Chapter Text
Levi dreams. It is of beasts and peeling walls and skies so bright they could blind you. He dreams of of soldiers of white and green, charging towards his enemies. A proud white stallion. He dreams of his best friend’s trampled bodies. Bloody, lifeless remains. His fault.
Levi wakes with a start. There are no curtains on the lofted windows so with a quick glance he knows it can’t be later than midnight. The moon is peaked among the apex of the skies, casting an eerie glow on those walls. There is an insistent pounding in his chest, a reminder of his humanity. It is too loud in his ears. A cool sweat sticks his stringy hair to his forehead, beginning to cake his nape.
Every night is like this.
Every night since he chose to stay here. With the enemy.
His socked feet thump against the footboards as he gets out of bed, pulling the cotton sheet back over the mattress. He tucks the fabric under and presses his hands against the damp surface. He’d need this cleaned, again, come morning; his own remanent making him sick to his stomach.
Erwin’s office is just down the hall. Levi is sure his living arrangement was done purposefully. He didn’t imagine the squad leader doing anything without reason. Each word and movement thought and rethought. The calculation of someone who’s been listened to all his life, but not without judgement.
Levi knocks twice.
It takes a moment, but surely, “Come in.”
Levi pushes open the door, and it groans on it’s hinges. He closes it behind him and leans against the surface. It’s a humble space. Filthy, but not cluttered. There is a single window on the wall parallel to the door, facing a small food stand and rows of townhouses. There is a bookshelf on the next wall, floor to ceiling and overflowing with novels whom are caked with dust. The chandelier hands down in glassy tendrils, off now, and Erwin’s face is illuminated solely with warm candlelight. It doesn’t do much for his eye bags.
On the other wall is a couch, and a small coffee table, tea rings dotting the brown surface. Erwin is at his desk, in front of the window, fat pipe wedged between shaking fingers.
“What’s wrong wit’ your hand.” Levi says, in place of a greeting.
“Hello, Levi.” Erwin does not look up from the papers he is trifling through. The best reader of the scouts, he is, stuck with most of the paperwork. He claims to enjoy it, Levi believes no one could truly enjoy this type of work. “The physician says it has something to do with stress, or not not enough sleep, I reckon I just need to put a rest on the Brandy.”
It is meant as a joke but neither of them are particularly comical men. (In the corner of the desk the Brandy sits, untouched.)
“Duntcha reckon that’ll mess up your work? I figure wit somethin’ like that you’d gotta file for disability.” Levi kicks off the door, crossing his arms.
“You’d have to.”
“What?”
Erwin looks up from the desk, pressing the spectacles up his hooked nose. “You’d have to file for disability. And, no, it doesn’t affect me on a daily basis. I didn’t even realize, until you crudely mentioned it. Thank you, Private.”
Levi can’t help but scowl at the name. A subtle reminder of hierarchy. A reminder that here, he wasn’t Levi Ackerman. He was but Levi, an ill-mannered, bottom of the barrel runt.
“What? Don’t like the nickname?”
“You’re a fool.”
“My bad. I thought it was quite the jest.” Erwin takes a drag of the pipe, and slouches against his desk chair. His thick fingers work into his hair, ruffling it all out of place. It falls in soft blonde tendrils against his face. He looks much older, here, with the low light and tobacco smoke.
Levi crosses one leg against the other. It’s merely stupid conversation, but his heart is out of his ears. “What’re you working on so late anyway?”
"Filing papers from Sina. Believe it or not, sending us off to our deaths includes a hell of a lot of paperwork. Would you like to help?" Of course Levi doesn't want to. But even if Erwin is used to this now, their nightly visits, he still takes comfort in feeling like there was some other purpose.
"Fine." There's two matching office chairs seated in front of the desk, and Levi takes home in one of them. He leans against the thick back, plush velvet cushion soothing against the scratchy hairs at the base of his neck. "What I gotta do?"
