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He’d turned up again.
Like he had several times before, Captain Levi had arrived at one of their several orphanages without word or warning.
This wasn’t amiss in and of itself; he would often come and visit the many children they’d spent so much time and effort to save. Or he would simply come to visit her to hear how things were going and give her updates on his end, telling her all about what her old squadmates were up to and making her feel like she was still involved the way she used to be. Historia always appreciated those visits the most and looked forward to them with more impatience than she expected.
But this wasn’t like one of his usual social calls.
There had been a number of times when he would suddenly turn up and just get to work. Without so much as a word in greeting nor look of acknowledgement, he’d pick up an axe and start chopping firewood. Other times, he would pick up a scythe and cut the grass or carry bags of grain to the nearby mill. Some days, he might pick up a hammer and nails to fix some broken element or other she hadn’t even been aware of.
At the end of the day, if he decides to stay, she will find him sitting quietly on the porch, staring blankly in the distance or at the kids if they were still outside. He always has the same blank look on his face, whether he is looking at nothing or at the children. But Historia can tell when he’s paying attention to them at play by the subtle softness in his eyes and how some of the stress lines on his brow become subdued.
It is those times she’ll tenderly tell him that it is a wonderful thing they have done here — what they have built. He won’t respond to it, at least not verbally, but his face will soften almost imperceptibly. Historia will then bring him a cup of tea and sit silently in the chair beside him, mostly because she doesn’t know what to say.
She knows something bothers him because he will barely say more than a few words during those times. Captain Levi doesn’t talk much to begin with, usually content with listening to her do most of the talking and adding small comments where he felt it necessary or required. Historia could immediately tell the difference in his mood simply by looking at him now.
Even the children had picked up on this change in the captain. They knew to leave him alone when he was like this.
Historia wanted to help him with whatever it was that brought this… melancholy over him, but she was uncertain about how to help him or even bring the matter up. So she tries her best to take care of him and make him feel as comfortable as she’s able to any time he arrives in one of these moods.
He always leaves just as quietly as he shows up, without telling her or any of the orphanage workers, only to return unannounced again some weeks later like clockwork. And then the cycle starts all over again.
Occasionally, he’ll do nothing. Those are the days which worry her the most. It’s so unnatural to see the captain lethargic. Though most days, he’ll make himself busy. The funny thing about it was that he never asked if there was anything that needed to be done; he just seemed to instinctively know the moment he climbed off his horse. And every time, Historia will have a cup of freshly brewed tea ready for him when he’s done working. As they sip their tea, she’ll tell him that she’s made sure his room has been made ready for him to stay the night, but she can always tell the bed hasn’t been slept in when she goes to check the next morning.
She knew he had trouble sleeping, but she’d always hoped he’d be able to sleep better here than he did at the various military compounds he usually stayed at. She wished he felt comfortable enough to rest here in this beautiful little haven they had built together…
Her wishes were crushed every time she went to his room to find his bed cold and untouched. She couldn’t say why the sight of a simple bed made her so sad it sometimes choked her up.
No matter how much time passed, no matter what she did, it never seemed to make a difference for him.
And now he was back again.
Levi sat outside on the porch, staring at the torrential mid-autumn rain. He had shown up the other day and hadn’t really done anything in the two days he’d been here.
The weather had been too bad for Historia or any of the volunteers to get any work done outside, and they hadn’t let the children out to play for fear of getting sick. Not that any of them had wanted to go out in the inclement downpour, anyway. Instead, Historia had been doing menial chores inside the building or helping out in the kitchen, constantly throwing glances out the windows to see how the captain was doing.
Every time she did, she would find him sitting in the exact same position as last time she checked. This in particular bothered her. Seeing him this stagnant made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t properly understand.
She had no idea when he’d come inside last night, or even if he had at all. He was already sitting outside when she woke up this morning, and knowing how much trouble he had sleeping, she wouldn’t be surprised if the stubborn mule of a man had stayed out there all night.
This had to change.
The sun had set a while ago, though it was difficult to tell the difference between night and day with the murky grey clouds blotting out the sun. The rain was not letting up, and still he did not come inside. Historia considered him from the other side of the windowpane, holding tightly onto the broom she’d been sweeping the floor with. After a moment of deliberation, Historia leaned the broomstick against the wall and walked over to the entrance. Levi didn’t turn to look at her when she opened the door.
The chill of the autumn evening hit her the moment she cracked open the door, causing her to shiver. She had no idea how he managed to just sit there like this.
“Captain? Won’t you come inside?”
Levi didn’t respond. He didn’t even pay her any attention.
He wasn’t ignoring her; she was used to being ignored, and this wasn’t what that felt like. No, he genuinely hadn’t noticed her step out on the porch or speak to him. Taking a closer look at his face, she noticed the glazed-over quality in his eyes, staring unseeingly at the dark, sodden field in front of the house.
