Chapter Text
I.
Year 854
Burning…
It was burning.
It was a suffocating sensation on her chest. Pounding so evenly. She could already taste the salt of the raindrops on her lips, feel the electrifying coldness that seeped on her clothes, or the puncturing thuds on her skull the gloomy weather brought. But nothing of that can alleviate the grief in her heart. She had come here to sweep the silence she had wanted — to clear her restless mind, to drop the flowers she’d tended with, to whisper a brief prayer but it was all an alibi in the end. Instead, she found herself under the torturous rain, weeping, but her cries remained voiceless around the catacombs.
The sky mourned with her with its quietness, but the roar of thunder reminds her of pain.
She must have perfected the skill of being numb, she realized, of being able to deceive others that she carries little to no care for them. She might be just good at pretending, but she’d be downright lying to herself if she doesn’t. No, — she cares for them. More than she could give herself, more than her countenance could project. Maybe, she mastered the skill of pretending. That mask of apathy. To cover up once again the losses that scarred her permanently.
Mikasa closed her eyes with much force, holding whatever venomous urge to spill her true intention. Her honest sorrow. Whether her tears or the droplets of rain streamed down her cheeks, she can’t tell. Tears. One thing equipped to weakness. Weakness . A mirror she dreaded, but she bowed her head in surrender.
For once, she let her mask crumble.
Mikasa lifted her scarf at the dip of her chin, halting in mid-action to realize its uselessness. For the warmth it cradles had sent an uproar of chill on her neck, then at her nape, down to her spine. Similar to the gruesome thought that this is only the beginning — only a start of a revolution. She’d already lost someone important, Sasha. Family. Her family. And what more in the middle of this war, or at the end of it if ever there is. What more could she lose? And how much more does she need to let go.
Eren…
She could have bolted to laughter, flashed a chuckle of denial in the cover of her agony when the rain stopped abruptly. The same with her cries that she could no longer shed a tear when she composed herself. A shadow caved over her. Ironically, she thought idly; the heavens had matched with her emotions.
“Your pure stupidity will be the worst of you.”
A heartbeat.
Another.
And another.
Like a ghost, void of occurring footfall, Levi stands beside her. Shielded an umbrella over her crooked — frail — body, even if it means taking half of the pondering rain of bullets under his skin. The downpour hadn’t ceased. The sky’s still crying, Mikasa noticed, crueler than before, but she’d benefited more in the cover more than him. He didn’t care. Disgust would have flickered a change on his features. Perhaps, an appearance of a deep knot on his thin brows by the sight of the murky ground under the soles of his boots, the sensation of dampness on his clothes, or even the merciless weather that does only gave him dissatisfaction. Honestly, he doesn’t give a damn now. He should have left her alone too, for he is no good in consoling people as much as confronting delicate sentiments.
Walking away… leaving should be an easier task. An easier option. He could have done it without any remorse, without any entangled flow of emotion like he'd done a thousand times but standing there, not doing anything in return as he watches her, accepting her fragileness, he can’t endure.
He took a step forward and drop on his knees in front of Sasha’s grave, integrating under the full plummet of the harsh rain. Mikasa watched him, holding firmly on the stem of the umbrella he’d left her with. The whisper of the wind speaks of solitude. Still, like a river, she saw him place down a bouquet, just beside the roses she had meticulously left at the corner.
They were white lilies.
Levi’s lids flutter.
The scenery reminded him of a perfect tragedy. It was under this same rebellious storm he had lost two of the people he loved. It was this same circumstance he had choked a cry he’d never believe himself worth doing, the same aftermath where he had bargained to the gods, a life for life when he didn’t believe something as divine exists. It was the same day he felt such rage he can’t control — that ended up to regret. He blamed himself. Countless times.
The same thing Levi doesn’t want Mikasa to suffer.
“It’s not your fault.” He finally says, almost quietly as he pushed to his feet.
The distance between them drastically narrowed when he faced her, cowering under the shade they shared. Against his control, he let his gaze drop down, not on her lips but through the stain of tears on her cheeks he had daringly studied. Mottled by something close to heartache in the depths of her eyes, he’d accepted whatever vulnerability she had ceased to bury and hide. But he saw it.
Before it could even disappear.
“It’s not your fault,” Levi repeated. “Neither mine. Neither anyone else’s.”
