"Get these crazy little shits off me!" Klaus gasped, wincing at the grip of the younger children.

Levi sighed, and he tossed to book onto his bed, letting it fall open to the page he had marked. He stood up, but as he did so a scream ripped through the house. They all froze, the feeling of the scream hitting them hard as they all held their breaths and listened intently. Had that been real? That was the question floating through their minds as they tentatively looked toward the entryway.

"Miss Harmon…?" Lynette said weakly, pushing herself to her feet. Douglas stood up as well. He gestured for Lynette to stay where she was, and he slowly crept toward the entrance. He immediately stopped as another scream split through the house, followed by a stomach lurching thump. Douglas blinked, and took a step back.

Levi didn't understand what was happening until it was too late.

The room was suddenly swarmed with people. Some of them Levi recognized as they broke through windows, their faces half-shadowed, but most of them were strangers. Demons in the night coming to devour them all. Through the entrance of the room, three men came rushing in. Douglas had no time to react as he was tackled to the floor, a knife burying itself to the hilt in his heart.

The screams that ricocheted off the walls were immeasurable. Levi was in a panic, and he was completely frozen in shock and fear and confusion. This couldn't be happening. How could it? It wasn't possible! But there was blood congealing in the crevices of the floorboards, and all around him there were strange men who had knives, and Levi saw one go into Hilde's right eye, and he watched her scream in agony as the knife was yanked out, and then she was grabbed by the hair, her neck exposed and bent to meet the bite of the blade.

Blood burst from her neck into Levi's face. He was standing just beside her. Klaus was still on the ground, his own soft looking face half obscured by splattered blood smeared across it. His mouth was agape, but no sound came out. He looked too stunned. The two younger children, Riley and Mara went scrambling, but a man grabbed Mara and Levi found himself lurching to help but it was too late. He saw the knife protruding from her back as her screams died into strangled rasps, tears welling inside her eyes.

Riley was sobbing. "Get away!" he shrieked, shoving and kicking as he was pinned down. Levi jumped on the man pinning him, his skinny arms locking around the man's neck, but he was thrown off easily. Levi smacked his head against a wrought iron footboard, and he sat dizzily as Trudy grabbed him and yanked at him, screaming something inaudible into his ear.

And then Levi realized why these faces were so familiar.

Elroy Charnell stepped up behind Trudy, and he watched Levi with his eyes glinting as his blade sunk into Trudy's spine. Levi's muscles were locked. His breath was caught. No. No way. It couldn't be real. It was a nightmare, a dream. And yet, Trudy's wide-eyed gaze was suddenly becoming very dim, and she opened her mouth, her lips trembling.

She coughed, and blood sprayed across Levi's face like a sprinkle of red freckles licking at his cheeks.

This isn't... Levi grabbed Trudy's body as she slumped, and he found himself screaming too, calling out names in spite of himself. He dropped Trudy when he saw Klaus, who was running. He was weaving between men, his face streaked with blood and tears, and he met Levi's eye.

"Run!" he cried. There was only silence then, and Levi stood shakily with Elroy Charnell standing before him, Trudy's corpse bleeding at his feet. There were so many of them, and Levi didn't recognize them all, but… there was Nikel Maine, and his friends who had beaten Levi up, and there were others. Others who Levi had seen with Erwin.

Erwin, Levi thought, his eyes widening. He felt sick with the revelation. No way, he can't be a part of this, he's—

"You remember me, don't you?" Elroy asked. Levi lurched forward as Klaus was caught, and Levi's screeching went unnoticed as his foster brother's throat was opened ear to ear. Blood spilt across the floorboards, and there was nothing then. Levi felt cold. He could hear his own heart as it crashed against his ribs, rising up into his throat and crushing his larynx. He couldn't speak or scream anymore. He was shoved backwards into the wrought iron frame of the bed, and he nearly fell onto Trudy's corpse.

"I asked you and Erwin to join us once," Elroy said, holding up his bloody knife. "It's really a shame you didn't join too. None of this would have happened if you had."

Levi was too stunned to shake. He was too shocked the breathe. He stared up at Elroy, and then he looked at the knife.

"But honestly," Elroy continued, giving a haughty smile. "You have Erwin to thank for all this!" He danced around the room with the air of a performer, his eyes still glinting with an evil mischief.

It was all the confirmation Levi needed. He had no senses from that point. Only a clear view of what the facts before him were. These men were evil, and they had destroyed everything Levi had ever loved.

And Erwin was one of these men.

Erwin did this, Levi thought madly, his fists shaking in rage. He did this, he's the reason they're all— He couldn't bring himself to think it. He knew they were all gone, every one of them, because he could see it, feel it, taste it sloshing in his mouth. Death was seeping through the windows and leaking on the floor.

Levi stood up straight. His eyes were wide.

The world seemed so simple all of a sudden.

When Elroy reached for Levi, it was all Levi truly needed. He twisted his arm so fast that the bone snapped beneath Levi's touch, and the man buckled as the knife was yanked from his loosened fingers. Levi stood as tall as he could, and he flicked his wrist as he clutched the blade, his entire body reacting as he kicked Elroy in the groin, and the slashed him across the throat. Blood splashed downward, hitting Levi's face in a hot stream. But he didn't care. He kicked the man aside, clenching the knife tightly as he looked around.

There were so many of them, but it was suddenly all a blur. He was faster then them, and smaller. And he was so much more willing to kill than they were, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. No. Levi would slaughter them. He took each one and put them to the knife like the swine they were. He moved like death sweeping across the room, collecting his reaping of bloodied throats and fading eyes, and he kicked their bodies into a pile in the center of the room.

When he was done he was soaked from head to toe, his eyes and teeth the only indication that he wasn't some blood-caked monster torn from the depths of hell.

Levi slid down the wall in the corner of the room, clutching his knife and heaving deep breaths. His lungs felt as though someone or something was crushing them with hot iron, and he couldn't think clearly. There was buzzing. There was laughter. There was a story of a melting tin soldier searing inside him, and he felt he was the same, bubbling over and bursting as he melted away into oblivion.

There was nothing left of him but hollow eyes and a hollow heart.

Levi never saw Erwin after that. He had never appeared back at the orphanage, and the MPs had stuck Levi with Greta Schatz by default. Schatz had been kind, there was no mistaking it, but Levi had been a terror to live with and he'd hated her for being there. Eventually he learned to live with it, but by then he had moved out and begun to form his own criminal reputation. In the end he wasn't sure if he was any better than Elroy Charnell had been.

Levi awoke with that thought haunting him. He was in a cot, cold sweat causing sheets to stick uncomfortably to his skin. His head was pounding so terribly that he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. His limbs felt awkward, cumbersome, and heavy. He was aching all around, his breath short and his heart pounding. He'd lost sense of where he was. His thoughts were still muddled up in a bloody little corner, staring vacantly ahead until MPs came to ask him a lot of really dumb fucking questions.

He took a deep breath. Had it all been a nightmare? Would he awake at home, on the couch, with Mikasa awake and eager to please him. The thought of Mikasa stung his heart, and he sunk into the cot he was laying in, missing the girl more than he'd ever missed her before. She had always been the perfect distraction when he had a nightmare. She was always a rock for him to latch onto, to make sure he stayed tethered to the world around them. But he had no Mikasa now… right?

The memories of joining the Survey Corps flooded his head in a very sudden, very sharp burst of light. His eyes snapped open, and he choked on the bitter, chilly memory of rain slipping down his cheeks, of a blade against Erwin's throat, of the titan Levi had killed, of the fall that had disoriented him to the point where he could not move.

"Oh, are you awake?"

Levi's blood ran icy in his veins, and his breath hitched painfully inside his throat. He stared up at the ceiling of whatever clinic he was in, focusing solely on the off-white hue and the strange spackled texture. He didn't want to look at Erwin. He didn't want to see the man's smug fucking face, lest Levi beat it in with his bare fists. It was not that Levi was entirely angry— on the contrary, he was exhausted and mostly immobile— but Erwin triggered something inside of him that made him want to destroy everything in order to just end his pitiful excuse for an existence.

"I have a few questions to ask you," Erwin said calmly, as if nothing had happened, as if they were merely acquaintances. "If you don't mind sitting up for me?"

Levi had to take a deep, shuddering breath before he forced himself onto his elbows. It was as far as he could go without his ribs screaming in protest.

"What's your name?" Erwin asked. Levi looked at him sharply, and he saw that Erwin wasn't even looking at him. He was reading a book in his lap, writing on a clipboard as he spoke. The scritch-scratch of the pen was scathing to Levi's ears, which felt clogged with cotton.

"You're shitting me," Levi stated, his voice a startlingly sharp croak.

"Just answer." Erwin did not look up. Instead he continued to write, his eyes moving from his book to the clipboard.

Levi pushed himself upright despite the body wracking pain, and he stared at Erwin with a stare so hard and piercing that it caused the man to pause. He looked up, his bold blue eyes meeting Levi's.

"Levi fucking Ackerman," Levi said.

"I'll assume you did not, in fact, legally change your middle name to 'fucking'," Erwin said placidly, turning his attention back to his clipboard. "Though, knowing you…"

"Shut up." Levi's fists clenched the sheets around him. "What the hell kind of question was that?"

"Just protocol," Erwin said, shrugging. "You've been out for longer than twelve hours, so I'm only checking your cognitive receptors. Basic information."

Levi said nothing. It hadn't even occurred to him that Erwin was just checking if he was okay. It was hard to stomach, and Levi wanted to leave the room so badly that he found himself checking his surroundings for the nearest exits.

"The door is behind me," Erwin said, his ability to read Levi's thoughts uncanny. "There's a window beside the bed, but there's a bit of a drop. Of course, you'd have to get through me to leave."

"I can take you," Levi said in a low, dark voice.

Erwin looked up, and he actually smiled. "Oh," he said, "I don't doubt it. However, I'm your superior, and assaulting me would look even worse for you. You barely scraped freedom with your last stunt, Levi, and I wouldn't suggest pushing it again."

That pushed Levi right over the edge.

"I want to kill you," Levi said. He let his tone slip in a slow, bored cadence. "I hate you so much, and I want you to choke on your filthy blood when I slit your throat."

Erwin sighed. He closed his book, and set it and the clipboard on the ground. He looked very composed for someone whose life was in grave danger. Who the hell are you? Levi wondered. Maybe if Levi ripped him open and tore out his entrails he would find out.

"That's a little barbaric, Levi," Erwin said. "And I would honestly prefer it if I lived, thanks."

"What the hell are you playing at?" Levi snapped, his ribs aching as he lurched forward. Erwin watched him so calmly that Levi looked around for something to hurl at his head. "I want to kill you! I tried to kill you! Am I in prison? Because I should be in fucking prison."

"Calm down," Erwin said, holding up his hand. "Yes, you were a little jittery when we were on the mission. It's not unusual to be scared on your first expedition."

"I wasn't scared, damn it—"

"Yes," Erwin said, his voice sharp, brisk, and commanding. "You were. You were very scared, and you ran away. But obviously in the end you proved yourself quite adept. After all, you took down a titan while concussed."

"I fell off a roof onto my ass."

"I thought the storm would come later," Erwin admitted. "My mistake for not pulling back sooner."

"I still would have tried to kill you," Levi said steadily. "I'm going to keep trying. I don't care. So lock me up now, Erwin, or I swear you'll regret it."

Erwin studied Levi's face as if he was a puzzle he couldn't quite crack. There was a great amount of curiosity there, but also a little bit of wonder. "I know already that you blame me," Erwin said slowly. "I know you jumped to conclusions when I didn't come home that night."

"Shut up." Levi stared ahead of him and he scratched at his knuckles subconsciously. "Don't you dare, you bastard."

"They wouldn't let me see you," Erwin said. Levi couldn't look at him, so instead he looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. But there was nothing around him but a nightstand with Sir Gwaine and the Green Knight on it. And that was a little too precious to soil with Erwin's blood. "I asked, you know. Every day, I kept asking if I could talk to you, but they just said that you weren't stable enough. I didn't realize what that meant until an MP told me that you murdered thirteen people."

"They deserved it," Levi said immediately. It was what he'd always justified to himself when he thought about the people he'd killed.

"Yeah," Erwin said. "Maybe. In all honesty, I was scared to face you after that."

"Because you knew I'd tear that smug look off your face?" Levi asked, looking at him.

"No," Erwin said. He paused, and he shrugged. "Actually, maybe. It was a long time ago, I'm not entirely sure how exactly I felt. But I do know that it was my fault for being part of that awful gang, and I do take full responsibility for what happened."

A confession, Levi thought numbly. He hadn't expected this. "Why?" Levi asked, staring at Erwin's face with a look of pure disdain. "Why kill them all?"

Erwin shook his head. "I've wondered that too," he admitted. Levi stared at him, his jaw clenching in frustration. "I think it was to teach me a lesson. It was a message meant to tell me that bad things happen when you don't pay your debts."

"What debt?" Levi rubbed his head, the feeling of his bandage making him uncomfortable.

Erwin glanced at him, and he leaned back in his seat. His neatly parted hair was falling into his forehead in limp blond clumps. How long has he been sitting here, anyway? Levi honestly didn't want to know.