Feeling worried, Historia walked over to him and touched his hand on the armrest.
“Levi?” She called his name gently.
His hand was freezing cold. He was only wearing a thin button-up shirt and some hemp trousers, so she shouldn’t be surprised to find him cold, but it was worse than she’d expected. She nearly recoiled at the touch but managed to catch herself before she did, maintaining contact with his hand.
His eyes regained some focus at her touch, and he moved his head slowly as if she’d called his name from somewhere far away, stirring him from a dream.
He looked at her with the same stoic expression he always wore, steely and self-assured, though something about it suggested that he still wasn’t all there.
You’d be hard-pressed to believe anything was amiss with him from the look of his face alone, but Historia felt it in the way her heart clenched inside her chest.
“Won’t you come inside?” she repeated in an uncertain whisper. “The children have all been put to sleep and it’s cold out. You’re cold.”
He let out a long exhale, as if he had been holding his breath for too long, and nodded.
“I’ll make you a nice cup of tea,” she said, still holding onto his icy hand, ”get the warmth back in you.”
Levi was completely unresistant as she guided him by the hand into the orphanage’s living room and ushered him gently into one of the armchairs positioned in front of the hearth. She quickly picked up one of the many woollen blankets stored in the chest in the corner of the room and draped it across his lap, tucking it in as best she could. Before she headed to the kitchen, she threw two more logs onto the fire and furiously stoked it to get it roaring. She knew she was stressing, but it didn’t feel like it was anywhere near warm enough in here for him.
As she strode past him, she placed what she hoped was a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.
“I’ll be right back with our tea, captain.” She didn’t know why she reverted to using his title again, maybe because it was what she was most used to, but she regretted the formality of it the moment the word left her lips.
“Just… just sit here and relax. I’ll be right back.”
She hurried into the kitchen and filled the teapot with water.
As she darted around the room from cupboard to cupboard, she worried about how cold he’d been. She couldn’t recall him being so cold before, in fact, he always seemed to radiate heat off his body. Almost like a titan, in a strange way. She’d covered him in a thick blanket in front of the fireplace, but what if that wasn’t enough? Maybe she should have drawn him a bath instead…
Placing the teapot onto the oven, Historia stopped to catch her breath and sighed. No, drawing him a bath would have taken too long to get ready and he needed to get warm fast. Sitting him down in front of the fire was the best thing to do. Once he had a cup of tea in his hands, then everything would be alright. He’d be back to normal.
Right?
Peeking out from the kitchen doorway, she stared at the back of his chair. She could just barely glimpse his profile from here, staring into the dancing flames in front of him.
She found it worrisome that he hadn’t spoken a single word yet, even though she’d been talking directly to him. He usually spoke a little bit when he was like this, at the very least he’d reply with some simple answers when spoken to.
Historia’s musings were interrupted by the soft whistling from the teapot. She broke away from the kitchen entrance and poured the hot water into two cups. She allowed herself a moment to gather her thoughts and feelings while the tea steeped on the table.
With the tea ready, she walked back into the living room. The crackling fireplace still held Levi’s attention and he didn’t look up at her until she was holding the teacup in front of him. He accepted the cup but he didn’t drink. Instead, he cradled it in both his hands. It must have felt good for his fingers, stiff from the cold, to envelope the steaming cup.
Historia sat down in the armchair next to him and took a tentative sip from her own cup as she observed him.
She felt some relief wash over her when she saw that some colour was returning to his face and hands, but he still looked distant as he stared at the teacup in his lap.
“Aren’t you going to try the tea?” she tried. “I’d like to hear what you think of it.”
His arm rose slowly, like a person waking up in the morning who isn’t sure if it’s worth the effort. He took a silent sip and his eyes closed in apparent appreciation. It was the first real emotion she’d seen from him these past two days and it made a tentative smile grow on Historia’s face.
“That’s got to be the worst cup of tea I've had in my life,” he said in a familiar drone.
Historia’s heart skipped a beat. Those were the first words he’d spoken since arriving here. She desperately grabbed onto the tiny handhold it offered on the otherwise blank wall of his silence.
“Well I'm sorry ,” she said with mock offense. “I was rather in a hurry making that tea so you’d get warm again after sitting outside for goodness knows how long. I swear, you’re as stubborn as a mule sometimes. Such a typical man .”
Levi’s lips twitched into a tiny semblance of a smile and blew some air out his nose. It wasn’t quite a snort, but it was enough to show that she’d managed to amuse him, at least a little.
Historia studied his profile as she let him have a moment. She observed the tiny dimple that developed on his cheek from the upturn of his lips and she followed the movement of his lip as it fell back down into a neutral frown. He placed his teacup on the end table next to the chair, barely touched after only a single sip.
When it became clear that he wouldn’t say anything else, Historia dared ask the question that had been bugging her these past two days; the question that had been bugging her ever since Levi’d turned up the first time with his melancholy.
