Chapter Text
About three hours before the sun rises, Levi pulls on his boots and climbs out of the barrack window.
The air is warm and balmy, even this late, like being trapped under a thick blanket. He shares his room with four other men, and they snore and sweat their way through the short, hot nights while Levi stares at the ceiling and grinds his teeth. There is some respite in fresh air and space.
He isn’t allowed to be out, but nobody will miss him. Unlike the MPs, the Scouts aren’t that concerned with intruders; they have nothing to rob, and why else would you sneak into the headquarters of a regiment that willingly charges into titan territory? Levi wonders idly about deserters. He wonders how far he could get beyond the gates before he was found.
He assumes his usual spot on the edge of the stable roof. It’s a calm and quiet night. He climbs the guttering and lands lightly on the wooden slats.
His eyes are bleary and his mind is like a storm drain; rushing, swelling, filled with detritus. He takes out his smallest knife and cleans his nails with it, gouging out the tiny reservoirs of grime until they’re pink all the way through. And then he keeps going until his fingertips are bloody.
Rain and mud. Blood and smoke. The crack-crunch of viscera between boulder incisors. Running out of time. Arriving too late. Moving too slowly. Ripping yourself to pieces for a shot at the sky.
We’re counting on you, Levi!
“You shouldn't be out after hours.” A deep voice chides.
The Captain approaches from the gates. His figure is dappled by the moonlight sliding between the tree branches above him. He is leading his horse to the stables. Levi has been so lost in memories he didn’t hear him coming.
Pathetic. You’re asking for an ambush if you’re so easily distracted.
He curls his hand into a fist so the blood doesn’t show.
“You gonna court-martial me?” His voice comes out hoarse, ripping inelegantly through the still air.
“I expected you to be intelligent enough to understand that rest is imperative to maintaining your strength. And therefore your efficacy.”
Yeah, my efficacy to you.
“And your brilliant brain doesn’t need rest too?”
“I’m flattered by your concern.”
“It isn’t concern. I’m calling you a hypocrite.”
The Captain looks...easy. He’s out of uniform, wearing instead a dark suit and formal shirt. His hair is, shockingly, less-than-perfect. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and he’s not wearing a tie. His overcoat is slung across his horse’s saddle. He looks composed, sober, but maybe a little tired. Easy isn't the right word, so Levi choses another; frayed.
“I’ve been in Sina on official business.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t appreciate being questioned by a subordinate.” He says, strangely strained, unusually irate. The Captain never rises to Levi’s bait. He never stoops to his level of disdain. This appears to occur to The Captain a second after it occurs to Levi. He sighs; imperceptible except for the slight dropping of his shoulders.
“Go to bed, Levi.” He says, defeated, and leads his horse into the stables. Levi frowns. He flexes his fingers and the dried blood cracks and flakes.
He slips from the roof silently and peers into the stable. The Captain is lit by a single gas lamp. He untacks his own horse; another unusual sight.
“What business have you had in the city? Another fat nobleman to get drunk with?”
“None of your concern.”
“A personal visit, perhaps? That would explain why you’re so cagey.”
The Captain’s jaw is tight. Levi feels a thrill at the thought of angering him.
“You got a girl over there? A secret family? Or perhaps just a whore? Do you run a gambling ring or something?”
“Levi. Go inside. Now.”
The Captain’s voice is cold. His eyes are cold as well; two icy lakes beneath large, lowered brows. Whatever magic he works on the fifteen-year-old recruits he is ordering to their deaths, it doesn’t work on Levi. He doesn’t scare Levi. Still. This level of unexpected anger is disconcerting.
Whatever. He can do what he likes. It would have been nice to have some ammunition against him, for once.
Levi turns and leaves without a backward glance. He washes his hands free of blood in the bath house and goes back to his bunk. He tries to sleep with the usual tirade of red and green and screaming behind his eyes. He might hear, a while later, the sound of footsteps in the captains’ corridor, the turn of a lock, the shutting of a door, but he thinks he could have imagined it.