"I owed the gang a very large debt," Erwin said slowly. "I had them procure something for me I wouldn't have otherwise been able to get my hands on. When it was time for me to repay then, I couldn't give them what they asked for."

"What the hell did you ask for?" Levi asked, slumping a little. His bloodlust was now more like a senseless hum in the back of his head. "Drugs?"

"Yes, actually," Erwin said. "A special drug. That cured a very persistent illness."

Levi's felt stones collapse into his stomach as the weight of his words hit him. Oh, Levi thought, feeling sick. Oh. That's how he did it. Levi had always wondered, but it had never been a thing that had truly pestered him. Not until now. Suddenly it made sense. It was twisted, and it was cruel, but it made sense.

"So…" Levi's mouth felt dry as he spoke. "What… did they want you to give them?"

Erwin sat quietly. He folded his hands in his lap, and he raised his chin higher as he tilted his head ever so slightly. There was a strange resignation to the way he leaned back, his shoulders slumping.

"You," Erwin said.

It didn't register. "Excuse me?"

The silence stretched out for a few moments, and in those few moments it slapped Levi across the face. His eyes widened, and he sat up straighter, his mouth dropping open.

"They thought they could traffic you," Erwin said quietly. It sounded as though he was admitting his deepest darkest secret, and Levi couldn't stand it. He couldn't deal. "Don't ask me what they meant to do with you when they got you. I didn't ask. I told them that they couldn't have you, or any child from the orphanage, and then… well, I left a few days later. They took advantage of that."

"Shit," Levi breathed. He sunk into his bed, and he stared ahead of him vacantly. "Oh." Oh, he thought, Mikasa, we have so much more in common than I ever imagined.

"I'm not sure if it changes how you feel," Erwin said. "If you still want to kill me, tell me now. I'll give you a knife. You can slit my throat, if that's truly what you want." Levi stared at him as he pulled out a small, skinny knife from inside his boot, and held it out to Levi. It was the most stunning sight, and the most horrific. "But you should know, if you kill me there will be consequences. You will be imprisoned, and likely executed. And you will die without ever seeing your daughter again."

That caught Levi's attention. He felt the word daughter as it sent a jolt through him, like a bullet through the heart. Hange always referred to Mikasa as Levi's daughter, but it was always different with her because it was Hange. She got carried away easily. But with Erwin it was like an undisputed fact being spoken. Mikasa was Levi's daughter.

"How the hell," Levi hissed, "do you know about her?"

Erwin blinked. "Is it a touchy subject?" he asked. "I'm sorry. But it's true. You won't see her. You'll die, and she'll be left alone in this world."

Again, Levi thought. He closed his eyes. Now that he was sitting and digesting all the information being fed to him, he knew there was not a chance in the world he'd attempt to kill Erwin again. And though Levi held an undeniable amount of distaste for Erwin Smith, he couldn't help but be awed at his loyalty. If he's telling the truth.

But it was already settled in Levi's mind. His heart was pounding inside his head as he raised his eyes to Erwin's. He took the knife from his palm, and rolled the grip of it between his fingers. "You know," Levi said, his voice carrying an almost lofty quality. "I kept the knife I used to kill those bastards."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Levi peered at the skinny knife, and he gritted his teeth. He twisted his body, a burst of pain crippling him as he stabbed the knife into the bedside table, just beside the faded book the Mikasa had gifted to him. "I gave it to my… daughter." He tested out the word, and spat it out with a strange hesitance. He wasn't sure if he liked it.

"That's a strange gift to give a young girl," Erwin said. He looked amused. "I'm sure a toy sword would have suited her fine."

"How the hell would she defend herself with a toy sword?" Levi asked, wrinkling his nose. "That's just stupid."

"Because the knife you used to murder thirteen people is a more practical gift for a child."

"Do you have any children?" Levi snapped. Erwin looked a little surprised, but said nothing. "Nope, didn't think so. Don't lecture me about things you don't know."

"Fine." Erwin leaned forward, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Does this mean you'll follow me?"

"If I was going to kill you," Levi said, "I would have done it by now."

Erwin smiled wider. It was strange. It was so utterly surreal to… to no longer have a burning sense of hatred inside him at the mere memory of this man. Now all that was left in that space inside him was an empty sort of glaze. A feeling of loss and a foundation for… for forgiveness, or something akin to that. Levi would not kill Erwin, no. But Erwin needed to earn Levi's trust again. That was certain.

An envelope slipped into his lap.

He stared at it, and he saw Mikasa's small, neat handwriting immediately. He shot Erwin a look. "You stole my mail?"

"I was curious," Erwin admitted. "I saw the name Ackerman. Was that her mother's name?"

"She's not my real daughter, Erwin," Levi sighed. "I took her in."

"Ah." Erwin tilted his head. "I was curious about that too. I never imagined you might have a child."

"I didn't plan to adopt," Levi said stiffly. "It just… happened. I don't know."

"You just happened upon an orphaned girl?"

"Something like that." Levi tentatively opened the envelope.

"How sweet of you," Erwin said. "I'm glad to hear you found another family, Levi."

Levi's fingers froze as he withdrew the letter. He stared at it for a long time, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Family," he said, tasting the acidity of the word as it burnt the inside of his mouth, hissing through his teeth.

"Yes," Erwin said. He watched Levi, and he tilted his head, his face looking especially severe as he raised his chin. "I know it might be hard for you to accept, since you so clearly hate me. But I lost my family that night too."

Levi swallowed his anger. No, snapping would not help him. Family, Levi thought bitterly. Mine and yours. But that changes nothing. They're all still dead.

"I'm not going to coddle you, Erwin," Levi said, tearing his letter from its envelope. "But I won't condemn you either."

"Eloquent," Erwin noted, smiling wanely.

"Shut up." Levi unfolded the paper, flattening it out against his knee. Per usual it was very short. He found himself reading the words without truly digesting them. They fluttered vaguely inside his mind before truly taking purchase. And when they did, his entire body coiled with tension. He gripped the corners of the letter, the paper crunching a little under the pressure.

"What is it?" Erwin asked. He had the balls to sound worried.

Levi shook his head. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and forced himself to loosen his muscles, his shoulders slumping. He did not want to talk to Erwin right now. He would prefer it if the man simply left. But Levi understood that things needed to change. He couldn't be a little shit about Erwin's presence if he planned on sticking with the Survey Corps.

He stared into his lap as he offered the letter out to Erwin. He said nothing when Erwin took it, and instead closed his eyes and felt Mikasa's words settling like rocks inside his stomach.

Erwin scanned the letter, and there was a blanket of silence between them as they both seemed to accept the gravity of their situation.

"I'm sorry," Erwin told him, resting the letter beside Levi's leg. He glanced at it, and the words shone, as if the ink was glistening on the page.

Levi, it said. It's been a while, hasn't it? I know you're very busy, but I thought it best to tell you now. By the time you read this letter, I will be part of the 104th Trainee Corps. Though your approval would be appreciated, I understand it's not all that likely. Also, I don't need it. Forgive me if you can.

Mikasa

He had never imagined that this might happen. It had never crossed his mind that Mikasa might follow him into the military. Why would she be so foolish to seek out her own death? How could she be so reckless as to disregard her own life, just to follow him into hell?

They were so alike, and Levi despised it.

"Don't be," Levi said quietly. He took the letter in his hands, and found that they were shaking. "She's a fool."

"We're all fools, then," Erwin observed.

Levi had take a moment to compose himself. He was consumed by guilt, because if he had just stayed with Mikasa, then she would never have even dreamed of joining the military…

"Yeah," Levi said. He folded up the paper, and shoved it back into its envelope. He felt sickened, and suddenly very empty. His head was buzzing with pain. There was a small sting of resentment toward Mikasa, but it faded fast. Yes, Mikasa, he thought, setting the envelope on top of his book. How could I ever forgive you for following me so blindly?

"Is she strong?" Erwin asked. He sounded very distant. Levi wasn't sure if he felt much animosity at all toward him at the moment. He was focused on the thought of Mikasa facing mortal peril regularly.

"Yeah," Levi said. "Pretty strong, I guess."

"And she'll join the Survey Corps, I imagine?"

"Like she'd fucking join the Military Police Brigade," Levi said stiffly. "She hates them just as much as we do."

"I won't sugarcoat it," Erwin said. He looked very grave. "There is a very good chance you will see her die. If you survive long enough to see her don the wings of freedom."

"Oh," Levi said harshly, "don't worry. I'll be alive."

Erwin smiled, and it was small and sad. "I hope so," he said earnestly.

Levi glanced at him. Before he could tell Erwin that he still really kind of hated him, the door burst open behind him. Hange swooped into the room, looking like a madwoman as she grinned broadly, hugging a stack of paper cups in her arm as she held up a bottle of alcohol.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" Hange crooned. Her eyes fell on Erwin, and her enthusiasm only seemed to drop slightly. "Oh! I'm interrupting."

"Nope," Levi said, sitting up straighter. For once, her energy was welcome. As was her alcohol. "You couldn't have better timing. You did say you wanted to see me drunk, right?"

Hange's eyes widened, and she beamed at him. "Yes!" she cried, hopping onto the edge of his bed. Erwin looked reserved, and uncertain.

"Don't drink too much, Levi," Erwin warned.

"I can hold my liquor, Erwin," Levi retorted. He felt like a child all over again.

He learned, in the end, that he could not hold his liquor as well as he thought he could.

Chapter Text

She stood erect as Keith Shadis stopped in front of her. His eyes were cold and harsh, and she stared into them with a measured gaze.

"Name," he barked.

"Mikasa Ackerman, sir," she said.

He studied her face for almost a full minute before passing her by. She watched in apathy as he intimidated, rounded upon, and then promptly verbally and/or physically attacked trainees. This did not surprise her, but she did have to wonder why he had skipped over her. It could be anything, really, so she decided not to dwell on it.

They were dismissed soon after a girl was sent to run rounds until she was near death. Mikasa took her free time to devise a letter to Levi, though she was not sure she would actually send it. She was certain Levi was furious with her for joining the military. Not that he had any right to be. In all honesty, she could live with Levi hating her, so long if it meant she could be near enough to him to protect him if need be.

At dinner she wrote a letter so long, it spanned three pages front and back. She wrote everything on her mind, and spilled her heart onto the pages, and wondered vaguely if Levi would roll his eyes and scoff at the words. It was this image that convinced her not to send it, and what pushed her to write more and more.

When dinner was over, she gathered up her things slowly, her mind still buzzing with words she wanted to write. She didn't know what she would do with the letter. Maybe she would burn it. Or tear it up. Or both.

She bumped into a boy on her way out, thoughts of Levi's wrath entangling her thoughts and senses. Her letter spilt onto the floor, and she sighed, bending down to pick it up. Her skirt pooled around her feet as the boy spluttered in surprise.

"O-oh!" he gasped, "hey, I'm sorry!" He bent down beside her. "Wow, I'm stupid, I mean, I— I saw you coming, I just didn't move. Um… wow…" He picked up the first page of her letter, as well as her book of fairy tales. She felt his eyes on her face, and so she looked up at him. His face was very long, and his hair was pale and it fell limply across his forehead. His eyes were wide, and she could see perspiration glistening against his pores. "I've… I've never seen anyone like you before— uh, crap…" He winced, and she blinked confusedly at him.

He looked away, his shoulders tensing up. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You have beautiful hair."

"Thanks," Mikasa said hesitantly. He was looking at her letter, and she felt herself stiffen in defense. He looked at Levi's name, and she saw his entire face transform— nervousness bled into anger, which morphed into disappointment, and then defeat. She was partly stunned by the display of emotions, but mostly she needed him to stop looking at her letter, because otherwise she was prepared to break his wrist to get it. She held out her hands expectantly, and when he continued to stare at the letter, she cleared her throat. "I need those."

"Oh." The boy tore his gaze away from the letter, and handed it and the book back to her. "Right. Sorry. You have nice handwriting."

"Not really," Mikasa said, rising to her feet and moving past him. He sat on the ground and stared up at her as she moved. "But thanks."

She walked out of the mess hall, hugging her book and her letter tightly to her chest. Subconsciously, she touched her red ribbon to be sure it was still there. Then she touched her wrist, where the woven band made from her old red dress was tied. Her neckerchief was not around her neck, and her throat felt a little bare without it.

Taking note of her previous blunder, she dodged a boy walking in front of her by whirling around him when he stopped abruptly. He glanced at her, his green eyes narrowing a little at her face. He said nothing as she passed, but instead studied her warily. And then he grabbed her arm.

Instinct snatched her up without mercy, and she exhaled sharply, a scream perched upon her tongue as she whirled around, her leg flying out. She heard him speak hesitantly before her shin landed between his legs.

"Hey, your name is Ackerman, righ— shit—!"

Mikasa stared at him as he went down with a cry of pain, curling into the dirt. She opened her mouth in shock, and mentally berated herself for attacking him. That isn't how you make friends, Mikasa, she chided herself. She dropped to her knees beside the boy, her dark skirt melting into the ground around her.

