His eyes fly open. Already he feels knotted tension woven through the muscle of his shoulders and spine, tries to release it while pacing each heave of his chest and attempting to smother the familiar feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.
Damn nightmares. Only they weren't really that; they were memories.
One memory.
He raises himself half-upright on weakened arms and reaches for the glass of water at his bedside, taking a nice long swig and downing two aspirin from his dresser for the thrumming behind his temples. Still holding the empty cup, he reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose, knitting his brows together. One eye squints over at his alarm clock, surrounded by a colorful assortment of pain killers and sleeping aides; 2:07 A.M. Damn.
Without moving his fingers, he places the glass back on the table—
Whoosh
His hand suddenly snaps away. He whips his head around, eyes shifting in the darkness, and listens.
Silence.
A trick of his ears? That's something sleep deprivation does to you isn't it? That, or the A.C.'s acting up again; it's probably nothing.
At least that's what any normal person would think. And Levi certainly doesn't fit the protocol for normal.
Tension strikes through his body again like a bolt of lightning, adrenaline washing through his veins and searing under his skin, making his heart beat fast with wild energy and a soft buzzing accompany his every thought. This is what existed for Levi. This was real.
He's out of bed and grabbing a gun from underneath the mattress before his brain can even comprehend his movements. The pads of his feet make no sound at all as he steps cautiously out of his bedroom and into the hallway, his only give-away being the steady swish of his sweat pants. He's grateful for not wearing a shirt to bed as his body glides silently against the wall until he's just outside the open entry into the living room. He pauses for a moment and takes a slow breath, then holds it like a ball tight in his lungs as he cocks his gun and starts to count, adjusting to the familiar weight of metal in his fist with each passing second.
Three…Two…One…
His tongue sneaks out to wet his lips.
Zero.
He swivels into the room, weapon raised.
Nothing.
The ball unfurls, air whistling past gritted teeth.
He walks backward through the entry, gun still at the ready, as his body travels down the opposite end of the narrow hallway. His eyes stay locked on the opening to the living room until he feels the cold brass of a doorknob push into his back. He breaks his gaze for a second to swing open the door, relieved to see no danger inside, only the movement of a tiny sleeping form beneath heaps of blankets and stuffed toys.
The deathly grip of his fingers around metal loosens and he lowers his weapon, feeling his body slack against the frame of the door. He sighs heavily and massages his throbbing temples. The bubble under the blankets stirs and shifts around to face him, revealing two identical blots of icy blue that wink at him curiously from the glow of a nearby nightlight.
"Daddy?" A little voice questions, one puny fist rising to rub at sleepy eyes and pudgy cheeks.
Levi's lip quirks invisibly in the darkness as steps toward the bed, leaning down to ruffle a patch of wispy blonde hair and making its already sleep-ridden tufts stick out in every possible direction. The child squirms under his palm and wriggles the rest of his head from the sheets.
"Hey, Kiddo—"
Whoosh
There it is again.
He whips his head around.
The child then notices the firearm between his tightening fingers and latches onto his bicep, staring at the weapon with wide, knowing eyes. Levi's focus is immediately brought back to him when he feels soft, trembling palms on his skin, and carefully he pries the hands away to hold between his own, setting his gun down on ladybug-printed fabric.
He speaks sternly, "Sam, I need you to stay in your room, understand?"
The child's lip wobbles slightly. "I'm scared..." He whispers.
The fear ringing in those words pulls at Levi, but he knows what he has to do.
"Sam, promise me you'll stay here. We've been through this."
Sam looks at him with teary understanding and nods weakly, blonde locks bobbing slightly around his head. "I promise." He mumbles.
Levi squeezes his shaking fingers and places a chaste kiss on his forehead before picking up the gun from crumpled sheets and whisking from the room. He shuts the door without so much as a squeak.
Leaving Sam behind has always been the hardest, but it has to be done. Despite his age, he knows that and has always listened to Levi in these situations, no matter how scared he is. He's always been so smart and so good... as a father he's truly lucky.
He deserves better than this shit.
Anger swells inside him, simmering behind the taught muscles of his body and making his jaw clench. He'd hoped—it was stupid but he did—that they could finally move on; that Sam wouldn't have any of this bullshit involved in his life, but they found them. Of course they did. Deep down he knew they would.
With the fresh heat of anger to drive him on, he moves toward the living room once again, this time turning into it without hesitation.
Ah. He doesn't even need to search.
It's her.
A woman stands in the open unabashed, clad in full length dark clothing with long, inky tendrils of hair forming a sheet behind her back; whether she's scowling, smiling, laughing, crying— he wouldn't know. Her face remains ever-hidden behind a white, emotionless mask. Only her eyes are visible through cut holes in the paper maché, each showing a brilliant forest green with not the slightest trace of humanity or compassion.