000
“The goal is to establish a more permanent outpost, not to persevere further into unchartered territory. There will be no unnecessary risks taken. Our cadet intake has dropped by half since the disaster of last year’s outpost reconnaissance and we cannot afford to lose more soldiers. Therefore, I am clearing Captain Erwin’s long-range formation for standard implementation in all future expeditions.”
Commander Shadis offers him a cursory glance. Captain Miles pats him on the shoulder. He nods, keeping his expression neutral. To celebrate this victory outwardly would only go further to convince the commander that his ambitions of leadership are for personal glory, and not for the sake of humanity.
“I will be assigning three new soldiers to your squad, Erwin, including Levi. If he goes rogue again, I trust you to be able to handle it.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you.” This is not surprising news. Levi has been tossed from one squad leader to another under any excuse. He doesn’t work well with others. He follows his own instincts instead of the orders of his superiors. He kills with brutal efficiency, and no thought of his team. It was only a matter of time before Erwin would have to take responsibility for his own project.
“Other than that, it is just a question of equipment. As I’m sure you’re all aware, the materials necessary for establishing a permanent base in titan territory are extensive and expensive. Therefore, your focus is on training and preparation; we need to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. Myself and a few captains will be responsible for acquiring the funds needed for this mission. This could take anywhere from a month to half a year. These are our targets, people: drilling the soldiers so they could ride the formation in their sleep, and squeezing every last penny out of our official sponsors while still retaining respect. Is that clear?”
The table rings with ‘yes, sir’s. Shadis, framed by the window behind him, looks carved from stone.
Or a man already a corpse.
“Dismissed.”
The sound of chairs scraping heralds the end of the meeting. Erwin hangs back subtly, knowing that Shadis will want to speak with him.
“Erwin.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I meant what I said. Every last penny. You understand what an outpost could mean. We could finally put some respect on our name.”
“It will be a challenge, sir, but with proper planning, I believe it to be possible.”
“I ask too much of you already, I know that. There’s Scholtz and Gershin, older than you, more senior than you, but you have something they lack.”
“They resent me for it, sir.”
“They wouldn’t if they understood the extent of it.”
“I agree.”
“Which is why I rely on you. You’re better than anyone at currying favour with the elites. That’s a fact of your character, I suppose. You don’t come across as insane or world-weary as the others. They like you, so they like us.”
It’s meant as a compliment, but Erwin feels it like mortar setting on the lining of his stomach.
“It is an honour to represent the Survey Corps, sir.”
Shadis barks out a laugh, humourlessly, reeking of irony.
“Of course it is.”
Erwin lets his facade drop a little, shows Shadis his earnest commitment.
“I’ll do what’s necessary, sir.”
“Good.” He nods, the creases around his eyes shallower. “You may go.”
000
It’s the same up here as it was down below: people talk big, and then wither and squirm when it comes to action. Levi is used to the dark, dirty looks, the distrust and isolation. It took longer in the Underground to garner a reputation as someone you should steer clear of: he’s achieved the same thing on the surface in a matter of months.
It helps that he was the only surviving member of his squad on his first expedition, that he had no formal training and still outstripped the deftest of men on the course, that he was hand-picked by The Captain and spared the gallows, and that he has been at best short-tempered and at worst unhinged since the loss of his family.
He doesn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he never had anyone ever again. In fact, that’s what he’s aiming for, despite what he knows of his pathetic, eager heart.
Too soft by half, boy. Why give away your own share to prolong his life by a day or two?
He eats alone, at odd times, if he remembers, to avoid the stares and the talk. He bathes at the crack of dawn or the dead of night so that he can have the bath house to himself. He listens to his bunkmates sleep and finds himself alone even in consciousness. He trains with minimal engagement with others, communicating in short, sharp commands or wordless grunts. People get the message. A few stupid hopefuls try and engage with him, bright-eyed and well-meaning, or sarcastic and goading, and all leave dissatisfied.
