It's strange for him to see her again and even stranger to see what is left of the girl he loved ever since. The woman is sitting by the window, the one with view of the endless ocean, waist-long black hair falls over her thin shoulders and even though he can't see her face properly, he knows, she doesn't notice his appearance. The man clears his throat and just then, the woman looks up. His heart skips a beat or two, when he sees her face, the dull, dark eyes, which he used to love to look at. Many scars mark her porcelain skin, her cheeks are hollow and the wish to leave this place, to leave her, grows inside him. He thought he was prepared for this moment, but now, he doesn't know what to do nor what to say. If he would die in this very second, he would be grateful, he thinks. But he doesn't die, he never does, something always keeps him alive.
The woman's eyes find his and next to every sign of vividness, they're also missing the one thing he has scared the most. Recognazion. Again, he clears his throat and finally he speaks. "Hello, Mikasa..."
The black-haired tilts her head, her eyes are narrowed now. He remembers her doing this many times and he used to like it. Now it scares him in some way. What if she recognizes him, what if she doesn't?
"Do I know you, old man?", she asks curiously. She used to talk rarely back then, but when she did, her voice was strong and people started listening to her no matter what. Now she sounds calm and soft. On one hand he is relieved that she doesn't seem to recognize him, on the other, he feels an old but well-known pain. What did he expect?
"Yes.", he nods slowly, "But it's been some years, I guess."
"Must have been long years then.", Mikasa sighs, then she looks out of the window again, where the waves are breaking on the cliffs.
"Indeed. It was another life back then…"
Something that sounds like a laughter escapes the woman's mouth. It's a short and dry noise. "So? Did you come to talk to me about this life? Take a seat then, you look tired."
The man does as said and makes his way across the small room, to a chair next to her. He supports his leg with a walking stick, because it never really healed and with age, walking became exhausting, so it takes it's time to reach her. "Do you want some tea? Maria brought some yesterday. It's my favorite one." She doesn't wait for his answer and gets up her chair. "Does she come often, Armin's daughter, I mean?", the man asks while he watches her standing in the small cooking area. He remembers the times she entered his office with a tray of the best tea he had ever drunk in his life. It's trivial, but he hopes it will taste the same.
"When Armin left and she became pregnant, Maria moved in here. Such a lovely child she is, as smart as her father. Doesn't want me to be alone all day, thinks I'm kind of insane… Never mind!", suddenly, she freezes in her movement and frowns. "Speaking of Armin, I wonder when he will be back. Months passed since they told me he will be off for a while. He shouldn't went off at all, not with this horrible cold he had caught before, I wonder how he made it out of his bed. And he didn't even send a letter until now. These men, they always leave without a word of goodbye and nothing makes them stay..."
He gives her a sad smile, knowing very well, that Armin won't come back. "Don't worry about Armin, he's fine wherever he's right now. He wrote me a letter a few months ago, asked me to look after you, if his journey takes longer than expected. He also wrote, that you would finally like to see me, I coudn't believe it at first, really, I didn't believe this day would come. I'm sorry that I didn't make it earlier, I've became so old. But now I'm here..."
She seems to be confused for a second, but then she takes the boiling water from the fire and pours it into an old teapot. Almost immediately, the nice smell of black tea fills the room and after a few minutes she places a cup of steaming tea in front of him. "Here you go. Well, yes, I always look forward guests." The man nods and takes a sip of the tea.
It tastes like old times.
As she sits down again, he continues to watch her face. It has changed. Of course it has. When he last saw it, many years ago, it was splattered with blood and soaked in tears, the heavy shock still visible in her eyes. If one thing had never changed between them, it's the day which they declare as their worst one. Pictures of a battlefield form in front of his eyes, screams echo in his ears, he feels the pain of a fight in his bones, the worry about her. But he's also aware of victory, of a future he can finally start. Then he sees the bullet again, that damned bullet. In his memory, it rushes towards Eren, who is hugged by Mikasa and the man starts moving as fast as he can. He remembers the sudden pain in his flank which numbed his body when he hit the hard ground with one arm around Mikasa's waist. The same time the bullet found it's target and in the next second, dead green eyes stared at them. The last thing he rememberes of that day, is the scream of the woman in his arms.
The man reaches over the small table they're sitting at and takes the woman's hand. It feels warm on his skin and as often, he wishes he had never let go of it.
"I wish I could have been able to make you happy, you know.", he says after some time and for a moment, she's silent. Then she frowns. "What are you talking about?"
He sighs and leans back in his chair. "You know, when I entered this house, this one thing came up my mind. This could have been our house, Mikasa. Your's and mine. We could have spent all this years here together. I was willing to give you what you wanted, I really was. After that night, I wished I could be with you every other night that follows. See, on that one day, I only took up my sword to secure a future worth living in with you. But in the end, I coudn't give you anything but sadness. I messed it up. I messed you up. I'm more than sorry about this. But I couldn't let you die either..." The man brushes some strands of grey hair off his forehead, his eyes are closed and it feels like a heavy burden falls off his shoulders. "And after that day, everything I did was to bring a whole ocean between you and me. We thought it was the best for you. I'm sorry."
She's uncomfortable, nervous, he can see her free hand shaking. "What was your name again, old man?"
He smiles slightly. "It's Levi, Mikasa. Do you remember it?"
"Yes…", she nods and squeezes Levi's hand tenderly, while her face brightens. "Such a beautiful name it is. Levi. It's my son's name!", her voice is shaking and again, his heart skips it's beat. "What did you say?"
The woman starts to sway back and forth, she smilies now. "I named him after his dad. My son, I mean. Always told him about his father and now my little boy is such a handsome and caring man, always takes care of his mother. Such a good child he is, my boy, becoming a father himself soon, I'm so excited."
The old man's mouth goes dry. He doesn't need to ask, and still he does. "You…? We have a son?" Mikasa takes another sip of her tea and nods proudly.
"Yes. You know, his name is Levi, I named him after his father. His father gave me everything I need in this life..."