Mikasa wished he should have pretended — pretended not to see her, pretended not to hear her outcries. She must have swallowed everything that wounded her and would have steeled her heart cruelly into iron and stone more than before. She could have done it, successfully as she pursued, if only weren’t for his insisting presence that tells her she is made of flesh, too. She must have masked a peal of laughter once again for everybody says that the sole reason they were brought together was the familiar sew of their inhumane strength, their painted ability. Only she knew from a deeper perspective, it came from the birth of both of their tattered souls.
She was fragile… but so was he.
“The world is a beautiful place, Mikasa.”
Her gaze remained undisturbed, lips parting — closing in a beat, she followed. “Yet, cruel in its own ways.”
“Yes…” Levi nodded.
Shrouded with the face of mourn, he let his eyes dart through the endless graveyard, and with a sudden heaviness that resided on his chest, he allowed the emotion to linger. More than necessary. More than he could permit the growing misery.
“Pain flickers to suffering. Suffering burns to agony. Death,” Pausing for a while, he turned back to her. “Remains as death.”
“How do you do it,” Her feathery voice knocked on his ears, but something furrowed at the end he can’t identify. “Moving on?”
His mind wandered.
“Asking me that question would be no substantial use.” Levi honestly answered while the sky flourished to a flour shade. The burrowing pellets of rain were deduced to droplets. “Moving on… is not something that is practiced. It requires courage.” He said, sparing her a glance. “But I know you have an ample of that stored in you, Mikasa. Only then, you can permit your heart to do what is to be done.”
“Have you,” She asked. Trailed . “Have you let your heart decide?”
“For once.”
An ache of a smile almost — nearly made past his lips. But it was gone before she could even determine the cause of it but Levi allowed her. He let her pass his façade, his barricade then he opened himself like an open book and welcomed her without any tainted repercussions. Mikasa ventured the unsteady waters, though she expected a crash of tidal wave in return, to drown her, to steal her breath and pull her into the cunning abyss of darkness, she found out she had crossed the ocean harmless. When she did feel the grinds of sand under her feet, setting an anchor on the shore, it was a rare privilege to see something other than the stoic apathy in his eyes. She’d seen something grave, something equivalent to the struggles she had faced.
Or, a cripple at the edges.
“It cost me a lot. Longing — I didn’t know I was carrying it for four years.”
He stared at her and he saw the anguish gnawing. One he can’t remove. One he can’t cure. Was it pity? A determined understanding? Or again, a sturdy connection they have unknowingly dwelled?
Perhaps, it was all.
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The rain disappeared, the wind’s howls dissipated and the skies opened with the darkness of the incoming dusk. Coming from a path by foot, the headquarters was already swimming in waves of burning oil lamps and torches in hind sights. The view itself had melted into a familiar warmth within Mikasa, it was because of the idea of belongingness, temporarily, yet she can call home. There were also the clatters of utensils at the far side, accompanied by the soft buzz of conversations that reminded them both of dinner.
Upon reaching the center aisle, before dispersing to their respective wings, Levi seemed to notice quite belatedly that he had missed a few steps. His pace had gone slow but he didn’t pause, didn’t stop — no, he wasn’t consumed by fatigue, the chill under his drenched clothes. He wasn’t greeted by hunger either. He watched her, watched her back as he silently trails behind, boots crunching up against gravel. The space on her neck where her dark locks end caught his attention for a brief second, and he recaptured how proud he was, confidently even, to call it his masterpiece that very day he’d given her that pixie cut. He might have moved to give her a clean undercut, again, an obvious similarity to his. Like how he usually, loyally, style his hair since he was a child, but he disregarded the idea shortly it dawned on him. It was a little absurd, a little foolish.
Levi should’ve headed to the other side, straight to his chambers, and let her wander in the east part of the hallways. Into her room. He didn’t move. His gaze dropped.
On her scarf.
“Mikasa.”
She turned around.
He didn’t say a word after.
“Do you want me to stay?” She asked. There’s a heartbeat. Another thud. The slipping silence caged in, she bottled up the bravery to finally say. “I will... when you let me.”
He felt stupidly stuck, indecisiveness bellowed a hole in his brain, and unbelievably for a few seconds, he just stood there, looking at her together with the moving shadows. She was patient, most of the time, but he had never received a stare that carried such quietness. Nearly comfortable, the silence palpated soothingly around the air that he can’t, as much, utter back a protest or a question. Even with the dimness of the light, she read the glow in his blank, sharp eyes. He nodded as an answer. Took a step back and trod towards the mouth of the west wing.