But yes, people get the message. He prefers being alone.
Under-stimulated, sleep-deprived and having not seen any action in a few months, he starts to fidget and his mind starts to wander, desperate for a distraction. Despite his resentment of the social side of soldiering, his fellow Scouts provide the most interesting distraction within the confines of camp. He begins to notice things, intentionally or not.
Like that nutjob, Hange, and the rhythms of their intrigue. He notices how they’ve been given more rein regarding their... research; they’ve got their own quarters and they start carrying around more and more books and paperwork, how they talk at a gallop without stopping for breath to anyone unfortunate enough to wander into their path. They don’t bathe enough. It disgusts Levi. Once when they try to corner him into talking about titans, he lets them know just what he thinks of the state of their personal hygiene. His words are harsh, but they just laugh brightly and thank him for his honesty as he stalks off.
He notices Zacharias’ jealousy, the suspicious twitching of his nose, the way his gaze tumbles down it and pierces the top of Levi’s head, how he doesn’t speak to him unless he needs to, and when he does it is mostly orders. He notices the prideful tilt of his chin, and how his miserable expression gets looser and easier around his friends: around Nanaba and Gelgar and The Captain. Their camaraderie makes Levi sick.
He notices who drinks beer and who sticks to water, who sneaks lovers in at night, who cuts corners and slacks off in training, who is sceptical, who is an idealist, who will get killed before they turn twenty, who resents the leadership, who hates themselves, who is popular and who is unstable. He absorbs this information about his comrades vicariously and unintentionally, his cunning, suspicious mind impossible to turn off. He logs what he picks up as useless information and ignores them otherwise. It’s not like they’ll be around for long. It’s barely even worth remembering their names.
The Captain is different, annoyingly. Levi picks up some things; he is proud, calculating, ambitious, forthright and cold. He is humble enough to avoid arrogance but dignified enough to suggest a status higher than he currently has. He lacks the jaded world view that Levi possesses, but he still seems older than his years. He handles the deaths of dozens of men under his section command with detached efficiency. He doesn’t stammer, doesn’t falter, doesn’t bend. Levi has yet to find a weakness in him.
And that doesn’t sit well. Everyone has a flaw. Sure, The Captain drinks sometimes. He clearly gets something out of seeing his plans come to fruition, something like pleasure, something like pride. Levi saw him laughing with his friends once. But these aren’t true vices. The more he looks, the less he finds. And the less he finds, the more he looks.
He sees him leave at night, sometimes. He sees him leave in the afternoon, alone, with no weapons visible in smart civilian clothes, and he often isn’t in the mess hall by evening. Levi wonders where he goes, before remembering that he doesn’t care.
One evening, in another attempt to avoid his bed, he cleans a storage room on the east side of the compound. He dusts until his apron is grey and scrubs every surface until his hands burn with the cleaning fluid. It takes hours, and his back aches and his eyes sting. It feels good. His mind is almost blank. He curls in the corner between some barrels of oil and drinks his cup of tea. The exhaustion eventually pulls him under and he snatches a couple of hours of sleep sitting upright in a cocoon of varnished wood.
He dreams of tearing sinew and the smell of split intestines. It’s the usual horrific clash of senses, like a huge wave of blood and screaming washing over him all at once. In the tangled mess of images, some imagined, some remembered, he feels meat and bones cracking under his own teeth, slipping down his own throat, weighing down his own stomach.
He starts awake to blackness and sits in the dark storage room, trying to regulate his breathing and pull himself together. He gets unsteadily to his feet and stumbles towards the door. It’s night. The halls are quiet. Without thinking he makes his way to the roof of the stables and perches in his normal spot by the tree, drinking in lungfuls of night air, grounding himself in the present and convincing himself that he isn’t going to vomit.