"I'm sorry," Mikasa said weakly.

"Shit," he groaned, rolling onto his back. His brown hair curled around his eyes, and he choked a little on a chuckle. "Ow."

"I'm really sorry," Mikasa said, biting her lip. "I don't… I don't do well with people grabbing me."

His arms rested against his lower abdomen as a few other trainees stopped to stare at them, whispers flying against the night. He opened his eyes, and smiled weakly. "Sorry," he said, his voice thick with pain. "I was going to talk to you at dinner, but I got distracted…" He sat up, wincing a little as he took a deep breath. "My name is Eren Jaeger."

Mikasa nodded, plucking up the pages of her letter before they blew away. "I'm Mika—" She froze. Something slimy slithered into the pit of her stomach. Like a bad memory, it choked her, and left her feeling queasy and stunned. She looked at Eren sharply. "Did you say Jaeger?"

He nodded eagerly, searching her face. She was startled to find he was smiling a little, looking just as stunned as she was. "My dad was your doctor," he said, his eyes wide. She felt a chill run through her like a sword burrowing into her abdomen. "We… we went to your house, and… um…" He glanced away. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Mikasa said distantly.

There was a short pause between them, and Mikasa found herself wanting to put a lot of distance between her and the stranger. She didn't want to remember that day. But he was forcing her to go back, to watch an axe come down, to hear her mother screaming.

He broke her revere with the caustic quality of his voice. "I'm so sorry," Eren Jaeger said, his shoulders tensing up as he stared at her with his eyes burning with intensity. "We looked for you everywhere! Armin and I went out to look every day after my dad gave up." Eren blinked, and glanced away sheepishly. "Yeah, Armin kept telling me that there was little chance for you to be found without any clues as to who took you, but we still tried…"

"Thank you…" Mikasa said softly. Someone was looking for me, she thought numbly. I wasn't alone, even before Levi. I wasn't alone at all. "That… that means a lot."

He shrugged. "I'm just glad I found you," he said, picking up her book and handing it to her. She took it gratefully. His eyes grew very concerned, and she was further stunned. "Did those guys hurt you?"

She shook her head. The she paused, thinking back. They had hurt her, hadn't they? "Well," she said hesitantly. "Maybe a little. But I was saved before anything too awful happened."

He nodded, and held out his hand. After staring at it for a long moment, she took it, and nodded as well. "I'm glad to hear it," he said earnestly. Then his eyes brightened up. "Wait until Armin finds out!"

She helped him to his feet, and she ignored the fact that she did not know who Armin was. "I'm sorry," she said again. "For kicking you."

"No, it's fine." He let go of her hand, and waved his own casually. "I shouldn't have grabbed you."

"Yeah…" She glanced away. "Don't do that again."

"I won't." He dusted himself off, and looked around at the spectators who had paused to watch the exchange. Mikasa noticed the boy who she had bumped into earlier was watching from the steps of the mess hall with a haunted look in his eyes. "What the hell are you all looking at?"

She turned away to hide a smile. For a moment, he almost sounded a bit like Levi. Though, his voice was much harsher and louder and angrier. It was a familiar sort of callousness, though, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a friend after all.

The next day Mikasa easily hung from the cords attached to her belt. It was much simpler than she could have ever imagined, and she tried to imagine what it might be like to swing with maneuver gear.

"Hey," a boy said, stepping in front of her when she was released. He was small and slender, his blond hair framing his round, smooth face. He smiled a little, and he waved amicably. "You're Mikasa Ackerman, right?"

"Yes," Mikasa said. She turned around when she felt someone gently toss the braid that rested at her back. "Hello, Eren."

"Your hair's pretty long," he said.

Mikasa pulled her braid over her shoulder to examine it. It was tied tightly into a bow with her red ribbon. "I didn't notice," she said. "I guess it is."

"You know that can get you into an accident with the 3D maneuver gear, right?" Eren asked, peering at her.

"I'll take my chances," she said, tossing the braid back over her shoulder. Eren shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said. He jerked his chin at the blond boy in greeting. "You did good, you know."

"Really?" the boy asked, his eyes widening. "I felt like I was going to fall over the whole time, honestly."

"Didn't look like it," Eren said, clapping the boy on the shoulder.

"Aren't you up next?" the boy asked. Eren blinked, and he twisted his head.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Guess so. Be right back!"

Mikasa watched Eren leave, and she listened as the boy exhaled softly. "He's really confident…" he said quietly. He turned to look up at Mikasa, and he smiled again. "Um, my name is Armin Arlelt."

"Oh," Mikasa said. She nodded slowly. "Eren said something about you— you helped him look for me?"

Armin smiled wider, and he nodded. "It's so strange," he said, giving a little laugh. "I mean, we tried so hard to find you, and when we stop looking you just appear out of nowhere. It's kind of amazing."

"Thank you for looking," Mikasa said. "You and Eren… are complete strangers to me."

"We weren't trying to be creepy…" Armin said nervously.

"No, that's not it," Mikasa said. "I meant… why bother?" She stared down at the boy. "Why put so much effort into trying to find a complete stranger?"

"Oh." Armin blinked rapidly, and he stared at her in wonder. "Why wouldn't we?"

"I don't know…" Mikasa turned her face away from him. "I guess… I'm just surprised. This world is very cruel, after all."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Armin said, still smiling weakly. She looked at him, and she noticed how the smile did not reach his eyes. He looked very sad. "I understand, though."

But… don't you think… her own tiny voice echoed back at her from the catacombs of her memory, that maybe it can be beautiful too?

"It's people like you two," Mikasa said, "who make me reconsider the way I feel about the world."

She felt him jump as if she had slapped him. She decided to move forward after that, blinking as a group of trainees watched Eren. She followed their gaze, and her eyes widened. Armin appeared beside her, and they both stared as Eren hung upside-down, his expression one of shock and distress.

"That's not supposed to happen," Mikasa observed quietly.

Armin said nothing. He stared at Eren with a look of horror upon his face. Mikasa twisted the woven band around her list, and frowned. After Shadis proceeded to chew Eren out about how to properly hold his body, Eren was let down. Armin immediately went to Eren's side, slinging the boy's arm around his shoulder. Mikasa realized Eren was bleeding from the head, and she watched as Armin buckled under the taller boy's weight.

She continued to watch, fighting an internal struggle. They were both complete strangers to her. And yet… they had cared about her, without ever seeing her face. They had looked for her when she had been kidnapped. These two boys she didn't know had genuinely cared about their safety before she had even known they existed.

Mikasa moved to Eren's other side, and hefted up his arm, slinging it across her shoulder. Armin looked up at the suddenness of the weight being lifted off him, and he stared at Mikasa with his blue eyes large and glowing with awe. His brow furrowed, and he smiled slightly in gratitude. They dragged Eren away from the crowd, and Armin directed to where their bunk was.

"Thanks," Armin said, pulling some gauze from a drawer. Mikasa had no idea where the gauze had come from, or how Armin had known it was there, but she was grateful. Eren sat, staring dazedly into nothing. "He's so silly sometimes. He has a tendency to get himself into situations like this."

"It's the least I can do," Mikasa said gently. She peered at Eren's face. "Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Armin sighed, carefully pushing back Eren's hair in order to properly administer the gauze. "He's just shocked, I think."

Mikasa nodded. She leaned against the beam of a bunk, and she turned away. "If that's all," she said, "then I'm going to go."

"That's fine," Armin said. He was focused on the gauze, but he jerked his chin in acknowledgement. "Thanks again, Mikasa."

Mikasa paused at the door, and she let her hand rest against the doorframe. She turned her head to peer back at Armin, and she found herself debating once again. "I'll save you two seats at dinner," Mikasa said gently. She paused, and turned her face away. "If you'd like."

"Oh, that'd be great!" Armin gasped. "Thank you!"

Mikasa nodded, leaving the room. She smiled slightly to herself. How strange it was, the sudden charge of energy at the mere thought of mattering. Her existence had been enough to send two boys searching, and she felt guilty that the search had been fruitless. She was glad, though. Because at the very least she had something to cling to. A little pinch of home that lingered in the determination of children. Yes, she was very grateful for that.

She wrote a new letter to Levi at the dinner table briefly summarizing her encounters with Eren and Armin, and she knew she'd never send it. By the time the two of them had actually shown up, she was nearly finished with it. Armin plopped Eren down beside Mikasa, and then moved around the table to sit across from him. He sighed, shaking his head a little in disbelief.

"Go ahead and try and talk to him," Armin said, setting a plate before Eren. He pushed it farther in front of the boy when he didn't budge. "He's completely oblivious."

"Does this happen often?" Mikasa asked, glancing at Eren's face. He still looked dazed and mortified.

"No," Armin said. He shook his head fast. "No way. Eren's never this quiet."

"Have you tried to snap him out of it?" Mikasa asked.

Armin stared down at his own plate, and he pushed around the chunks of potato in his stew. "Well… not really. I'm a little scared to."

Mikasa stared at her letter pensively. "Eren?" she asked, setting her pen down. The boy stared vacantly ahead of him, his lips parted in a stunned sort of gape that left his face looking utterly imperceptive. Mikasa heard Armin give a little sigh. "Eren."

"I told you," Armin said, shaking his head. "He's completely—" Armin gave a soft cry of horror, his chair flying back as he jumped to his feet, and his body curling in alarm as Mikasa's fist collided with Eren's cheek. He went flying out of his chair, falling into a crumpled heap against the wall. He blinked rapidly, and flung himself upright, his eyes ablaze.

"What the hell?" he snarled at her.

"Mikasa, why would you do that?" Armin squeaked as she rose to her feet. She noticed how the mess hall grew quiet. That was interesting.

She stepped up to Eren, and she saw the fury in his eyes. "Are you angry?" Mikasa asked.

"Fuck yeah, I'm—!"

She offered out her hand, her own eyes boring into his. "Then be angry," she said sharply, "and don't mope around like a lamb for slaughter. You look stupid."

Eren stared up at her, his eyes growing wide. She could feel his rage, and she could also feel the eyes of all the trainees in the room burning at her back. She kept her hand extended, and her head high, and she let herself be as calm and frigid as a winter sky before a storm.

Then, to her satisfaction and honest surprise, Eren gave a short laugh. He nodded curtly, and caught her wrist in his fist. "I guess I do look pathetic, huh?" he asked as she pulled him to his feet. He rubbed his cheeks, and winced. "You're really strong."

Mikasa whirled around, her eyes scanning the room. She watched as every eye averted from her gaze, and she wondered if this was how Levi felt. "Sorry for hitting you," Mikasa said quietly.

"I think I needed it," Eren said, sitting down.

Armin still stood, looking stunned and fearful. He stared at Mikasa for a long time, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't bear to let the words out. Mikasa sat down beside Eren, "You had confidence in yourself this morning," Mikasa said. "Too much, maybe, but so what? What the hell are you going to accomplish if you act like a zombie every time you fail?"

Eren looked at her, and then he looked at Armin. "Okay," he said. "Okay, you're right. I've gotta get through it. No moping."

"Good." Mikasa looked at Armin, and she saw that he still looked a little confused. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"N-no," Armin said, waving his hands anxiously. "It's… um… I just wasn't expecting you to do something so violent."

Mikasa glanced away as he sat down, looking around anxiously as the hall filled up with soft murmurings. "Sorry," she said once again. She didn't know why she was apologizing so much, but it seemed only right. She had to remember that these boys did not know her, or Levi, and couldn't possibly understand her thought process. "I'll try not to hit him so hard next time."

Eren choked a little on his stew, and he clapped his hand against his chest as he coughed. "Next time?" Eren asked.

"Discipline requires pain." She gently flicked the bandage beneath his hair. "Which is another reason not to mope about what happened today."

"O-okay," Eren said. He was staring at her strangely, and she bowed her head, wondering if perhaps she needed tone herself down. She was around new people, and it was probably wrong of her to be so quick to bruise.

"Hey, Mikasa," Armin said tentatively. "I'm… I'm sorry to ask, but where did you learn to hit like that?"

"Yeah," Eren said, twisting in his chair to look at her. "How are you so strong? Can you teach us?"

"Eh!" Armin flushed, and he shook his head furiously. "No, no, I don't think I'd be able to hit anyone like that if I tried—"

"I'm not sure if I could teach it anyway," Mikasa said. She looked down at her letter once again, and rested her cheek against her fist. "It wasn't something I learned."

"Oh," Eren said. He looked a little disappointed, but he shrugged it off. "Well, anyways, you're right. If I'm gonna join the Survey Corps, I've gotta endure whatever is thrown at me, right? Even some dumb obstacle like this."

Mikasa looked up from her letter, letting her fist drop from her cheek. "You're joining the Survey Corps?" she asked. She couldn't help the squirming feeling in her stomach. Will he last out there, she wondered, or will he just be another meaningless death? She didn't want to face her own fear of the job she was preparing to take.

Eren nodded eagerly, tearing into his bread and smirking. "Yup," he said after swallowing. "I'm gonna eradicate the titans. Every last one."

"That seems unrealistic."