Accumulated by the stillness of the night, Mikasa followed.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
When Levi opened the door to his quarters and flicked a match to light two lamps, certain to cast its fair brightness, Mikasa took a short reminiscing to observe the place. First was the scent. It smelled like him, all right. A swift of tea, a pinch of mint, and the hallowing spread of soap combined. It was closely exhilarating, almost incomprehensible for someone to maintain an environment this sophisticated and clean . But she wasn’t surprised anymore, not the least.
He closed the door behind them, gently not to corrupt any peace she had found when she stepped inside, or if she ever did. But the sight engrossed a playful interest in him, a tickle, a hue — it was as if she’d been memorizing the exact placements of his belongings. Been studying the intricate details of changes every time he lets her in without any intention other than being associates. Or was she enthralled by the stretched-out cover of the bed? A single crease seems non-existent.
He thought of the latter.
“Take a shower and change.”
Mikasa turned in his direction.
“Now, brat,” Levi said. Gazed at her shortly then started parting through the drawers. “I’ll be using the common shower rooms, anyway.”
It was a fleeting moment when she heard the wooden door coming to a close. She hadn’t even parted any response; was it too obvious she was mesmerized by his quarters? She hoped he didn’t even barely notice. She was probably entertained by the space he owns to himself, compared to the unit they have shared with Sasha.
Oh.
Mikasa took in a shuddering breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Now, she knows why. She knows why she avoided being caved in that room, why she had suddenly loathed the peacefulness that she found delicately comforting before, and why she had preferred to stalk the corridors in the middle of the night than to accept the assurance of the bed or the warmth of the blankets can provide. Because everywhere she lingers, it reminds her of Sasha. Levi witnessed — she concluded, but he was good in keeping it to himself. He didn’t complain, didn’t shake her shoulders in the process of her slumber when he found her sleeping under his sheets in one of the nights. He had wondered why, of course. He left the headquarters that afternoon for an important meeting at the capitol, came back that same evening. He realized; he left his door unlocked.
For a certain reason, she’d be needing his presence.
Now, under the running shower, Mikasa discovered refuge in this very place.
Amongst the times he did, Levi saved her again.
Her feet faltered the exact moment she marched outside the bathroom. It wasn’t because of something she hideously saw that caused her inaction. It might be eventually the single thought that they — she — might have been treading a dangerous path after all. Mikasa knows it wasn’t much of a big deal; it wasn’t something she needed to overthink about, but by the sight of her clean clothes, neatly folded at the foot of the bed. The scarf hanging on one of the chairs to dry when she remembered she had disposed of it together with her soiled military uniform prickled a nerve she can’t quite paint. She was, at that point, unafraid to face her own apprehension, but what scared her the most is the backlash of emotions accompanied by those thoughts. Mikasa doesn’t often ask herself what, why, or how. She naturally goes with the flow, but not until she sat on the mattress, on the side of the bedtable were one of the lamps aglow she did wonder why can’t she just leave.
Tonight, that Levi had given her sufficient time to skim over her bearings.
She didn’t.
And she knows she had gone far too late when the soft hinge of the knob signifies his arrival.
Eyes adjusting under the lights, Levi halted mid-step. Her back facing him, he was drifted to oblivion. She was silent as an oak tree… so was he.
A dip on the bed from the added weight warned Mikasa that he had occupied the space across her. She didn’t pose a signal to welcome him. Enough was the silence that wrung between them.
There’s a sway of blankness in the air.
“Hange and I talked this morning.”
This wasn’t the first time she came here, encased within these four walls, or so, wasn’t the first time she slept under the spread of linens he seldomly used. He was beyond relieved, pleased, she was able to find solace with it when he found her peacefully tucked beneath the blankets, her complexion overthrows the whiteness of the sheets, a contrast on her ebony, raven locks. Beyond tranquility, he was fulfilled that she is able to discover peace in one of the activities he dreaded, sleeping. This wasn’t also one of those nights where they have to share only a few of their words and they would rely upon the lull of the room in return.
Unlike this nightfall, he had a purpose.
“I didn’t expect it would take a grueling persuasion. But she agreed — and she had already come to a decision.” He managed to take a glance at her. He turned away. “I considered it is right for you to first know.”
Mikasa listened.
Levi continued.