Levi's fists coil with silent rage.
"You." He bites coolly, knowing well to hide his emotion. But she isn't looking at him.
Her head tilts to the side curiously. He follows her gaze, anxiety suddenly pooling in his stomach.
Shit.
There in the entryway, little Sam stands on buckling legs, nervously looking from the woman to his father and biting his unsteady lip.
Anxiety then turns to panic.
Why why why why why why why
"Sam, go to your room." He barks, noticing the breathiness in his voice.
The boy visibly falters, wanting to listen, but he glances at the woman again—shaking down to his toes—and instead stumbles forward to clutch his father's leg.
Levi curses. This is not the time. He swivels his attention back on the intruder, eyes blazing silver.
"Leave now." The words rip from his throat in a vicious growl.
Her eyes finally tear from the child and flick back to attention. A gun then appears in her hand from a strap around her thigh and she raises it to aim at Levi's head.
Click.
Sam whimpers. The sound draws the woman's eyes to him again, and she seems to hesitate.
Suddenly her body lowers until she's kneeling on the ground, gun still raised to Levi without even looking in his direction and mossy stare boring straight through the frightened child. He shivers and grips the pants-fabric tighter against his thumping chest, shying away behind his father's leg. The woman only tilts her head in that strange alien way once again, and reaches out her hand to gesture with sleek fingers; come.
Levi's body goes rigid. His mind becomes wracked with confusion and shock.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He threatens; a deathly whisper.
He wants desperately to shoot. His fingers twitch with anticipation, but Sam is there. He doesn't want him to see that, never, but the conflict wages on, putting sweat on his brow and making the ache in his head feel close to bursting.
Fuck it.
He's a split-second away from releasing a shot when Sam abruptly lurches forward, now staring transfixed at the masked intruder. Levi lowers his gun slightly with wide, horror-struck eyes, the air suddenly feeling as though it's being sucked out of the room.
"Sam?"
The woman gestures silently again and the boy takes another hesitant step forward, eyes never leaving her ghostly face. Sense comes to Levi then and he stretches outward to steal the child away with one arm, whipping back and aiming at the mask again, entire body trembling with fury.
His breaths come in fast, weighted pants as he snarls again. "Get the fuck out of my house."
Her attention returns to him, flicking to his gun for only a moment and back. She stands upright in one swift motion, aim still locked between his eyes, and walks steadily back towards the open living room window. One step, two, three…four…five… and she vanishes into the darkness beyond; just like that, a breeze humming through and gently rippling the curtains.
Levi's body slackens. He sets a dazed Sam upon the ground and quickly paces toward the window, looking out.
Nothing.
He curses under his breath and slams the window shut, attempting to lock it before realizing the mechanism is broken. He makes a sound of frustration and slams a fist against the wall, shutting his eyes tight and huffing loudly through his nose. He remembers Sam behind him and his eyes blink open. Sam.
He turns back to find the child staring blankly at the ground. His shoulders have stopped shaking. The man sighs softly and approaches his son with gentle steps. He kneels before him and gingerly lifts his chin with a finger to meet his gaze.
"I'm sorry…" Sam sputters immediately, eyes beginning to well.
Levi smiles weakly.
"You should be. That was a really dangerous thing. You've never acted like that. What got into you?"
He lowers his eyes again, sucking in his bottom lip. A small tear drips from the corner of his eye and trails down. Levi moves his finger from beneath his chin to wipe it away.
"Look at me."
Sam looks.
"That was a bad lady, Sam. Very, very bad. If you see her you run as fast as you can. Understand?" He tries to be stern, but the tenderness slips in.
"Very bad?" The boy asks, confusion in his voice.
"Yes, the worst."
He uses as much emphasis as he can in hopes that the message will stick in the five-year-old's flighty realm of thought, though Sam is admittedly smarter than most, so it's not really necessary. At least it wasn't.
He only nods in response, seeming to accept this enough, and Levi's mind wanders back to the strange encounter between his son and the masked woman. Fear and confusion ebb into his thoughts again, and he remembers then the promise that he made four years ago. With it comes the remnants of his recent nightmare; the memory. A memory of a man sprawled cold and dead on the ground, like so many others he had seen, only it was different this time. This time he didn't do it. This time it hurt.
His oldest friend left him forever that day, with no warning whatsoever.
Murdered ruthlessly.
And Levi vowed. He vowed to his parted soul that he would protect his son with everything he was worth.
To think that vow was nearly broken only a few minutes earlier.
Levi grits his teeth and wraps himself around the boy, easily swallowing him in his arms, and hopes Erwin isn't angry with him. Hopes to whatever power will listen that he can keep his son safe. Erwin's son, and now his own.
He nestles his face in the downy hair and closes his eyes.