Eren's smirk fell, and he glanced at her. He made a derisive noise, like a scoff mixed with a snort. "Yeah?" he asked. "Well where are you gonna go, Miss I-Can-Do-Everything-Better-Than-Everyone?"

"Don't call me that," Mikasa said quietly.

"Well?" Eren asked. He wrinkled his nose. "Don't tell me you're gonna join the Military Police."

"No," Mikasa said. "I'm joining the Survey Corps too."

"Really?" Armin asked, his eyes widening. He shared a look with Eren, a glance that could not be read by Mikasa, and then he looked back at her. "Why?"

Mikasa shook her head. She folded up her letter, and tucked it under her arm as she scooped up her plate and cup. "I have no other choice," she said, rising to her feet. I've given myself no other choice. She moved to clear her plate, but a girl appeared in front of her. Mikasa recognized her from the bunk she shared with several other girls, and she watched as the brunette beamed at her eagerly. Her warm brown eyes were hungry and glowing.

"You're not gonna throw that out," the girl said, pointing to the bread still sitting on Mikasa's plate. "Are you?"

Mikasa looked down at it. And then she looked back up at the girl. "Oh." She said. "How silly of me." Mikasa balanced her cup against her plate, and picked up the bread. The girl stared at it eagerly, reaching for it with slow fingers. Mikasa tossed the bread into the air and caught it between her teeth, spinning away from the brunette and inwardly smirking at the noise of distress the girl made.

That night as the other girls chattered restlessly, Mikasa pressed her back to the wall of her upper bunk, reading idly from her book of fairy tales. There were four other girls who shared the loft with her, Sasha, the brunette from earlier, two small blonds, and one dark haired girl. One of the blondes was sitting with her legs slung over the edge of the loft, staring ahead of her with a bored gaze as the girl with dark pigtails tentatively, but amiably, chatted with her. The other blonde was somewhere on the ground.

Until Mikasa realized she wasn't.

"E-excuse me."

Mikasa looked up from her page to stare at the tiny girl. Her hair fell against her face in silky yellow tresses, and she looked up at Mikasa with her hands splayed against her knees. She had a strange air about her, as if she was afraid to speak, but couldn't help it. At the ladder, another girl lounged, her darkened complexion sprinkled with faint freckles. The girl glanced at Mikasa with an acute gaze, and Mikasa stared back.

"Yes?" Mikasa asked, addressing the blonde girl.

"That book," the girl said softly. "I recognize it."

Mikasa glanced down at the book in her hands. "Oh?"

The girl nodded eagerly, and she folded her hands in her lap. "I read it when I was little," she said, her eyes wide and bright. "It's got so many wonderful stories!"

"Yes," Mikasa agreed. She stared at the girl for a long time, studying her round, beaming face. Gently she closed the book, and offered it out. "You can look at it if you want."

The girl grasped the book with tiny hands, and she turned it toward her, examining the cover closely. "This copy looks so much older than mine was," she murmured, running her fingers across the faded inscribed title. The other girl hopped up onto the loft, crouching over the blonde's shoulder.

"Doesn't look like much to me," she said, her voice coarse yet lilting.

"Oh, it's wonderful," the blonde said. The girl smiled at Mikasa, and she tilted her head. "Which one is your favorite?"

"I'm not sure," Mikasa said. She hugged her knees to her chest, and thought about it for a moment. "I think I like the one about the tin soldier."

"I remember that one," the girl said. "It's so sad, what happens in the end."

"Yes," Mikasa agreed. "But it's a nice story."

"What is this thing even about?" the freckled girl asked, snatching the book and frowning at it.

"Fairy tales," the blonde said meekly.

The freckled girl wrinkled her nose. "Fairy tales?" she scoffed.

"They're really good," the blonde said quickly. She looked back at Mikasa, with wide eyes. "Aren't they?"

"I like them," Mikasa said. She wasn't sure if it was because Levi had introduced the stories to her, or if she genuinely like the stories. She couldn't tell the difference.

"Let's hear it then," the freckled girl said, crossing her legs and raising her chin. "I want to know if this book is all that you're griping about."

"Oh," the blonde gasped. "Oh, I don't know…"

The freckled girl shoved the book back in Mikasa's face. "You read it."

"Ymir!" The blonde looked a little frantic, and she waved her hand in apology. "I'm sorry, you… you don't have to, it's—"

"I'll read it," Mikasa said, taking the book. She looked at the blonde, and she rested the book against her knees. "What story is your favorite?"

"Oh," she said. "Erm… I like the one about the snow queen, actually— but—"

"She said she'd read it, didn't she?" Ymir clamped her hand on the blonde's shoulder, causing her to jump a little. "C'mon, Christa, let the girl give it a go."

Christa looked at Mikasa with her large blue eyes glowing with a mixture of guilt and amusement. She smiled weakly as Mikasa opened the book, carefully flipping through the pages. As she flipped through the book, Ymir studied her face. "Hey, you're the chick who punched that kid into a wall."

"Yes," Mikasa said.

Ymir snorted, and Christa looked a little horrified. "That was you?" Christa asked, her eyes wide. "But that boy was already injured…"

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Mikasa said.

"I hope so…" Christa murmured.

"Why?" Ymir asked, peering down at Christa's face. "You don't even know the brat."

"Well, no… but—"

"I'm going to start the story now," Mikasa said. Her hair was loose across her shoulders now, and she'd tied her ribbon around her bicep for safekeeping. Ymir and Christa quieted, and looked at her expectantly. So she clutched the book, and began to read hesitantly, "Story the First. Which Describes a Looking Glass and the Broken Fragments."

Christa looked very eager to hear the story, while Ymir looked rather bored, and turned her head to look at the other duo on the loft. Mikasa watched for a moment before returning her attention to the page. "Youmust attend to the commencement of this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do now about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the very worst, for he was a real demon."

Ymir gave a snort at that.

"One day, when he was in a merry mood, he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever," Mikasa read. "The most lovely landscapes appeared like boiled spinach, and the people became hideous, and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or pious thought passed through the mind of any one it was misrepresented in the glass; and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention."

She noticed how the girl with pigtails had stopped talking, and was now listening to her read. Even the other blonde girl had turned her head to face Mikasa, her dull blue eyes on the book. Mikasa glanced back at Christa and Ymir, who were both watching her expectantly. She continued carefully.

"All who went to the demon's school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now, for the first time, see what the world and mankind were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror. They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels, but the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could scarcely hold it, till at last it slipped from their hands, fell to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces."

"What the hell is this story supposed to be about?" Ymir asked.

"You'll see," Christa whispered.

Mikasa continued to read until her tongue was dry. She spoke with her voice soft beneath the lulling sound of chatter beneath them. She let the words pour from her mouth, and she read until finally Christa eyes began to droop, and she fell asleep hunched over, listening to the low, empty sound of Mikasa's voice. When she finally did stop, it was growing late into the night, and Sasha had appeared on the loft as well.

"I'm stopping here," Mikasa said quietly, shutting her book and setting it beside her blanket.

"Fine." Ymir glanced at Christa, who was leaning against her arm, her breathing shallow and soft. "Guess I should go to sleep too."

"What story is that?" the girl with pigtails whispered urgently. Mikasa was pretty sure her name was Mina. "I've never heard it before."

"It's just a stupid fairy tale," Mikasa said. Even though she knew it wasn't. None of them were. Wasn't that why she kept the book around?

The next morning she stood beside Armin, watching Eren with curiosity and trepidition. She didn't want to see him fail, but she knew it was a grave possibility. This was the test that decided if she would find Eren beside her when she joined the Survey Corps.

She stared at him as he was lifted into the air. She could see every muscle shaking from the pressure as the boy struggled to hold himself upright. He held himself with such bitter determination that she almost smiled. There, she thought. That's no lamb.

Around her trainees chorused, "Oooh!" Mikasa looked down at Armin, who looked so relieved she couldn't help but let herself relax.

She was forced back into a state of tenseness as Eren's body flipped, and his head smacked against the ground once again. Armin jumped beside her, his mouth falling open in shock. Mikasa looked away.

"Put him down," Shadis said. Mikasa listened to Eren protest profusely. She let herself get a look at him after he was set back on the ground. He looks terrified, Mikasa thought. It made her feel sick. But it might be for the best. "Wagner. Exchange your equipment with Jaeger's."

Mikasa understood what he was doing, and suddenly she found herself second guessing her initial perception of Eren Jaeger. Especially when he managed to hold himself upright with someone else's belt. She felt Armin slump beside her, and she closed her eyes. She would be seeing more of Eren, it seemed.

"If that look on his face isn't triumph," Armin said excitedly, "I don't know what is."

Mikasa folded her arms across her chest. "He looks constipated to me."

Armin blinked at her, and laughed a little nervously as the two tall boys beside him glanced at her. The large blond with a square face roared with laughter. His taller friend managed a weak smile, his brow furrowing a little, and Mikasa shook her head. Nonetheless, she was please with herself for making someone laugh.

The true training began after that. Mikasa took no mind to it. She had known it would be rigorous, and she had been prepared. And she excelled. She could not fathom it herself, but it came like a second nature to her. Eren and Armin stuck close, though she found herself reluctant to spar with either of them. Especially Armin. It was difficult to be ruthless with him, and she could not be sure why.

"Please don't hold back," Armin said, taking a deep breath.

Mikasa shifted her position, her head tilting as she watched his body. His muscles were tensing in preparation for her attack, and that wasn't good at all. She didn't want to hurt him. "Are you sure?" Mikasa asked.

He nodded. "I think," he said, "if I can just… at the very least, react faster in situations…" He bit his lip. "How do you do it?"

"I just do it." Mikasa didn't want to think about it.

"Okay," Armin said. He turned his back to her. "Okay, go."

Mikasa sighed. She would rather have Eren as a partner. It was fun to hear him curse after she flipped him. With Armin she just felt guilty and uncomfortable, because it wasn't fair at all. He was a lot weaker than her, and she felt like she might break a bone if she kept flipping him onto his back.

As she'd promised, she did not hold back. She had Armin on the ground before he could bat an eye, and she pinned his wrists above his head, digging her knee into his chest. Armin gave a little choking gasp of pain, wincing a little bit. "Okay," he choked, "u-uh, maybe…"

"This isn't working." Mikasa released him, and she crouched in the dirt for a few moments before wrinkling her nose. "I shouldn't be your partner. I can't teach you how to fight."

"Well," Armin said, sitting up. He rubbed his chest, grimacing a little in pain. "Maybe I can learn more about defense. I think I'd be happy if I could just dodge you…"

"You can try," Mikasa said. She stood up, dusting off her knees. "I'm sure if I just keep kicking the shit out of you, eventually you'll just be able to see it coming."

Armin smiled weakly. "Please don't let it come to that," he said softly.

"Why don't we switch?" Mikasa offered. "Do you think you can flip me?"

"I'm not sure I could lift you!" Armin laughed, scratching his head. His hair fell around his cheeks as he ruffled it nervously.

"Really?" Mikasa considered this, and she watched Armin curiously. "Try."

Armin's smile fell. He stared at Mikasa for a moment, and then his eyes widened. "Are you serious?" he asked, his mouth falling open.

"I don't see why I'd be joking," Mikasa said. "Try to pick me up."

Armin looked a little horrified. He nodded distantly, and Mikasa moved closer to him, gesturing for him to turn around. He obliged reluctantly, and she studied his back for a few moments before planting her hands on his shoulders. He offered out his arms, giving her the signal to jump, and she did. Immediately he buckled under her weight.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her chin in his hair. She felt him stumble, but she waited it out anyway. "Come on," she whispered into his ear. "You can hold me longer than that."

To her satisfaction, he held her for nearly a minute before she felt his legs nearly give out. "Okay, okay," Armin gasped.

She jumped down, and straightened out her jacket. She watched the boy double over, grimacing a little as he tried to level his breathing. He's weak, Mikasa observed, but not as weak as I thought. She was pleased with the revelation. "Armin," Mikasa said softly. "Which branch are you going into?"

Armin's shoulders tensed up. He was quiet for a few moments before straightening, running his fingers through his limp yellow hair. "Well…" He turned to face her, and he looked a little uncertain. "I… I'm going to join the Survey Corps."

Hearing that made her a little sick to her stomach. She wasn't sure why, but every time she heard that one of her peers was going to join the Survey Corps, she felt a sharp pang of fear fly through her. Was fate so cruel as to send her friends, only to send them alongside her to her death? She knew well that Eren and Armin had both faced the titans before— that was much more than she could ever say. But still, it was a somber thought. She didn't want to lose Armin or Eren or anyone, but she was reminded of the stigma that plagued the very thought of the Survey Corps. The low survival rate, and the unavoidable fate they were flinging themselves toward.

"Are you joining," Mikasa said quietly, "because Eren is joining?"

Armin's brow furrowed behind his sweaty bangs. "No," Armin said firmly. "I have my own reasons— different than Eren, but… maybe the same, in some way. I don't know. I guess it'd be easier to just choose the Garrison." He smiled faintly. "It's tempting."