Erwin holds up a cream envelope. "See this here? The red ink is the date, and the blue is where it is from. This one is from Councilman Heorge. I want them in order, by date, and by person. If we are to keep from our funding getting cut, there are names we need to remember. Make sense?"
Levi's stomach drops, slightly, at this proposition. But he'd rather die than say it. "Yeah I got it," and he rips the letter from out of Erwin's hand. The writing is in cursive, because of course it is. His eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the paper, eyeing the red ink. Numbers are simple. Numbers he knows- the same in every language. A two, and a four. Twenty-four. He peers down at the already formed piles on the desk. Belatedly, he realizes he will also be working upside down.
"Will this arrangement work well enough for you? You can move this to the couch, if you rather." Erwin is looking at him with a quizzical expression, eyebrows turned down in a thick furrow.
"I got it just fine." Levi snaps, putting the letter into a pile. He takes a new one from the lot, squinting at the smudged ink. He can tell the date just fine, this time around it is only a single number- four. Simple, practice. Fourth of... 02, 842. He knows the latter is the year. Obviously. But 02? Does that not mean twenty? Surely, there could have been some sort of mistake..
"Is everything quite alright, Private?" Erwin has not taken his eyes off of him. Mortifyingly, Levi cannot find his words. Erwin will most definitely believe him to be simple.
"Quite," Levi grimaces. "One of your funders, musta made a mistake. Is it the fourth or the twentieth?" Levi turns the card, for the older to see.
Erwin adjusts his reading glasses. "I do not see such mistakes. It had to have been sent, no? Let me take a closer look," The man is quiet on further inspection. And there it is again, that puzzled look. Erwin glances up from the envelope, and Levi cannot help but raise his chin and let his eyes fall away.
"Levi. Are you literate?"
Levi splutters. "The fuck kind of question is that, now? Of course I am."
Erwin holds the envelope back to him, with a look of apprehension. "Who is this mailed by? Can you tell me?"
He grabs the note. "It's by Sire, Byeo.. M-m-men.. Bomen.." Levi struggles, shaking his head, "Are you making a mockery of me. Is that what this is?! Shame you, Smith."
"You can't read." Erwin finally seems to have come to a conclusion.
"Fuck you." Levi says, matter-of-factly.
"I have offended you. It was not my intention. I understand your.. circumstance. Still. You will be the savior of the Scouts. This, I believe, without a shadow of a doubt. This is merely a temporary setback." Erwin stares at him in earnest. Levi cannot find it in himself to be cross, the flattery making his chest warm and his cheeks redden. He did not understand really what Squad Leader Erwin Smith had in store for him, but it was obvious- despite everything, he was held in high regard by the man. Even if... "My father was a professor. You will meet me, daily, and we can work through this."
Levi sniffs, feeling wholly demeaned. "I don't need-"
"On the subject, how are you with writing? Arithmetic?"
"Erwin," Levi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I never went to school."
Erwin's face relaxes into a cross of pity and awareness. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh. Not everyone is as privileged as you damn upsiders."
Erwin silent for a few moments. For a moment Levi suspects he is done speaking, and he was dismissed for the night. But, alas, "Say, Levi, would you like to play a game with me?"
"I don’t like games." Levi mutters, albeit hesitantly.
Erwin smiles at this. "No, I think not. You’ve not enjoyed anything in your life— have you, Levi?"
To this he is rendered speechless.
"Humor me, will you? Please."
Levi stares him in the eyes. For a second he wonders if this is one of Erwin’s ill-mannered list, but the look in his eyes is completely serious. Deep blue meeting steel grey. With a shrug, Levi agrees. "Fine."
"It’s behind you, beneath the coffee table. Don’t mind the dust." Erwin looks pleased with himself.
Surely enough underneath the coffee table is a box, caked thick with dust. Levi doesn’t know what it is. When he turns Erwin is half-assedly shoving the arranged papers into the filing cabinet, and the rest he shoves to the side. Levi tsks at his messiness, setting the box down. "What is it?"