"You little punk…"
..xxx..
-1 month later-
Levi grunts as he lifts one of the last boxes labeled "Guns" and travels up the short path to the front door, pausing in front of it.
"Sam, get the door." He calls, noticing some scrappy plants on their lawn and grimacing when he realizes they're supposed to be the front garden. He'll have to fix that later.
After a moment of some agitated foot tapping and the sound of pattering feet on wood—pattering feet that did not take their shoes off like they were told—two giddy eyes and a smile to match peek around the entrance. Why the child is so delighted with a stupid empty house, he'll never know, but it seems to be a thing with kids.
"Open it." He says, exasperated.
The child giggles and complies, but his patience wears thin and excitement wins over as he ogles the vacant space behind him, running off excitedly before Levi can manage to get all the way through; heavy wood knocks him in the side and causes his breath to leave him in a quiet oof.
He continues inside despite the new ache in his hip and rests the box upon a large cushion of the sofa, briefly registering a spastic little shadow whizzing about in his peripheral vision. He chuckles breathlessly as he grabs another box from beside the sofa labeled "Dishes" and carries it across the room into the kitchen, placing it on their rounded dining table and immediately unpacking the matching white plates and bowls to store away in dusty cabinets. He attempts at one point to ask his son for help, but no sooner than the little imp comes flying in, he's gone again, so instead he unpacks the items by himself and idly gazes out the window over the sink to observe their new surroundings.
Everything is quiet, unbelievably dull, and just quaint enough to make him want to vomit; exactly as he remembers it.
It's absolutely perfect.
The grass is cut, the sun seems always shining, and people scatter about the lawns doing various "neighborly" things. Certainly no place for trouble, and that's exactly what he needed; a place where Sam could grow happily; safely.
He tries to push down the sick feeling he gets from being back. This place only reminds him of the life he left behind, of Erwin, and of his childhood. Despite the picturesque quality of the town, memories of his young life here are not so pretty. It's all a blur, a mess of colors and numbness he'd rather not remember, which is why he told himself he wouldn't come back after Erwin was killed. But now, here he is. Life's a bitch like that.
He tries to scrape off a dusty shelf with a paper towel, noting somewhere in the back of his mind to buy surface cleaner the next time he's out.
This is for Sam. And for him things will be different.
The clog of unwelcome thoughts starts to slip away and his eyes then refocus on pleasant scenery. He spots a sleek, black SUV just down the street and for some reason he can't stop staring at it.
Suddenly he freezes.
Normally this discovery wouldn't hinder him except for the windows are tinted and he's pretty sure he saw it park there this morning. It's evening now.
His eyes narrow and he drops the plate he was holding in the sink. The glass shatters.
"Daddy?" He hears Sam call out.
"Stay here, Sam!" He shouts back, and storms from the kitchen into the living room—currently empty of all but a sofa and tattered rug—to tear open the box he had left.
The familiar glint of metal greets him through ripped tape and he grabs a pistol from the top of the stack, jamming it into the hem of his pants and covering the end with his shirt. He marches toward the front door and narrowly rips it off its hinges in his wake, headed straight for the parked vehicle.
He knew. He didn't want to. He'd hoped again—foolish—but he knew. They couldn't just run away.
Now it's time he finished what he started.
..xxx..
-3 weeks later-
Thwak. Thwak. Thwak.
The man groans and cowers into uneven gravel, face contorting with pain. Blood coats his clothing and spews from his mouth; Levi only kicks him into the dumpsters again.
Crack.
A final yelp escapes him and his body stops squirming; not dead, but unconscious. Levi spits red and swipes a spot of blood from his lip, looking over his work. He may die later, but that's not his problem right now. He flicks the hood of his jacket up and makes to leave the alley before he's noticed, but stops when he spots the words "Local Sitters" beside the thug's head. Quickly, he bends down and snatches what looks to be a bloodied newspaper from under him to study up close.
He needs a boy. There's only one listed:
Eren Jeager, 15
Levi fumbles for the cell in his pocket and hastily jabs in digits of a phone number and an email address before folding up the filthy paper—with some reluctance—and sticking it in his back pocket. He tugs his hood again and exits the scene as quickly as possible, briefly looking over the pixelated screen of his phone.
8:26 P.M.
Almost Sam's bedtime.
Notes:First EVER Riren/Ereri fanfiction! Please don't eat me alive; I'm more of an artist than a writer honestly. My skills are not awesome but hey, we all get the need.
I really want to complete this story -(I've pre-written the plot and everything)- so please, if you enjoy, feel free to share, like/kudo, and comment to help inspire and motivate me :)
If you do not enjoy, then please do not feel obligated to do any of those things, but I certainly hope someone has fun reading this
~Note: Editing is a thing that's happening, if anyone wants to reread before moving on.