"You're brave," Mikasa stated. He flushed, and she turned her face away. "Don't get me wrong. You two are both fucking fools, and you'd be much better off in the Garrison. But you're both incredibly, stupidly brave."

"You never told us why you're joining," Armin said. He was still smiling, albeit tiredly.

"I did, didn't I?" Mikasa frowned, and she thought back. "Because I have no other choice."

"That's not a real answer, you know."

"No?" Mikasa shrugged, and she began to play with the end of the braid. "I don't really care. It's the answer you're getting."

"I'm sorry," Armin said, flinging his hands into the air. "I didn't mean to pry."

Mikasa stared at her ribbon, and found herself a little bemused with herself. There was no shame in joining the Survey Corps because of Levi, that was certain, but she was still hiding it. Perhaps it was because Levi was making a name for himself already amongst the recruits. Of course, it wasn't until a later date that she realized the extent of his popularity.

"— world's strongest soldier? Is that for real?" It was the boy who had bumped into her the first night, smoking behind the barracks with a freckled boy by his side. Mikasa had been searching for Eren with Armin before dinner, and instead she found Jean Kirschstein and Marco Bodt leaning against the back wall of the barracks. Jean was the one smoking, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and smoke breathing into the late autumn air and mixing with the mist of Marco's breath. Jean looked at her, and his eyes widened a bit.

"Yeah," Marco said, "I heard Connie talking about him! He's landed more titan kills in a few months than most do in a year! He's one of the Survey Corps's best right now, I think."

That caught Mikasa's interest. She turned to face them, tugging thoughtfully at her neckerchief, and she felt Armin stop beside her. He glanced up at her, and then at Jean and Marco.

"Hi, Marco," Armin greeted, waving meagerly. "Jean."

"Hi," Marco said, waving back. Jean seemed to be paralyzed against the wall, his eyes widening a little. "What are you guys doing back here?"

"Uh," Armin said, scratching the back of his neck. "Looking for Eren. Have you see him?"

Jean pulled his cigarette from his lips and blew smoke through the corner of his lips. "Yeah, like we'd know where he is." He swallowed, and looked away fast. He shoved his hand into his pocket, and tore out a carton of cigarettes, shoving it into Mikasa's face. "Smoke?"

Mikasa nodded, pushing the box open and pulling a cigarette out. Armin merely stared at her, and then, very hesitantly, took one of his own. She recalled the first time she had smoked, and mimicked what she had done then, only now she cupped the flame as she lit the end of the paper. When smoke filled her mouth, she spat it out without the same disgust that had been before. Of course, she still didn't like it. But at the very least it was easier to deal with than before.

Armin coughed a little at his first drag, and so she clapped him on the back gently. "You don't have to do it, Armin," Mikasa said, pulling the lit cigarette from her mouth.

He coughed and shook his head. He spoke, and smoke billowed from his lips in a murky cascade. "I'm fine," he rasped. Mikasa decided to believe him, and she turned back to Jean and Marco. She took a drag on the cigarette, letting it chill her nerves. She had yet to receive a single letter from Levi, and so it was a little disconcerting to hear anything about the Survey Corps.

"So," Mikasa said, blowing smoke into the wind. "Who are you talking about?"

"Uh…" Jean blinked rapidly, and she watched the end of his cigarette wither. "Marco, who are we talking about?"

"Um, the world's strongest soldier," Marco chirped. He didn't seem to mind all the smoke blowing in his face. Perhaps he was used to it. "His name is Levi…" His eyes widened as he looked at Mikasa. "Oh."

Smoke was stinging her eyes and tongue and lungs, and she stared up at them both for a few moments. World's strongest soldier, she thought. You're already a legend, Levi. So don't die. Don't be the stupid tin soldier who melts in the end.

"Thanks," Mikasa said. She tossed her cigarette into the dirt, and smothered it with her boot. Armin mimicked her, exhaling smoke a little easier now. She could tell by his expression that this was the first and last time he ever would try a cigarette, though. She turned around and began to walk away, Armin close at her side, watching her very carefully.

"Are you two related?" Marco called out. Mikasa froze where she stood, staring ahead of her in shock. She whirled around, her brows furrowing a little as she studied Marco's innocent face. His freckles stretched across his cheeks as he smiled genuinely at her.

"Why would you ask that?" Mikasa asked.

"Because…" Marco's smile was dampened a little by his confusion. "W-well, you have the same last name."

Mikasa stared at him for a few moments. In those moments, she could hear her heart pounding inside her head, and taste the fresh tang of cigarette smoke as it clung to her tongue. She could feel the kiss of autumn wind on her cheeks, and she could feel Armin's stare burning into her shoulder blades. The gaze was too sharp, too curious, too knowing. It was beginning to scare her how well Armin could read her.

"The same last name…?" Mikasa asked.

"Yeah!" Marco said, blinking. "Levi… Ackerman?"

She turned away from them. "I see," she breathed. She pulled her neckerchief up over her nose, and she closed her eyes. She moved forward again without warning, and she walked fast, ignoring the shouts that called her back. My last name, she thought wildly. Does that mean we're family, Levi? But how could they be? Families talked to each other. Mikasa had scarcely any letters from Levi that year.

"Mikasa!" Armin stopped her by skidding in front of her, looking a little disgruntled. "Why didn't you say you had surviving family?"

"Because I don't," Mikasa said. She watched his face fall into something akin to confusion.

"But… that guy they're talking about…"

"We aren't related," Mikasa said.

"Oh." Armin shuffled his feet, and glanced up at the dim evening sky. "The way you reacted—"

"It's hard to explain," Mikasa said, fidgeting with her neckerchief.

"So you know him?"

Mikasa nodded. She wasn't sure what else to say. Instead she studied his face. "Are you okay?" she asked, prodding his chest. She felt him squirm a little at her touch, and he squeaked as he jumped back. "You didn't have to take a cigarette, you know."

He looked at her with his blue eyes glowing against the blanket of shadows that buried them. In the bleary twilight, Armin's eyes searched her face, and they saw right through her. It made her acutely aware of just how clever Armin was, and she had to swallow the sudden fear that built up inside her chest. Oh, she thought numbly, why is he looking at me like that? It was a strange sort of creeping feeling that stung her as Armin watched her. She wasn't used to anyone looking at her like they could read her thoughts, not even Levi.

Armin laughed, and she relaxed almost immediately. "I was scared to say no," Armin admitted, rubbing his chest.

"Marco wasn't smoking," Mikasa pointed out. "It wasn't a big deal."

"I know," Armin said. "I guess I just… wanted to prove something. I don't know."

"You don't need to prove anything." Mikasa let her arm fall back to her side. She turned her face up to the sky, watching as stars began to blink into slow, brilliant existence in the papery sky above them. "And, yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes," Mikasa said. "I know him."

"Oh." He smiled at her, and he looked around. "I guess we should go find Eren."

"He's probably off taking a shit somewhere," Mikasa said.

"Mikasa," Armin sighed, still smiling.

"Let's just go to dinner." She tugged at her neckerchief. "Might as well."

Dinner proved to be a bit of a bother. Marco and Jean came over immediately upon their arrival, and Armin glanced at Mikasa. She ate her broth in silence, staring at Jean with dull eyes. They watched each other, and Jean quickly looked down at his own food, tearing into his bread and looking away. Do I intimidate him? Mikasa wondered.

"Sorry to bother you about it," Marco said weakly. "But you ran away so quickly, it just made us really curious."

"I'm not sure what you want to know," Mikasa said slowly.

"Who's Levi to you?" Jean asked suddenly. "Like, a brother? Your father?"

Mikasa's spoon froze before her lips. She stared down at as she mulled over his words, feeling the word father chill her blood. Of course, back in Yalkell Levi had been mistaken for her father more than once. Stefan had often just referred to him as her papa, and nothing else. But they did not know Levi, and she wasn't sure if she wanted them to think of him as her father.

Armin was watching her worriedly, and she watched her spoon drop into her bowl when he gently pressed his hand against hers. She opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut.

"It's okay, Mikasa," Armin whispered.

"Yeah," Mikasa said quietly. She blinked up at Jean and Marco, who were watching her with a mixture of horror and confusion. "Sorry. No, he's not my father. He's a friend."

"Who… has the same last name as you?" Jean asked slowly. She could sense how skeptical he was by the way his lips twisted.

"Levi doesn't have a last name," Mikasa said. "I told him he could use mine if he wanted to. I had no idea he actually did."

"He didn't tell you?" Marco asked, his eyes widening. "He just took your last name?"

"And you're okay with that?" Jean cut in sharply.

"I told him he could," Mikasa said. She blinked at the two of them, and picked up her spoon again. "I wanted him to."

"And he's just a friend to you?" Jean asked. She could feel him pushing the topic, and she couldn't be sure why.

"Just a friend," Mikasa said slowly, watching broth fill her spoon and letting it slowly dribble back into the bowl, "might be understating it."

"So is he like your boyfriend?" Jean asked so rapidly, she barely understood his words.

"What?" she asked. She looked up at him blankly.

"Jean," Marco whispered, shaking his head. He smiled weakly at Mikasa, and waved his hands quickly. "Sorry for all the questions, Mikasa. We're really just curious!"

"No, it's…" She frowned, and glanced at Armin. He was watching her, and he shrugged. "It's fine. I just don't understand where that question came from."

"Um." Jean sat back, and he winced. "Yeah, sorry. I don't either."

"Levi is…" She tugged at her neckerchief subconsciously. "He's the closest thing to family I have. You asked me if he was my father." Mikasa looked pointedly at Jean. "You weren't totally wrong. But calling him my father would be a lie. He cared about me, I'm sure, but with Levi it's very hard to tell…" She found her thoughts drifting back to the day Levi had left. He hadn't said he would miss her. He hadn't shown much care that he might die. He just left her with a book and a goodbye, and not even a sorry. And in her most desperate moments, she wondered if she had imagined that he actually cared for it. If his moments of genuineness had all been a farce. "It's been a very long time since I last saw him. I'm not sure anymore who he is to me."

She knew, of course, that no matter what Levi did, she would be there. Because it didn't matter if he loved her with all that he could, or if she meant as little to him as a speck of dust he meant to wipe away at the soonest possible time. She would fight for him. That was the decision she had made.

"Hey."

Mikasa snapped out of her revere to see Eren standing behind Jean, his brow furrowed. Armin smothered a laugh in his hands as the boy's expression.

"What the hell is horse-face doing in my seat?"

"Sit next to me, Eren," Mikasa sighed.

"Oh," Jean said, twisting to look at Eren. He had a strange, shit-eating grin on his lips. "Is this your seat Jaeger?"

"Actually—" Armin said.

"Yeah," Eren snapped. "It is."

"No it's not," Armin murmured.

"Well I'm sitting here." Jean raised his head high, and turned back to face Mikasa. "Thank you, Mikasa, for telling me all of that. I know it's very personal."

"It's not a problem," Mikasa said distantly.

"Wait, what'd you tell him?" Eren leaned across the table, looking at her intently. Mikasa saw Jean grin against his cup, and he glanced between her and Armin, motioning behind Eren's back to keep silent. Mikasa shared a glance with Armin, and they both turned their heads down to their bowls as Eren repeated himself. "No, seriously, what the hell did you tell him?"

"Nothing, really," Mikasa said. "It's not that interesting. Sit next to me, Eren."

"No," Eren said stubbornly. "Not until I find out what you told him. Armin?"

"It's not a big deal," Armin said slowly. "If you sit down, I'm sure Mikasa will tell you."

"I would," Eren said stiffly, "but someone is in my seat!"

Armin closed his eyes, and shook his head in disbelief. "Yes," Armin said, his eyes snapping open. "Marco is."

Eren froze. He looked down at the duo sitting in Mikasa and Eren's usual seats, and Mikasa was amused to find that Armin was right. Mikasa usually sat where Jean was sitting, while Eren sat in the seat where Marco resided. Mikasa watched Eren's face flush with embarrassment, and Marco's face dawn with horror. Jean just looked confused and a little angry.

"Don't get up," Jean said briskly, grabbing Marco's shoulder when the boy scrambled to gather his food to move over. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

Marco looked at him, and he smiled a little before shaking his head. "No, I want to," Marco said. "It'll give me the satisfaction of being polite."

"No, Marco," Eren said quietly. He sat down beside Mikasa, dropping his bowl in front of him and scowling at Jean. "Don't get up, it's okay."

Well played, Armin, Mikasa thought. They bumped their fists together beneath the table in their triumph. And somehow they went the entire dinner without Eren and Jean starting a brawl.

Later that winter, Christa suddenly wanted Mikasa to read more of the fairy tale she had started the first night. Mikasa had no idea why, but she obliged, reading aloud from the book with a makeshift audience. Mikasa noticed Annie Leonhardt was among those sitting around her in a circle, listening intently to the story. When Christa fell asleep on Ymir's shoulder, Mikasa decided to stop for the night, and she began to close the book. A hand shot out, slapping between the book as she snapped it shut. Mikasa looked up into Annie's icy blue eyes, which watched her without a flicker of emotion inside them.

"Keep reading," she said, her voice soft enough not to wake Christa, but hard enough to be commanding. And inside this mingled tone, there was a tiniest hint of a plea.