He waits on the roof, staring out at the gate until he sees it open silently, and a single figure, leading a horse, enters, making their way towards the stable. Moonlight shines on blonde hair. Levi slides down the drainpipe and slips back into the barracks.
000
Erwin thinks better of putting it off, and instead makes his way down to the training ground to convene with his new squad members as soon as he gets the go-ahead from Shadis.
The day is mild. Summer has been kind this week; nothing to tank morale like training for seven hours a day in blistering heat. A new recruit sees him coming and salutes him hastily. He’s barely out of childhood, and clearly doesn’t understand that he needn’t salute a captain, but Erwin nods his acknowledgement nevertheless.
They’re drilling restocking, Squad Leader Sells counting down seconds. Samuel, Yenna and Levi: the newest additions to his squad. They are outpacing the others in the training squad with relative ease. Sells jumps to attention on Erwin’s approach.
“Captain. Need something?”
“Yes. I would like to speak with three of your soldiers. You three.” He indicates. Yenna nods and stops what she’s doing immediately. Samuel looks slightly terrified. Levi glares.
Sells nods and goes back to his recruits. Erwin takes the three over to the shade.
“You have all been moved to my squad. Please report to me for briefings for now on, and come the next expedition, you will be riding in the centre ranks to assist with signal relay. Please introduce yourself to the others this evening at dinner. I hope you see this as an opportunity for career progression, and I am glad to have you on board.”
Yenna’s impassive, hard face twitches in a surprisingly soft smile. Samuel stammers his thanks. Levi continues to glare.
“My squad are in the forest drilling manoeuvres. Finish gearing up and head over there.”
“Yes, sir!” Chorus two voices. They rush off. Levi stays put.
“Are you disappointed, Levi?”
“Is this a punishment?”
“No. It is a promotion.”
“Same thing to me. I don’t want any extra responsibility.”
“Your social skills need some work. My formation only works if communication and trust flow freely between the soldiers it is comprised of. Your carelessness, insubordination and bad attitude are beginning to have an impact on your squad’s efficiency, and I won’t have any more deaths caused by your inability to play nice.”
“So...what? The others hate me so much that they’ve finally just dumped me on you? Are you being punished too?”
“Perhaps, but that’s none of your concern. I’m to keep an eye on you, and to discipline you accordingly should you continue on this suicidal streak of disobeying orders and putting yourself and others in jeopardy.”
“I’m better than them. I’m better than everyone. I’m better than you.”
“That may be, but you cannot take on all of the titans single-handed, and you are too valuable a soldier to be treated casually.”
Levi scowls up at him. He’s a foot shorter than Erwin and yet he doesn’t falter even a fraction under his gaze, like most men his size would. Erwin has a feeling that his usual tactics of persuasion won’t work on this one. He lacks motivation and social graces, but he’s sharp, and perceptive, and not to mention deadly. He’s the perfect weapon, and Erwin found him, Erwin intends to wield him, and so Erwin will have to be the whetstone for his temperament.
He warms his voice, going for earnestness. “That purpose, Levi, that pushes you to do things I’ve never seen before; I need you to harness it and keep it close. It cannot just appear and disappear when out in the field. It’s innate to you, I’ve seen it. Try to focus that on every little detail. Use it to propel you forward for a greater cause. You’re incredible, of course, but you lack purpose, and your apathy will be your downfall.”
“I’m not apathetic.” Levi snaps, and then immediately looks embarrassed by it. Embarrassment is not an expression Erwin is used to seeing on him. His grey eyes narrow. His small lips purse. He clears his throat quietly.
“Prove it. Care. Revenge, freedom, glory - I don’t care. Use something to stoke your personal fire and you will be unstoppable. And that’s what I expect from my squad.”
He turns to leave.
“I expect you also to obey me. Speak with the others at dinner. That’s an order.”