“What’s on your mind, Levi?”
Leaning over her armrest, she extended her hand and placed it gently on top of his. He turned his head slightly to glance at their hands. There was a hint of surprise in his eyes, just barely visible within the grey shroud of his irises. She hoped the simple gesture conveyed her worry for the man who had swiftly grown to become her best friend.
“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she said in a choked whisper. She surprised herself at the emotion that came through in her voice, and she felt the familiar pressure of tears pushing at the corners of her eyes.
‘Damn it, not now,’ she thought, forcing them back. ‘This isn’t the time for me to cry.’
The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty for not talking to her. She just wanted him to know that she was there for him and that she cared .
Her stinging eyes followed the bob of his Adam’s apple and she counted the furrows in his brow as it creased.
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he kept his head bowed. Historia had known the man long enough to recognise when his mind was racing trying to find the right words.
Some point on the hearth held his focus, and for a long while, neither of them spoke. Still holding onto the back of his hand, Historia began to caress it with her thumb in gentle movements. He used his free hand to absentmindedly rub at a crease in his trousers, and Historia’s eyes were inexplicably drawn to the tiny motion.
“I don’t…”
Historia looked back up at his profile, his face a blank rictus of thought. He worried delicately at his lower lip, and her eyes followed the gentle nibbling motion of his teeth. All his walls were up, like they had been for as long as she’d known him, barricaded in with his thoughts in solitude.
It was something Historia was intimately familiar with, as well, in her long past.
Levi had always been the person they all looked up to for his unwavering strength, of both mind and body. He was a rock of calm in the turbulent existence of the Survey Corps where few things ever went to plan. If a man such as him was even capable of falling to pieces, this was what it probably looked like.
He let out a tired, yet even sigh.
“I don’t know what to say to you sometimes. To any of you.”
Historia understood. She understood the struggle of upholding the appearance of a role all too well. She gave his hand a tight squeeze.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered. “I’m always going to be here.”
He turned his head to look at her, really look at her, for the first time since he arrived. Ever since she joined the Survey Corps all those years ago, she’d constantly heard people comment on how terrifying and dead Captain Levi’s eyes were, but they were wrong. Right now, Historia felt like she could drown in those cloudy oceans.
He slowly turned his hand around in hers to curl his fingers around it.
Historia didn’t know how long they sat there in silence that night clasping each other’s hand, but it didn’t matter. She would be there as long as he needed her.
The rain had almost subsided the following morning, the clouds squeezing out their last few drops over the orphanage and surrounding fields as they slowly dissipated, revealing the beautiful blue sky behind them.
Captain Levi had eventually fallen asleep in the chair last night, and while Historia would have preferred it if he’d gone to his bed, she counted the fact that he slept at all as a win.
Of course, being Captain Levi he’d woken up bright and early and was already moving about by the time she woke up. She’d been happy to see him up and moving again, and it seemed like the dolefulness of the past few days had dissipated. It almost made her wonder if what had happened the night before had just been a dream.
But she knew better.
He might be back to normal now, but she still didn’t know what was bothering him. Without knowing how to fix whatever he was struggling with, he would only come back later in the same condition.
But he was back to the old Captain Levi again, and after a quick breakfast, he declared that he would be heading out again.
Historia, deciding to see him off, escorted him out of the house and over to the small stable situated next to the orphanage. She stood by the wall, watching him meticulously tack his horse, and followed him as he guided the black mare out of the stable and onto the road.
Putting his left foot into the stirrups, Levi slung his right leg over the horse’s back in a smooth, practised motion.
Now fully mounted, Historia had expected him to ride off with only a polite nod in her direction. Instead, he remained still and stared down the muddy dirt road with a pensive look. Historia stood beside the horse, smiling quietly up at him as she waited for him to gather whatever scattered thoughts he had running through his mind.
Then he turned his head and looked down at her.
“Thank you,” he said after a moment of seeming to deliberate on what to say.
The two simple words took Historia by surprise. Captain Levi didn’t often express gratitude, but she knew he was always sincere when he did. She still didn’t know exactly what she’d done to help, but for the time being she decided it was best not to think about it.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, equally as simple.
They looked at each other for a bit longer, and feeling like she should add something more, she said, “Make sure you come back soon. The children always look forward to your visits.” She paused again. Then she decided to say what she really wanted to. “And so do I.”
He gave her a look then, which she was unable to adequately describe. It was one part melancholic, though not the same as what he’d been displaying the night before, and one part hopeful. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but that look made her break eye contact with him, staring down into the brown mud.
“I will,” he assured her. Then without another word, he rode off.
Historia remained standing on the road, even as the sounds of waking children began to erupt from the house behind her, watching his form grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
Historia lamented that she still didn’t know what tormented her old superior or how to actually help him, but she knew she would always be there to provide him with a place to rest whenever he needed it.