She read a little bit more before lights out. When she left the next morning for training, her book was beside her blanket as it always was. When she came back that afternoon, it was gone.

And immediately she went into a panic.

"Christa!" Mikasa called, running up to the tiny girl. Ymir stopped as well when Christa turned to face her, and she jumped when Mikasa grabbed both her arms. "Have you seen my book? I know I left it right next to my blanket, but it's not there. Did you take it?"

"Yo," Ymir said, taking Mikasa's shoulder. "Hands off."

Mikasa was a little shaken up about Ymir grabbing her, but she had too much on her mind to lash out. So she let go of Christa, and continued to stare at her desperately as the girl's eyes widened.

"N-no!" Christa gasped, blinking rapidly. "No, no, I didn't…" Something seemed to dawn on her, and she averted her eyes suddenly.

"Who did it?" Mikasa asked, her body coiling with tension.

"I…" Christa bit her lip anxiously, and there was a pause as she wrung her hands. "Well, I don't… I don't know for sure, but…"

"But…?" Mikasa asked through gritted teeth.

"But," Christa said softly, "Annie was the one who asked me… to ask you… to read that story last night."

"Annie." Mikasa took a step back, her heart pounding in her ears. "Thank you."

"Mikasa, wait!" Christa cried, reaching after her. "Don't—!"

Mikasa bolted across the lawn, her braid trailing after her as she maneuvered between trainees being released from their various classes and exercises. She weaved around them, her eyes falling upon each of their faces as she glided past. Her goal kept her searching for about an hour before she was stopped by Armin and Eren.

"Are you okay?" Armin asked worriedly. Mikasa was not listening, but rather looking around her for Annie's face. "You look really…"

"What are you looking for?" Eren asked, cutting Armin off.

"Annie." Mikasa's fists clenched as she tried to steady her breathing. "She has something of mine that I need back."

"Oh!" Armin gasped. "I just saw Annie!"

Mikasa looked at him sharply, while Eren glanced Armin with raised eyebrows. "You were with Annie just now?" Eren asked.

"Yeah, I wanted to see what book she was reading—"

"Where is she?" Mikasa asked briskly.

Armin stared at her with round eyes, and she could feel him taking in her anger and reading it as he did. There it was again. The uncanny ability to read her without even realizing it. So he nodded, his hair bouncing around his ears, and he turned around. "I'll show you," he said, waving her forward.

"Just tell me," Mikasa hissed through gritted teeth.

Armin shook his head, and waved her forward still. "It's better if I show you."

"Well I'm comin'," Eren said. He jumped to Armin's side, walking steadily in time with his smaller friend. He paused to glance back at her. "C'mon, Mikasa, doesn't Annie have something of yours?"

She exhaled furiously through her nose. "Yes," she said. She started forward with them, and as they walked she began to cool down. She also began to put the pieces together. Annie wanted to hear the story last night, Mikasa thought, and she stole the book so she could finish it. It was almost enough for Mikasa to sympathize with her. But not quite. Because she'd still stolen something precious, and that wasn't easy to forgive.

Mikasa was surprised to find herself standing on the roof of the girl's barracks as Armin settled himself beside the smaller blonde and whispered something to her. Annie did not react, but through her long bangs Mikasa could see her eye flicker fast to look at her face. Mikasa slid down the side of the roof, mentally reminding herself over and over not to push the girl off.

"Annie," Mikasa said. The name felt chilly on her tongue as Annie met her gaze, her tired eyes hard and unyielding as the gazed at Mikasa's face. She held Mikasa's book in her hands, and it was open to the familiar story of "The Snow Queen". "Give me my book."

Annie's jaw tightened, and Mikasa could almost see a flicker of emotion there. They stared at each other for nearly a minute, their glares measured and their faces blank. There was nothing between them but icy stares that flashed every so often with a bitterness.

Annie snapped the book shut, and handed it over without a word.

Mikasa snatched it back, hugging it to her chest with her heart drumming against her chest and her eyes closing with relief. There was nothing more terrifying than finding that something irreplaceable had been ripped away. And there was nothing more soothing than feeling it being returned, the sudden rush of sweet reprieve as if nothing else in the world mattered.

It's just a book, Mikasa reminded herself. But she was overwhelmed with the relief anyway.

Annie stood up to leave, and Mikasa looked down at the book. Driven by impulse, she leapt to her feet as well, balancing herself easily on the slant of the roof. "Annie," Mikasa said. "I would have let you borrow it if you had asked."

The girl froze. She stood in silence, facing Eren with her back turned to Mikasa and Armin. There was something undeniably cold about her, and with every moment that passed there was a bone chilling finger of wind that stroked their faces. The shingles beneath them were slick with ice, but they were trained enough that they could handle it.

"I imagine," Annie said quietly, "that it's too late to ask now."

"Yes." Mikasa's mouth felt dry. She watched Annie nod, and she began to trek carefully up the roof. Mikasa felt Armin's stare, and she gritted her teeth in frustration. "I'm going to read it out loud again tonight, though."

Annie seemed to consider this for a few moments before she turned away and slid off the roof, landing easily on her feet when they hit the ground below Mikasa listened to her footsteps as they echoed in the winter air. She pulled her neckerchief up to her nose, and she closed her eyes.

"She said…" Armin looked a little apprehensive, his eyes following Annie's back. "When I asked… I mean, she didn't answer right away, and I'm really surprised that she did, to be honest, but… she said that she never got to read stories like that when she was younger. Maybe that's why she stole it."

"I don't care," Mikasa said. She squeezed the book tightly, afraid to let it go. "I don't care."

"You don't sound like you don't care."

"Hey," Eren said, sliding down the roof and halting himself between them. "So can Armin and I listen to you read that story tonight?"

"What?" Mikasa asked dully.

"Me. Armin." Eren made gestures with his fingers, his index and middle fingers darting across the air in a mimic of legs. "We sneak into the girl's barracks and listen to your story."

"That is a terrible idea," Mikasa said.

"I agree," Armin said feebly. "What… what if we get caught? We're not allowed in each other's barracks after dark."

"If we get caught," Eren said, "which we won't, by the way— then I'll take the fall. Do the rounds for both of us, I don't care."

"I'm not even sure you'd like the story, Eren," Mikasa said.

"If it's good enough to catch Annie's attention," Eren said, "I wanna hear it."

"Fine," Mikasa said. "Do what you want."

They looked out at the ground below, and Mikasa found herself reminiscing about the nights she spent with Levi on the roof watching the stars. She wondered what he was doing, and if he still watched the stars. She wondered a lot of things as time passed. She wondered why Levi didn't write. She wondered if she had angered him so much that he wanted nothing to do with her now. She wondered, and she hoped that she could amend for it. But even if she couldn't, it made no matter.

Armin and Eren came and went undetected that night when she read the story. Annie listened, but from the edge of the loft with her back turned to Mikasa. Oddly enough, Armin and Eren kept coming back after that. When Mikasa finished her book of fairy tales, Armin brought other books. Of course, she let him read them, because she was a little sick of her own voice by that point.

By the next winter, they had somehow gotten away with sneaking in and out of each others' barracks numerous times. And it more trainees joined in to listen to Armin read vivid descriptions of the outside world out of his thick tomes, listened to him articulate orations from archaic histories, and listened to him speak with attentive eyes and ears. Mikasa preferred listening to Armin read than reading herself. He was a calming presence, and his voice was just as pacifying. His stories were strange, but wonderful, and she enjoyed them to a great extent.

One night, however, Ymir tore the book out of Armin's hands and tossed it onto the ground.

"Hey!" Connie cried, lifting his head from the pillow he'd been hugging. Sasha lifted her head groggily beside him.

"Ymir!" Christa gasped, jumping off a bunk and rushing to the tall girl's side. Mikasa just lay lazily beside Annie on the loft. They still didn't talk much, but Mikasa had more or less forgiven her in the year between the book incident and the current gathering. They were also the only ones who preferred to not be on the ground with the rest of the trainees.

"Alright!" Ymir called. She was hushed rather viciously by her peers, and she promptly ignored it. "Everyone in a circle. We're playing a game."

"A game?" Armin asked faintly from his spot on the ground.

"Your little history lesson is getting boring," Ymir said. "It's time to have some fun."

"I'm having fun," Christa said, her voice very soft as she shot Armin an apologetic look.

"So am I," Marco said, smiling from the bunk beside Connie. "I like these stories, and the way Armin tells them."

Armin, who was sitting on his knees, shot Marco a look of gratitude.

"Don't care." Ymir bent down, and peered at the book. She pulled the clip from her hair, a leather frame with a wooden chip that held her hair within the frame, and she set the small spike of timber down on the book. "Anyone gonna play?"

"What is it, exactly?" Armin asked.

"Oh," Christa said, staring down at the book. Her eyes widened. "Oh, no, Ymir, I thought you were joking about this—"

"Your mistake," Ymir said, smirking. She gazed around the room. "I need a brave volunteer."

There was silence throughout the room as they all looked around. Mikasa, out of curiosity, sat up.

"You volunteering up there?" Ymir called.

"No," Mikasa said.

"I'll do it."

Mikasa watched as Jean pushed himself off the bunk below her, and he stepped up to Ymir. He raised his head high, and shrugged. "Kay, what do I do?"

"Spin the clip."

Mikasa watched Christa take a very careful step away from the point of the wooden clip as Jean acquiesced. Just before the clip stopped spinning, Connie fell off his bunk in revelation.

"This is spin the bottle!" Connie cried. Mikasa watched Jean blanch a little as the clip came to a very gentle stop.

"Are you kidding?" Jean asked flatly. "No offense, but no way."

"You volunteered," Ymir said, grinning toothily. She clapped Jean on both shoulders, and shoved him forward. "Go get 'im, tiger."

"Ymir," Christa said, biting her lip worriedly. "Come on, this isn't fair."

"It's only a game," Ymir said, folding her arms across her chest. She jerked her head up at Annie and Mikasa. "You two are next."

"No," Mikasa said. Annie sat up beside her and watched Ymir with her icy blue eyes piercing downwards. Without a word she moved to the ladder and slid down it, peering at Jean as he stood rigidly. He looked a little uncomfortable.

"Um," Christa said, her eyes flashing rapidly about the room. "How about a new rule? The… the two people who get picked have to go outside for a minute. And we're not allowed to look."

"Then how do you know if they did anything?" Connie asked.

"You don't," Ymir said, her smirk widening. She caught Christa in a headlock, and she nodded eagerly. "No, this is even better. Because no matter how much you deny nothing happened, there's no way to prove it."

"Um," Jean said, glancing at Marco as the freckled boy stood up awkwardly. "It's cold outside?"

"Get the hell out."

"Fine," he said, his eyes narrowing. He marched forward, allowing Marco to slink behind him without much attention to the stares. Mikasa sighed, and she really wished she could get away with just sinking into the wall behind her and not being part of this horrible little game. However, that didn't stop her from following Annie down the ladder, and standing stolidly as they all began to form a circle on the ground.

"Do you think they're actually doing it?" Sasha whispered.

"With Jean?" Connie shook his head. "Who knows."

The entire room was silent when Jean and Marco returned a minute later. Mikasa had no idea what had transpired beyond the door, and she could not guess. The flush on both their cheeks could easily be explained by the frigid temperature, and otherwise they looked no different from when they had left. That didn't stop Reiner from giving a wolf whistle.

Annie went next, flicking the wooden hair pin with little interest. It spun fast, and then lazily for a few moments.

There was no awkward smirks or giggling when the pin landed on Armin. Instinctively, Mikasa wanted to pull Armin out of the spotlight. She couldn't be sure why she was uncomfortable with the idea of it, but she didn't trust Annie with Armin. Anyone else, maybe, but not Annie. Maybe it was because of how much Armin trusted her. It was too strange to be sure.

"O-oh," Armin said quietly. He stood up. "Okay."

Annie watched him with her gaze unchanging. Can Armin read her like he reads me? Mikasa wondered. She hoped so. She hoped that Annie felt the intensity of Armin's gaze, and felt it sneak into her head and devour all her thoughts. Mikasa hoped that Annie knew just how smart Armin was. The boy knew more than he let on, but never let it slip. He could know anything and everything, and hide it behind a shy smile.

"This is a stupid game," Mikasa declared when they disappeared behind the door.

"You're next, Mikasa," Reiner laughed beside her, elbowing her gently. "You ready for that?"

"I'd rather go back to listening to Armin," Mikasa said dully.

"Do you think they're doing anything?" Eren asked.

"No way," Connie said. "Annie wouldn't let Armin make a move on her."

"Armin wouldn't," Eren said. "Annie, I don't know…"

"They have like, twenty seconds," Jean said, looking neither guilty nor sheepish. Mikasa did have to wonder if he and Marco had actually did anything outside, or if they had just sat there and talked. She would have to assume the latter.

"Mikasa, spin now," Ymir ordered.

Mikasa glanced up at her, and she felt a little uncertain as she reached forward and spun the clip. She sat back and watched it spiral, blurring into a circle of brown. She was not entirely certain she even knew how the game worked. When they went outside, they could do anything or nothing? It seemed a little abstract to her, and she couldn't grasp what the rules were exactly.