“If we’re gonna be wasting all this time learning to trust each other before we all become titan food, why don’t you tell me where you go at night?”
He stops, he glances over his shoulder. He feels a muscle in his jaw twitch.
“That’s out of your jurisdiction. Why should you care about state business when you have no interest in the inner workings of the Corps?”
“Because you’re weird when you get back. Tired. Frayed. You’re like a different person. You’re up to something and I want to know what. I think I have the right now my life’s been dropped so gracelessly into your hands, captain.”
He makes the formal term of address sound like the basest of insults. He stands and scowls in the shade of the trees, turning the sun sour. He draws the shadows out from the branches and wraps them around his small, brutal body. Erwin shakes his head.
“No, Levi. See you at dinner.”
000
He does go to dinner. He’s late and in a foul mood, but he goes. When he arrives, The Captain catches his eye immediately, and visibly relaxes. He’s been waiting for him to show up, or to not show up. Good.
Levi doesn’t like eating with others. He isn’t used to the noise and mess of communal dinners. He doesn’t like people who chew with their mouth open, or talk with their mouth full, or spill their drink on the table, or scrape their cutlery across their plates. He doesn’t like thinking about how many dead men’s lips have touched the rim of his cup, how many unwashed bodies that are no longer breathing crammed onto the bench he sits on. He doesn’t like watching others eat, when he’s been thinking about them getting eaten all day.
But he goes. He answers questions directed at him bluntly and asks none in return. He doesn’t try to learn their names. He leaves as soon as he is finished and scrubs his hands clean.
He will get used to it. His ability to adapt is something he prides himself on. Routine is good. Order is good, but on his own terms. If the situation changes, change with it, take charge of it, make it your own; that’s what he was taught as a brat. If this new life of his is to stop feeling like a prison and start feeling like something he’s chosen, then he’ll do what he must. And he did choose it. God knows what possessed him to, but he did.
There was...a free fall, like his grapple hook had missed its mark and he was headed straight for the ground. He’d hit it. It had knocked the breath from him as he sank to his knees in the remains of his family. He thought he’d die from it; the shock, the grief, the horror. He wanted to die from it.
And when The Captain had spoken, he’d been too numb to tune him out. He’d said his noble words, his brave words, but he cut the bullshit. For once, for Levi, he cut the bullshit. It distilled in Levi’s chest. It spread like a forest fire through his veins. It kicked something in his head to life. He watched him through the smoke and the rain, riding off towards the next mission, his foolish, unattainable goal, with his back straight and his face set, and Levi had felt... something. It was a tug, like there was a chord coming from his chest, tied to the back of The Captain’s saddle. He got up. He wiped his face. He followed without thinking.
And he is still following, he supposes. Because something The Captain said made him stop, made him care, made him feel, for the first time in his life, that perhaps he wasn’t totally helpless. That perhaps he could do something.
It’s a compulsion he resents, and he thinks he still blames The Captain for the death of his family, but he is not naive enough to deny that he respects him. That’s what the feeling is; begrudging respect, and the accompanying annoyance that it came to this, that the man he was paid to kill, the man who represented everything Levi has always resented, won him over to his way of thinking. The Captain spoke of blue skies won through pain and blood, speaking Levi’s language, saying words he didn’t understand like ‘dream’ and ‘freedom’, and it knocked something unsteady in his chest that’s been itching ever since. Maybe he would give his damn heart, for what it’s worth. Maybe he already has.
Relying on others doesn’t suit him. He goes through the motions with his new squad, repeating orders he’s been given, playing nice, staying in formation, but the monotony frustrates him, and he doesn’t understand how these people he’s tasked with keeping safe, these soldiers with several years of both age and experience on him, could have made it this far with such shitty instincts. It’s something as simple as banking left instead of right to compensate for the opposing force of a swing, or skimming a branch instead of ducking it to keep up momentum, or how the wind whistles differently around a mass as big as a titan. During one session he loses his patience and instead of letting the other three in his formation flail and blunder a moment longer, he takes out the two ‘titans’ set on them single-handedly and drops to the ground with a thud , brushing his blades clean. The other three gape at him with equal parts awe and fury, and Levi shrugs off their discontent. He would have saved their lives if they were beyond the Wall. He won’t apologise for being better.