"Ever heard of chess?" Erwin’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at the box. Levi doesn’t understand the appeal of the filthy thing.
"Not really." Levi admits.
"My father taught me as a boy. Every son should be taught this game, I reckon. It’s more than just a game, this here. It’s about skill, intellect. My favourite part is how chess is a metaphor ‘a life." Erwin sets up the board as he speaks. They’re funny shaped things, made of polished marble of sorts. There’s two of everything, and a whole lotta little guys. Erwin sets them up all in a specific place— has Levi wondering how he remembers all this.
"Of life?"
"Chess is a draw. Picture a perfect worl’, where everyone has the same pieces. The same moves, the same amount of squares on their side. If you play perfect, it’d end in a draw, no? But one mistake, one move you don’t think of long enough, and the scales tip. You lose. That’s called a checkmate. Game over."
"So how do I win, then?" Levi questions, leaning forward on his knees. The board is now finished. Two rows of white pieces sit in front of him, and the same in dark brown in front of Erwin.
"Easy. You eliminate the king, and the whole kingdom falls apart. War, is the game, Levi."
Levi’s brows raise at this. "And here I was thinkin’ we wanted to escape damn war."
Erwin smiles down at his hands softly. He ages again. "At least in this I can control it, to some degree."
There’s a comfort in that, the two of them relish in.
"..I see."
Erwin teaches him how to play as they go along. Levi starts to take a liking to it, chess. They play until the sun rises over the rooftops, casting a warm glow on the checkered board. Even playing against a beginner Erwin took his time with each and every movement, seeming to look play after play in the future. This game was about outcomes. And with every move dozens more opened in it's wake. That lesson, that each move mattered equally- more than what meets the eye, was the hardest for Levi to grasp.
"Enough of this now, Levi. It's breakfast." Erwin says with finality once voices begin to ring behind the door. Neither of them are rested, and it will cost them today.
Levi grunts in acknowledgement, putting back down the castle he was about to move. "Duty calls, I suppose."
"I suppose it does. From one war to the next."
"Right."
It's awkward now, between them. Levi knows the conversation is over, but he's not sure if that's a dismissal or to await instruction. Neither come.
"We should play again," He blurts, and almost smacks a hand over his traitorous lips. "Sometime again."
"I would like that. Of course, you don't need a reason to seek my company. You are my duty."
A sour tang fills his mouth at Erwin's clinically. He supposes the latter was trying to be polite, but it just made it all seem so prosthetic. Like: you are my chore. I have to take care of you. Like a mutt more than human.
"I have to clean my sheets." Levi mutters, standing to his feet. Roll call would be any minute surely.
"I have business to attend to with the Garrison men this morning. There should be nothing bigger than drills today. I want to hear of no complaints in my absence. Can I trust you?" Erwin is rubbing his forehead as he refers to the volatile efforts of Levi while still very new. His crude remarks to higher-ups and violence to others in his group.
"They don't like me Erwin." Levi sighs.
Erwin shakes his head. "They just don't understand."
"Will they ever?"
"The way I see it, they don't need to. You'll do just fine, I reckon. Everyone'll come around. They always do- even if they don't understand. Fancy a squad of your own one day?"
Levi barks a laugh out at this. "Like they'd ever listen to someone like me."
Erwin smiles, somewhat. "We're all the same."
"Smith, the Undergrounders gone mis-" And the door flies open, laying wake to a thickly bearded man. Pyxis. "Ah. There he is."
Erwin nods politely. "Let's not call him that here, it's unsightly. Levi's got a name."
"Right. Yeah. You missed roll, kid. What's going on here?"
Erwin saves his pride. "I just wanted a word. We're finished here. You are dismissed, Private."
Back with the names. Levi kisses his teeth. "Alright." And the two of them are out of the door.
The only proof of them two being there that night at all, the chess board on the desk.