She stood up and walked up to Eren. She couldn't find it in her to be surprised that the clip had landed on him. She saw him frowning a little as he stood as well, and he glared back at Ymir before following Mikasa to the door.

"They went over a minute," Christa said quietly from behind them.

"What are they doing?" Connie wondered aloud. Mikasa and Eren glanced at each other. Mikasa opened the door enough for Eren to slip through without anyone else seeing outside, and then she promptly disappeared, closing the door swiftly. She was certain they had done it quick enough that no prying eyes had seen into the darkness.

"You two got picked?" Armin asked. He was sitting on the steps, embracing his knees as snowflakes fluttered in the lantern light.

"Yeah," Eren said. He sat down beside Armin, and rested his hand on his shoulder. "What happened to Annie?"

"She left."

Mikasa couldn't say she was surprised. She couldn't help feeling a bit irritated though. She set herself down on the other side of Armin, freshly fallen snow licking at the backs of her legs, melting against her thighs. Her loose hair was tickling her face, long strands catching against the wind and blowing about her head as the icy air bit at her cheeks.

"It's a stupid game," Mikasa said. "Don't let it bother you."

"Yeah," Eren said, bumping his shoulders against Armin's. "I'm pretty sure this dumb kissing thing is just Ymir trying to make us all really uncomfortable, or some shit like that." He perked up, and shrugged. "It's probably better that you didn't—"

"We did, though," Armin said softly. His breath blossomed against the frigid night air, visible under the saturated yellow lamplight.

Mikasa and Eren shared another glance. "And she still ran off?" Eren asked, frowning now.

"Maybe I'm just a bad kisser."

The door opened behind them, and Jean appeared in the entryway. Mikasa glanced at him as he drawled, "Time's up."

"Give us another minute," Eren said, never looking away from Armin's face. The smaller boy tucked his chin to his chest and hugged his knees closer.

"You had a minute," Jean said. "That minute's over."

Mikasa stood up, dusting the snow off her skirt. She stepped back up onto the porch of the boy's barracks, and she stood before Jean with her chin raised high. "One more minute," she said sharply. "Got it?"

He stared at her, and his jaw clenched. Then he looked past her at Armin, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. She watched him exhale sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Fine," he said, spinning away from her. The door slammed in her face.

Mikasa relaxed a little as she wandered back to Armin's side, steam flooding from her mouth as she spoke. "We can leave too," she offered. "I can grab my blanket. We can sit on the roof of the girls' barracks."

"I think I just want to go to sleep," Armin admitted. He smiled up at her. "Thanks anyway, Mikasa."

Mikasa considered this for a moment, and she looked at Eren. He looked puzzled, and a little angry. Perhaps at Jean for interrupting them, or at Annie for hurting Armin's feelings. Or perhaps at Armin for being so sad about the entire ordeal. Mikasa could not say. She was certain she didn't know Eren as well she could know him. And maybe that was her own fault. She could not say that she could really comfort Eren if he was sad, or understand him when he was angry. She knew him as an impulsive oddity. A boy who had looked for her when she was missing, and a boy who had been inexplicably happy to find her after so many years. And that warmed her heart.

She grasped Armin's chin and turned his head to face hers. He looked up with her with widening blue eyes, his lips parting to form a question. Very carefully, she stole that question from his lips. There was something very tender about it, very innocent and tentative as she felt her lips vibrate from the words Armin muffled against her. He blinked rapidly as she pulled back, still cupping the boy's chin.

"I don't know, Eren," Mikasa said. She turned Armin's chin towards Eren, who caught her gaze. She wondered if he understood what she was doing. "I don't think Armin's a bad kisser. Do you?"

He smirked. Armin's entire body jolted as Eren planted both hands against his head, and pulled him up to kiss him. Mikasa watched Armin's arms flail outwards in shock, and he sat back awkwardly when Eren released him.

"Nope," Eren said. He was still smirking, his face flushed, and Armin sat stunned between them.

He laughed a little, weakly at first, and then he had to muffle his giggles with his hands. "Thanks," he gasped, his face bright red. He shook his head, blinking rapidly and pushing himself to his feet. "I can't believe you two just did that."

Eren and Mikasa shared another glance as he turned away from them. Mikasa pulled her neckerchief up to hide her smile. Armin went inside after that, but not before throwing them one last glance. He was smiling at them, and Mikasa stared ahead of her as she heard the door click shut behind them. They still had a few seconds left. She was well aware of it.

"This is a really stupid game," Eren said from beside her. He'd scooted closer, his breath unfurling against the flood of winter air. Mikasa pulled down her neckerchief, icy fingers of wind touching her lips gingerly. Snowflakes danced around them, freckling the darkness and gathering against the windswept mass of hair bundled around her shoulders.

"Yeah," Mikasa said. She felt him beside her, very warm in spite of the winter chill. She could almost feel the mist of his breath. "It's really stupid."

She kissed him. It was all her, and she had justified it by telling herself that she could easily die with him at a later date. It was only fair to kiss him. He tasted like pure warmth, and that made the kiss more heated and less innocent than the one with Armin had been. And in a few seconds, she felt Eren carefully apply pressure back to her lips, his fingers tangling in her hair when he reached for her shoulder. Mikasa saw snowflakes clumping in his eyelashes as they grazed her skin. The mist of their breaths blinded them as it blew about their cheeks, and by the time the door behind them opened again, they were back to staring out into the dark night around them. Snow melted in their hair as they stood up, never speaking, and went back inside.

Mikasa had neither sent nor received any letters to or from Levi in her time training. She'd intended to, but her heart wasn't in it. Everything she wrote never felt right. Instead she wrote to Greta, and received some letters in return. The woman seemed grateful that Mikasa bothered to keep in touch, and that made Mikasa happy. Sometimes she felt that she had taken Greta's hospitality for granted. It had not been the woman's fault that Levi had left, and Mikasa often thought about how difficult she had been with Greta for no reason at all. It was sad, not knowing if she'd ever see the barmaid again.

Near to her graduation, Mikasa was surprised by a visit from a high ranking soldier of the Survey Corps. The trainees were abuzz with rumors as to why she was there, if she was trying to gain recruits or if there was an actual issue. Mikasa watched her speak with Keith Shadis for a little while, and she noticed how eccentric the woman's movements were as she spoke. She couldn't help a thought surfacing in her mind. I wonder if she knows Levi.

Mikasa was further surprised when the woman plopped down across from her at dinner.

She'd looked up sharply, sitting up straight as she acknowledged all the eyes on her. The woman especially had an intense gaze, brown eyes wide and searching Mikasa's face. She had an air of undying curiosity, and it gleamed inside her eyes without fail. And then the woman smiled.

"It's so strange," she said, cupping her chin pensively. "He said you aren't related, but I could almost swear you look alike."

Mikasa felt her heart jump into her throat. She dropped her spoon, and she nearly jumped to her feet with excitement. A thousand questions congealed on her tongue, sagging heavily in her mouth. In the end she could only utter one. "You know Levi?" Mikasa gasped, her eyes flashing wide.

The woman nodded fast, still smiling. "He's actually the reason why I'm here." She shook her head. "When he found out I was scheduled to pass near here, he asked me to find you."

"Me," Mikasa repeated softly.

"Does that surprise you?" The woman grinned, and she rested her chin in her hands. "It's funny, since I think you're the only person he really overtly shows affection for."

"Affection." Mikasa didn't know what to say. Was this woman serious? Levi wasn't affectionate, not really. It occurred to her that maybe they had different definitions of the word affection. In truth, Mikasa associated the word with the foreign sensation of a hug.

"Oh, hey!" The woman leaned forward, pointing to Mikasa's neckerchief. "You're actually wearing it!"

Mikasa touched the fabric, and subconsciously tugged it to her lips. She looked down at her plate, and she had to wonder just how well this woman knew Levi. She was wild and strange, and her curiosity had no bounds. Mikasa was unsure of how to approach her, or how to approach the situation at hand.

"Levi made it," Mikasa said. "Why wouldn't I wear it?"

"I'm just surprised," the woman said, smiling. "Oh! I'm Zoë Hange, by the way."

"Zoë," Mikasa said slowly.

"Hange is fine," Hange said. She watched Mikasa for a few moments, and her eyes softened a bit. "I know it's not fair to ask, but do you know what branch you'll be joining yet?"

"Yes," Mikasa said. "I'll be joining the Survey Corps."

Hange continued to smile. "Because of Levi," Hange said, "right?"

Mikasa stared at the brunette. Because I want to protect him, Mikasa wanted to say. Because I owe him my life, and I would gladly give it to save him. It means nothing without him. But she couldn't. She couldn't speak. Maybe she was scared to admit any of it, or maybe she just wasn't so sure she wanted to be on this path.

"At any rate," Hange said, "I know he worries about you. He won't say it, or even really emote it, but it's easy to tell when he's worried. He's simultaneously quieter and more talkative." Hange paused, and she scratched her head. "You know what I mean?"

"Yes," Mikasa said. A trickle of warmth blossomed inside her chest, and she sunk against the bench. "When he has a lot on his mind, he'll talk a lot but never really say anything."

Hange's smile widened. She pulled out an envelope and slapped it on the table. "Well!" she said, rising to her feet. "I really need to get going, since this detour was unscheduled. I've got a lot of work to do, and stuff, you know." She waved offhandedly. "I hope to see you soon, Mikasa."

"Yeah," Mikasa said vacantly. She lifted the envelope up, and stared at it for a long time. As Hange moved, Mikasa felt herself spring to her feet. "Wait! Hange, can you tell Levi something for me?"

Hange turned to face her. She smiled, and stuck her hands into her pockets. "Sure," she chirped. "What do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him…" Mikasa felt her heart thudding as she tried to breathe, tried to speak. She was losing her mind in her struggle to keep calm. "Tell him I…" Tell him I love him. "I miss him."

Hange's smile only widened. Mikasa managed to relax a little when she nodded profusely. "Of course," Hange said, looking as though she wanted to laugh. "He misses you too, you know."

"Yeah…" Mikasa sat down, and she let her fingers gingerly run across the ends of the envelope. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." Hange studied her face. She grinned, and waved. "Bye!"

"Bye…" Mikasa watched her leave, her eyes glued to her back. The wings of freedom were burned into her mind and she could almost feel them. Feathers fluttered against her shoulders, against her cheeks, and she could taste them molting inside her mouth. She could see them wilting against rain, frosting against snow, whipping against wind. She could feel them digging into her back, growing stunted and weak.

She didn't open her letter. She was still staring at it when Eren and Armin showed up ten minutes later, excitedly asking about the woman from the Survey Corps who had come to speak with her. Mikasa didn't have much to say. She was too busy mulling over what Levi could possibly have written. Was it an apology for not writing? Was he forgiving her for joining the military? Could the words printed on the page be any worse than what she had imagined? She was stunned by her reluctance, and stunned even still by her lack of faith. She didn't want to know what Levi had to say.

"Mikasa, are you even listening?" Eren asked.

Mikasa sat stolidly, her eyes cast toward the letter. "I'd apologize," she said, "but I'm not sorry."

"What is that?" Eren pointed to the letter, ignoring her coarse behavior. Armin sat across from them, looking between them with anxious eyes.

"Nothing that concerns you." Mikasa took the letter and slipped it into her lap.

"Did that lady give it to you?"

"Eren," Armin said, "stop being nosy. She obviously doesn't want to tell you anything."

Mikasa nodded to Armin gratefully as Eren sat back. He looked a little sullen. Mikasa went through the rest of dinner sitting very quietly, staring at the envelope. How bad could it be? What if it wasn't bad at all? What am I so afraid of, anyway?

She set the envelope, seal unbroken, in her book of fairytales. She did not read it until the night before the disbanding of the 104th Trainee Corps.

As Eren and Jean went at it again at their last dinner as a unit, Mikasa slipped the envelope out of the book. Reiner was mopping up the drink he'd snorted into Armin's hair, which left everyone around her distracted. She knew she would have to read the letter before she joined the Survey Corps and saw Levi again. Her time was up, and her stomach was churning nervously.

She opened the envelope, and tentatively unfolded the paper. The corners of her lips twitched at the familiarity of Levi's closely knitted, thickly scrawled handwriting. She found herself muddled in a bout of nostalgia, taking measures to soak in every word that Levi wrote. It wasn't so long ago that her life had revolved around waiting for these letters to arrive. Short and matter-of-fact, never overtly containing emotion. Mikasa could tell Levi's hand by glancing at the way he strung words about. There was no need for a signature.

Mikasa,

You made a mistake in joining the military. There is no comfort here, and a lot of loss. You've lost so much already, been through too much shit, and I can't understand why you would risk everything just to lose more.

Mikasa almost wanted to stop there. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she had known that it was coming, but even so she was sad to see the words written. She looked up at Jean and Eren, their argument a stream of words rushing past her, inaudible and thrumming. She felt as though she was dreaming.