The Captain is displeased. Levi knew he would be. He looms over Levi on the forest floor, like a damn tree himself. His impassive mask of a face nevertheless has a shadow of anger.
“I saved you three warm bodies, sir.”
“The whole point of training is to train. This was not a life-or-death situation. I needed you to drill the formation you were told and perfect it so that you can deploy it when the need arises in the field.”
“What’s the point of the formation if I can do the job that the other three can’t? It would mean they don’t put themselves in danger unnecessarily.”
“We’re not expecting things to go to plan. The objective is to have these formations down in muscle memory to deploy without thinking. You have three more pairs of eyes, six more blades, and a real titan would be distracted by the diversion of three other bodies.”
“You have no idea how to use me properly.” He doesn’t know where the sentiment came from, but it’s out now. The Captain frowns. His ridiculous eyebrows draw together in the middle.
“What do you mean?”
“If I’m such an asset, why don’t you use me right? If no one can fight like me, why are you shoving me into old formations that don’t fit my style? Where’s your originality, Smith?”
Yenna chokes on the water she is drinking a short distance behind him. The rest of the team have gone silent.
The Captain is particular about Levi obeying orders. When he is dismissive or insubordinate, he is punished. Usually this involves cleaning something he’d rather not; like the latrines or the stables. The previous week Levi got into a fight with another recruit and refused to apologise, and so The Captain had dragged him hissing and spitting into his office, talked his ear off in the measured, booming tone Levi was growing used to, and then thrown him out without so much as an extra hour of stamina training. Levi thought he’d gotten off lightly, until the tea that he drank mysteriously disappeared from the kitchens. Three days of quiet, seething humility later, and the tea was returned. The Captain was a master of war of attrition.
Now, however, he doesn’t move to scold. Instead, he tilts his body back, away from Levi, and examines him head to toe. Levi wants to snap again, but he bites his tongue.
“You’re right. Meet me in my room this evening. We’ll play it your way.”
000
The Captain’s room is dusty but tidy. It’s West-facing so the windows catch the sunset, panes blazing, spilling gold and orange across the floor. Levi itches to clean it thoroughly. Captains get private quarters but no office, and so The Captain does all of his work at the desk in the back corner, bracketed by bookshelves. There’s a washbasin and a wardrobe. His winter coat hangs on the back of the door. There is a framed family photo on one of the shelves and an empty vase tucked in the corner of the windowsill. The Captain has made his bed. Levi glances at it and then looks quickly away.
He sits at his desk, out of the ODM harness and jacket, but otherwise still in uniform. He has rolled up his sleeves. The fading light catches on the hollow of his jugular and Levi thinks about killing him before remembering that he doesn’t want to anymore. He greets Levi curtly and nods towards the spare chair. Levi takes it and sits on the other side of the desk, arms crossed, legs crossed.
“Explain to me what your instinctual course of action would be in this scenario.” The Captain begins. It is...unusual being alone with him. The low timbre of his voice seems bigger and deeper in the quiet room. Levi bristles.
He glances at the diagram The Captain pushes towards him. The web of lines depict aerial movement and there are crude drawings of titans labelled with their height class. Levi blinks.
“Approach from above. The big one will be slow-moving, and so when it swipes there will be enough of an opening to move around his arm. Using the flesh as a pathway rather than a single grappling point means you’re less likely to lose your grip, or get swatted like a fly. After getting the nape, gravity will do the rest - the other will be in prime position.”
“And what if the smaller has moved?”
“Use the bulk of the big guy as he’s going down to assess. It should be a clear shot. The main issue would be getting your wires tangled.”