“I will be gone for a while.” He explained rather immaculately. “We know he can’t be contained anywhere inside these walls. Anywhere near Eren, so I’ll shoulder this precaution myself. I will be taking Zeke somewhere else.”
“Where?”
He heard her ask.
“Outside wall Rose.” Swallowing a lump in his throat, straining the bile on his tongue. He didn’t hesitate. “In the Forest of Giants.”
“Levi,”
“You can’t change my mind.”
There, he sensed it. A knock of breath under her nose. The fine clench of her jaw, and the trepidation in her stead. He wasn’t sure if it came from anger or stable uncertainty.
“I know that.”
“Then, what’s left for you to worry?”
He understands her turmoil. And it wasn’t only contained to the idea that separating both Ackerman wouldn’t guarantee security, stability. It would lead to a crisis. Mikasa understood, more than anyone that Levi needed to do what he knows was necessary. She has no right to object. No right to stash her rage. But it was Zeke and that place… He had lost his former squad to the female titan in that canopy of enormous trees. She had almost lost Eren twice there, too. It was a bad omen. Ill-fated.
“I can come with you.”
“No.” Levi pressed, quicker than he had anticipated. “You won’t be going anywhere. Not near Zeke. Not near that shit.”
He has decided to push through this mission. Certainly, without any tail from his circle of team. Certainly, without Mikasa.
He can’t risk it. He won’t.
“You have a responsibility here. I’m trusting you with the rest of the squad, Mikasa, and I suppose you should stick to that.”
“And I assume I have the duty to protect you too, have I?”
Her voice plucked a string in her ears that instant; she heard a thread of urgency she fruitfully tried not to show. But she failed altogether and now, she’s as if reflecting that distinguishable sense of protection — like how she did for Eren, over him. Over Levi.
“I’m your damn captain, your damn superior. Supposedly, I should be the one saying you should protect yourself first more than anyone, shouldn’t I?”
Levi twisted his body to meet her halfway, and she did the same.
He gazed at her, on her scar and back to the yearning in her eyes. Then, unsure if he could further narrow the space that separates them, he tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear ever delicately.
“You can’t protect everyone, Mikasa. Not even me.”
“I can if I try.”
Levi could have kissed her, not on the lips, but somewhere along the kneads of the lines of her evident vulnerability. He could have — should have, but his restraint is far abominable than the grappling desire to tend her wounds when he, himself, contained deeper cuts that had been turned into scars. He could have, Levi thought again in the shrouding palpable solitude when he submitted to faint surrender. He could have kissed her right and there when he had finally seen it. On her forehead to wane the forming creases, on the surface of her lids as she closes her eyes to calm the trembling beneath it, or just near, dauntingly near her lips, to suppress an incoming frown. He could have been allowed to drown in the sea of his greed.
Levi had done nothing any of that.
For he wasn’t sure himself, either.
“Foolish woman.” He falters, but a chuckle — a heap of air tumbled on his lips. “You didn't change a bit.”
Whatever this is, whatever they had, whatever this thing they shared — it was nothing but a reflection of despair. That’s what he believed, and will continue in believing. A mere result of hopelessness, a result of both of their shattered strength. Erwin’s gone, Eren’s drifting away, and the sorrow they were left with had rekindled into one, into a familiar connection neither they expected in return. Out of misery and hell combined, they believed they can heal each other. They are treading that path all right, but if their relationship is worthy to be linked into romance, to be called mutual affection — perhaps, love. That, he wasn’t sure.
“I will return,” The need to lay a feathering kiss had succumbed to retreat, instead, he let his own impulsion burn into touch.
Levi crooked a finger under her chin, slowly tipped it upwards to meet her stare with that same fervor. Wrapped around that known calmness. He could have pulled away, hindered himself before he could do anything reckless. Because this link they had formed is no more than a bitter root of their suffering, that’s what he says, or stupidly accepts.
But he realized, it was no longer a product of despair when Levi caressed a soft brush of his thumb on her scar as he desperately looks for an answer. He felt her warmth within his hold. Her lids fluttered to a close. Unmoving. Accepting all of his flaws in return. He already knew.
“And by the time I come back,” He says gently, quietly. “Be sure to stay alive, Mikasa.”
She looked at him at last, straight in the eye, at that pool of buried emotions.
In the end,
Will she lose him, too?
“He’s been found. Captain Levi… is alive!”