Except, Levi wrote, the worst thing is, I do understand. I fucking hate it, but I understand your ass-backwards logic. You didn't make the mistake, Mikasa. It was me. I can accept it. I was responsible for you, and I left you to fulfill a selfish desire. Do you remember when I left, and I asked if you hated me? I wish you said you did. You should hate me for abandoning you, and you should hate me for being a piece of shit of a human being for so long. When I found you, I had every intention of selling you. You know that, right? I would have sold you if you had been a little older. Does that make you hate me? If it doesn't, I won't be surprised. But I hope it does. I want you to hate me, because I don't want you to care about the man who nearly sold you like a fucking pig for slaughter.

Mikasa took a deep breath, and she turned the page over feverishly.

I can't deny that since meeting you, I've become a better person. But only recently has the glass been torn from my eyes. I see how terrible I was. To you, mostly. You didn't deserve to have me looking after you, and I want you to hate me for putting you in danger, for making you complicit in crimes, for not being there. The world is cruel, and we both see it. It is disgusting, and ruthless, but I think you made it better. I was in a very bad place. You can say I had a shard of glass in my heart, and in my eyes, and I had little faith in humanity. You made me see the world clearer, and I'm thankful, but that doesn't mean I want to see your blood soak what little beauty there is left. I know by the time you read this letter, you'll probably be near done with your training. I'll admit, it took me a while to write. I hate this situation, and I hate pointless deaths. All I have ever wanted from you, Mikasa, is to see you live. You don't need to be near me. It's too late, I know. I know that I can't change your mind. I don't think I can make you hate me either. But you don't need to do anything for me. I just want you to be breathing, and that's all the thanks I need from you.

Take care,

Levi

There was warmth tingling her cheeks as she smiled and closed her eyes. Thank you, Levi, Mikasa thought. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the rise and fall. Thank you for everything.

"Mikasa?" Armin asked, his voice heightening in shock. "Mikasa, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. She didn't trust herself to speak. Her eyes snapped open, and her heart thudded in her chest. Eren had spun around to face her, and she saw all his rage at Jean disappear as he leaned across the table, his brows furrowing.

"Are you…?" Eren looked surprised. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and stood up. She folded the letter and moved quickly. She didn't know how to explain her tears, and she was scared of Eren and Armin. Because she let them know her. And she knew that they could see her heart, and all the filth that she had allowed to gather there.

Eren grabbed her arm, swerving his body when her leg flew out. His entire body buckled, and he dropped to the ground when her shin connected with his knee instead of his groin. She stared at him, tears glistening in her eyes as he knelt, still clutching her arm. She blinked rapidly as the hall quieted, and she bent down before him.

"Why the hell are you crying?" Eren asked through gritted teeth. He was wincing from pain.

"I don't know," Mikasa whispered. She shook her head and forced the tears away. "Did I hurt you?"

"Nah." He let her help him back to his feet anyway. He studied her face, and he gave a teasing smirk. "You're not scared, are you?"

"I don't know," Mikasa said honestly.

"You can't be," Eren said firmly. "You're the strongest person I've ever met. So you've gotta stay strong. Or else what the fuck are people like me and Armin supposed to do? I mean, we ain't weak, but we sure as hell ain't you."

"I can be scared," Mikasa said, "and I can be strong."

"Okay," Eren said, smiling at her. "Good to hear."

Her mind felt frenzied from the letter. She was stewing in her own unbridled emotions, and she took Eren's hand. "I can be scared," she said distantly, "and I can still protect the things I care about. Can't I?"

"If anyone can," Eren said, "it's probably you."

She looked between Eren and Armin, and she nodded. "Thank you," she said. She blinked, and she turned away. "I need to go do something. I'll be back in a little bit."

Eren let go of her, and she whirled around, pulling up her neckerchief over her mouth.

When she returned from her room, she found Eren outside the party hall beside Armin and a tall man. As she approached, she watched Eren fall to his knees, clutching his head. She ran to Armin's side, her long hair streaming behind her, and she stared at Eren as he trembled.

"What's wrong with him?" Mikasa asked.

"I… I don't know," Armin said weakly, "he just…"

"Eren?" Mikasa bent down beside him, her hand landing on his back. She could feel his entire body buckling as he held his head, sweat appearing on his brow.

"I…" His voice was reedy and thin, shaking from pain. "I-I'm fine, but… don't ask me why… my head feels like it's gonna split apart." She looked into his eyes, and saw that they were watery and glistening. "And yet…I can't remember anything…"

Mikasa caught him as he fell against her, his entire body quaking. Armin supported Eren's head, cradling it as he fell limp. Mikasa quickly checked his pulse, and her body slackened with relief when she felt it drum steadily against the sweat slicked skin of Eren's neck.

"What the fuck did you do, old man?" Mikasa asked the stranger sharply. She hovered over Eren defensively, her resolve only strengthening. I'll protect everyone I care about, Mikasa swore. No matter what.

"Mikasa!" Armin gasped. He shot the man an apologetic look. "Hannes, this is Mikasa Ackerman."

The man's frantic expression transformed as he looked at her. "The missing girl?" he asked, bending down before them. His eyes widened. "Damn, that's some luck that you all ended up together."

Mikasa said nothing. She scooped Eren into her arms, ignoring Hannes's surprised shout, and she looked down at Armin. "Where are you sleeping?"

Armin stood up, waving her forward. "C'mon, I'll show you." Eren shuddered in her arms, and she raised her head high. He felt light as a feather compared to Levi.

She laid him out on his bed, and she pressed her hand to his forehead. "He feels warm," Mikasa said, turning to face Armin. Hannes stood in the doorway, looking concerned. "And gross."

"Do you think he's sick?" Armin asked worriedly. He touched Eren's forehead as well, and Mikasa watched him frown, his thick eyebrows knitting together.

"I don't know," Mikasa said. "I don't think so. It came on suddenly, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Armin said. "When Hannes brought up his dad."

Mikasa bit her tongue to keep herself from reacting at the mention of Grisha Jaeger. It was still a sore topic. She would rather forget everything that had happened that day, but she couldn't help but associate Eren's father with the slaughter of her family.

She nodded, and she turned away. "It's late," she said quietly. "I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow, Armin."

"Okay," Armin said, sitting down tentatively at the edge of Eren's bed. "See you."

She passed Hannes by, moving from the room fast. She was worried about Eren, yes, but she was certain the boy was too stubborn to succumb to something so feeble as an illness. And even if his condition worsened, Mikasa was aware of the ways in which she could procure something to save him.

But she was certain it was nothing life threatening. Or at the very least, she hoped.

She didn't find out until the next day that the Survey Corps was in Trost. And they were preparing to leave for an expedition. Mikasa found Eren, who was much better after whatever had happened the night before. Armin wasn't far behind, and she listened to them talk about the Survey Corps while they walked to the gate of Wall Rose.

She waited anxiously, clutching a piece of paper in her hand and watching the road. She knew Eren and Armin were watching her closely, and so she kept her face impassive. She couldn't let them know how nervous she was to see Levi again. When the sound of horses shuddered through the air, Mikasa felt her body coiling. She wasn't sure if she had the urge to run toward the horses or away from them.

"Mikasa," Armin murmured beside her as the people around them chattered about the approaching Survey Corps. She shook her head. She watched as the men and women streamed by, and she bounced on her feet, feeling uncertain as her eyes flickered through the faces. She saw Hange, and then she began to move. She walked along with the trotting horses at first, craning her neck to get a good look at all the soldiers. Eren and Armin stayed behind, but Mikasa could here Eren shouting after her.

She spotted Levi as the troops halted before the gate. She recognized him immediately, his stature and his hair and his posture. She knew Levi well enough to catch him by his back. She could hear the crowd around her chatter restlessly, "What is that girl doing?"

She squeezed through the troops, ducking under horses and weaving between soldiers. "Hey," a man gasped. "Hey, girl! You shouldn't be here!"

She might have flipped him off if her mind wasn't focused on Levi's back. She moved swiftly, dodging and maneuvering almost as she would if she was using her three dimensional gear. She was so enrapt in her goal, she couldn't be bothered. She flipped over a horse or two on her way to Levi's side.

When she reached it, her heart was pounding so hard that she could feel it drumming inside her throat. Her legs felt a little weak, and she found herself bolting to attention when his head turned, and he looked down at her. His eyes were the same shadowy blue they had always been. There was a surplus of circles under his eyes, but that was the only difference she could see in his appearance. He held himself with the same air of confidence, and he had the same hardened expression he always wore.

Her breath caught in her throat. Everything she'd been dying to say for five years knotted up on her tongue. Her mind had drawn up a blank for her, and she took a deep breath, feeling his gaze as it searched her face. There was shock in his eyes, deep in the recesses of them. The way his brows moved told her so.

Mikasa thumped her fist against her heart, and she folded her other arm behind her back. She raised her head to him, bits of hair framing her face, and the rest tightly braided at her back.

"Hello, Levi," Mikasa said. She saw Hange peer over Levi's shoulder, and the woman smirked. "Or should I call you Captain Levi?"

Levi studied her face, and she grew restless as she watched him. She was keenly aware of her thundering heartbeat, and it made her even more anxious than she already was. Had she always been so nervous around Levi? No, she was certain it was just because… because it had been so long… It was strange to think that she had only spent a year with Levi, and five years away from him.

"No," Levi said. His voice was low, empty of emotion, and so soft she had to close her eyes. "Don't call me that."

Mikasa nodded. She took a deep breath, and she lifted her fist from her heart to reach behind her. She tugged the ribbon from her hair, and felt the tight braid loosen around her shoulders. Her hair tumbled against her cheeks, and she hesitantly reached up, sliding the red ribbon around Levi's bicep. He made no move to stop her, but merely watched, just as his fellow soldiers watched with a mixture of awe and confusion as she gripped his arm with both hands. She pressed the paper she'd been clutching against his upper arm, and tied the ribbon into a bow around it.

"I need you to promise," Mikasa said, pulling the ribbon taut, "that you won't die today."

"Don't be stupid," Levi said. His eyes never left her face. "I'll be back. We have a lot to talk about."

"Promise me," Mikasa said. She could feel herself growing desperate, and she squeezed Levi's arm as she bowed her head. "Please. I need you to say it."

"Fine." Levi's jaw tightened. "I promise I won't die today."

Mikasa exhaled, and her body relaxed. She stared at the red ribbon, and she nodded, her hair curtaining her face. "Then I'll see you soon," Mikasa said. She was surprised when he took her hand, and nodded, his face turning out toward the gate. His hand moved from her hand to the ribbon, and then finally to the note she had stuck in the bow.

She turned away, not wanting to be around when he read it. She cut through the stationary horses, tucking her loose black hair behind her ears and taking a deep breath. She began walking slowly back to where Eren and Armin were. She saw that they had moved closer, and were coming to meet her. She saw Eren throw his arms into the air, which she read as, "What the fuck was that, Mikasa?" She waved at him, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off her chest.

"Mikasa!"

Levi's voice had her freezing in her tracks. She watched Armin and Eren freeze as well, their expressions blooming with shock. Mikasa whipped around, her hair smacking against her face. She was reminded that Eren had once told her that it was too long. Perhaps he was right. She pushed it out of her eyes, and blinked down at Levi as he very swiftly approached her. He was in a hurry, and she could sense it in the way he moved, in the murmurs and the confused words that burst through the crowd. She couldn't help but be stunned by how suddenly very small he looked. Levi seemed to have the same stunned revelation as he stared up at her.

"You've grown," he said. She knew he had said it without thinking, by the alarmed look in his eyes.

"Yes," Mikasa said. She glanced at the restless Survey Corps, and she nodded. "That tends to happen with time."

"You're a shit eater, you know that," Levi said. He was staring at her, and she knew he wanted to say something. She knew it was about her note, and she couldn't help but smile a little. He looked away for a few moments, his face turning back toward the front of the mass of soldiers. Mikasa saw a blonde man looking at them, his eyes watching them with an inscrutable sort of wisdom to them. She could sense it even from the distance, and it unnerved her. "I have to make this quick, or Erwin will piss himself from having to wait."

The name prickled Mikasa's memory. "Erwin?" Mikasa blurted. Her mind drew back to the repetitive words she had found in Levi's old room. Kill Erwin. Shock had her by the throat as she tried to put the pieces together.

"Yeah." Levi shook his head. "We can talk about him later." He reached up and grasped her by the shoulders, pulling her head down so it rested against his shoulder. She thought that her legs might give out as she stared ahead of her, her lips pressing against the fabric of his green cloak. Her eyes were wide, and her arms felt heavy as she wrapped them around his torso. He took her hand, and she felt the crumpled note dig into her skin as he squeezed her knuckles. She understood what the return of the note meant. And she smiled into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. It felt warm to have a family. And it felt warm to be loved.

Levi pulled back first, his hand brushing against her bowed head, and he mussed her hair gently. It made her feel a bit like a child, but she was too happy to care. He took a step back.

"Thank you, Mikasa," he said, his soft voice drifting as he took another step back. She raised her head, and she almost laughed.

Mikasa smiled tremulously, tears building inside her eyes as he turned away from her, and she watched him pause for just a moment when she said, "Don't."