The Captain nods. He draws some lines that mean nothing to Levi along the original pathways. He overlays the paper with another diagram; more titans, fewer trees.
“How would you do this on your own?”
“I’d hook round the back of the shoulder of this one -”
“The five-meter would take you out.”
“Not if I was quick enough.”
“This is a bird’s eye view. From the front you wouldn’t notice it if you were alone.”
“I would.”
“Can you be certain of that?”
“Yes.”
“Well I cannot. And if there’s a chance you missed it, it would interrupt your swing and you’d head straight towards it. Even if you managed to evade, it would buy the ten-meter enough time to turn around.”
The Captain speaks like Levi is a child, like he’s holding back the ‘do you understand?' that sits on the tip of his tongue. It’s patronising.
“Theoretically, sure. You love your theories but I think I’ve proven myself in the field. I’d notice. I’d get them all.”
“You have no plan to fall back on, no extra pair of hands to assist should one of them grab you out of the air.”
“No distractions.”
“Your arrogance could cost you your life.”
“I prefer to see it as self-belief sparing the lives of others who wouldn’t need to be there.”
The Captain gives him a long look. His expression is hard but his eyes are calm as ever. Levi is struck by the sudden and strange desire to make him angry, to make him shout. Maybe he’d finally dismiss Levi for disrespecting a superior officer. Maybe he’d lunge across the desk and fist his hands in Levi’s collar.
He doesn’t. He stays perfectly steady. Levi blinks back; apathetic, loose-limbed.
“You lack discipline.”
“You lack imagination.”
“There are no solo scouting missions. The cost of your attitude will be the lives of your comrades.”
“Then it’s your job to make sure they don’t get in my way.”
“This determination to achieve a state of complete self-sufficiency is very transparent, Levi. You’ve lost so much, you think you can avoid the same agony again by gaining nothing new.”
Levi bristles once more. The Captain’s scrutiny is unwelcome. It’s like insects burying under the surface of his skin, eating away at his flesh, laying their eggs there.
“You don’t know shit about me. I’m not kissing the ass of every other soldier I meet because they’re incompetent. They’re dead weight. Their expectations and vulnerability will hold me back. That’s all. I thought you were supposed to be the brains of this place, and you couldn’t even figure that out about me.”
“There’s nowhere left to run, Levi.”
Levi flashes his teeth in a snarl, but before he can ask The Captain what the fuck he means by that, there is a loud knock at the door.
“Come in.” The Captain says, without tearing his eyes away from Levi’s.
A woman comes in with a note from Shadis. She hands it to The Captain and he thanks her. As she leaves, she gives Levi a fairly wide berth.
The Captain opens the note. Quick eyes skim-read what is written upon it. Levi’s watching him so intently that he catches the change, small as it is; an almost imperceptible sigh, the slight lowering of his eyelids, the faint line appearing on his brow.
“We’ll talk about this later, Levi. Dismissed.” He says, without looking at him, slipping the note into his pocket and standing up.
Levi kicks away from the desk and leaves the chair in the middle of the room as he leaves.
000
Erwin usually walks the last stretch; the dirt track up to the gates of the compound. The ground is damp and spongy underfoot and the moon slips in and out of cloud cover. He’s tired. He cannot afford to get tired, but his body cares not for his brain’s ambition. There is a twinge in his neck where he has pulled a muscle. He flexes his fingers around the reins of his mare.
The soldier stationed at the gate slips the lock past the latch and pushes it gently to let him pass.
The soft, worn silk of the back of his mind draws near and then billows away. He’s tender like a bruise, primed for probing despite the discomfort. He straightens his spine and wills the memories away, casts his reservations and doubt and regret behind the curtain. It will be iron once more in the morning.
Through the silver slices of inconsistent moonlight, he catches a flash of movement above the stables, but Levi is quick and agile, and gone before Erwin can think what he wants to say to him.