He thought he was going the right way, but, maybe he had a concussion, and maybe the rocking sensation akin to ricocheting bullets in-between his ears had made him thrown up enough that he couldn't think, and he may have been slightly deluded when he saw the beginnings of a town and believed he'd made it back. One of the first things he found was a well, and not a titan in sight, so he spat out blood and wiped his mouth, and pulled up the rope and bucket.
God was merciful. It looked clean enough, and parched beyond comprehension, he drank deeply. The water washed down his throat, divine and cool, and he drank until he was engorged on it, and even then he ran it over his aching, dirty ("disgusting") hands and splashed it over his face, blinking until he felt more conscious. Lastly, he filled his drinking pouch, and gently lowered the wooden bucket back into the recesses.
He kept walking. This lasted until he saw a distinctly human figure standing in the middle of the road, glowing scarlet under the setting sun. In Levi's painful and worn state, the colors of the scene all mixed and twisted into brilliant ruby and dark emerald, interrupted only by the slender form of the delicate person who was the forefront of the painting. There was something pathetic and beautiful about the image, all at once, and Levi felt his breath catch and himself nearly miss a step - though surely that was from his injury.
The wind came down the street, blowing leaves into the air and making the old trees groan, and a distinctly red scarf whip around the person. He shut his eyes tight, steadying himself, and opened them again to find his vision clear and sobering, though his blurry mind still felt a tinge of reluctance that his original sight was gone.
Mikasa Ackerman. There was no one else it could be.
He was met with a rush of blistering emotions, all conflicting and nauseating in their rush. First there was overpowering relief that felt just as good as drinking the well water. It was followed earnestly by confusion, as to why Ackerman was here, and especially why she was standing the middle of the road looking like an abandoned cat. And then indignation, fury as to why she had not obeyed orders and gone back with the rest of the soldiers. But, naturally, fury turned into concern - concern that one of the best soldiers he had was not with his troop...
Blood was piling in his mouth again, slowly, from where his teeth had ripped the inside of his cheek, and Levi spit on the ground before calling out.
"Oi. Ackerman."
Mikasa could not truthfully say the last time she'd been so relieved to see her Corporal.
Words rose in her throat and fell flat. Corporal Levi limped over to her, his expression worn and taciturn, and Mikasa could barely make herself move until he was right in front of her, where she finally took a long, shuddering breath, and broke out of her reverie.
"Corporal," she attempted to greet him, but she had barely taken in air and it came out breathless. She swiftly ran her palms over her eyes to calm herself. "You're alive..."
Corporal Levi spat blood out of the corner of his mouth, leaving a small bit to trickle down his chin, and causing Mikasa to study his face more closely, her eyes adjusting to the blinding final rays of sunlight making his face glow. The blood trembled down his chin; his dark hair was somewhat slicked back and damp with sweat, and the, most noticeably of all, a purple bruise was blossoming across his right temple towards his eye, marred by a coagulating scrape. Its size was painful. Despite his beaten state, he looked surprisingly clean... though this was Levi, after all.
"'Course I'm alive. Wasn't about to let a few mongrels eat and shit me out."
She restrained a smile, trying to contain her overwhelming rush of emotions. She bottled up her shaking fear, melancholy, relief and concern, and tried to channel it into a composed voice. "Are you all right?" she asked. Then, "Your head looks... unpleasant."
He, on the other hand, snorted as he looked away. "It's a scratch. I'm fine." His gaze returned to her, and Mikasa felt the uncomfortably warm sensation of his eyes combing her body from top to bottom, until he asked, "Are you hurt?"
Mikasa shifted her weight and shook her head.
"Mm. Good." Pause. "...I take it no one else is with you, Ackerman?"
"No, sir. I made it out alone."
"Tch. Marvelous. Regardless, you're not dead, but I wish you'd obeyed orders for once in your life. Color me surprised."
Mikasa bit the inside of her cheek and opted not to respond. Levi did not speak either - he became contemplative, staring off into the fading skyline, seeming somber, or bitter, or both. The sun had sunk lower now, leaving traces of orange lights and dark shapes on his skin, and reminding her that night would soon come.
"We should probably take shelter sooner rather than later," Mikasa finally said. Levi's head jerked to attention at her words and he winced as he did, alerting her to the fact that his plum-coloured wound was probably far worse than he'd care to admit. Nothing could be done, however - finding somewhere safe to hide would have to be their priority for now.
"Shouldn't be too difficult. I'm sure one of these decrepit shitsacks still has enough roof on it to get us through the night," he said, eyes combing the ghost town they stood in as he did. "Food can wait until morning. Have you had water?"
Mikasa frowned a little, and reached into her jacket to check her pouch. She squeezed it, and heard only a faint sloshing from the very bottom.
"I have some left. I'll be fine."
"I think not. There's a well back there, and it's still good. Clean up and drink your fill, then we're looking for cover."
Mikasa was going to protest, already fed up with his condescension, but the look in his eyes warned her not to complain. Mikasa grit her teeth, thought better than to put his face into the dirt, and stormed off without a word. As such, she quickly found the well, quenched her thirst gratefully, filled her pouch, and then began the search for shelter.
It was as the sun truly began to dissolve into twilight and a warm, uneasy grey filled the world that a sense of peculiarity truly took root.
Something was incomprehensibly unsettling about this town. Mikasa could not put her finger on it. She barely said a word, as did her companion, except from occasional necessary comments - they'd break down a door, discuss that there was too much rubble and broken glass and ruin to make the house habitable, and then trudge on to the next place. Many, many of the buildings had demolished roofs, or walls entirely blown out, and it was evident that titans had wrecked the area some time ago.
At least the wall was more or less up. Mikasa had never heard of this little area - Levi muttered something about it being a failed offshoot from the Wall Shiganshina, meant to be a possible watch for scouting, like a crow's nest of sorts - and it did nothing to quell the unnerved feeling in her chest. It seemed Levi picked up on this, for after peering into the fifteenth building and finding it unsuitable, he sighed and turned to her.
"Fuckin' wreck. If we don't find something here, we'll have to settle on one next to the wall." She understood with his point, and agreed: the closer to the center, the safer. But his topic took an abrupt turn. "Ackerman. Be honest with me: are you actually fine? Withholding information from me creates room for error, and I for one do not want to get fucked in the middle of this hellhole with no assistance in sight."
His language was harsh, he was wincing from where his injury was, and blood had dried on the corner of his mouth... but his words were not wholly unkind. Mikasa could not place why, but she reluctantly felt it was truly just the mark of a leader - the finality of his tone melded with something thoughtful; reliable? It was foreign to her, and her inability to identify it left her sour, but the safeness of his words still wrapped around her welcomingly.
She frowned, and pinched the inside of her sleeve. "I'm fine. Really."
"You'd better be. I don't have the patience or energy to waste on saving your ass."
Constellations were blotting the heavens by now, and a milky light from the arrival of waxing moon was all that illuminated the world. Levi looked impossibly steady in the moonlight, his cloak wavering in the breeze and his eyes reflecting the twilight silver. Mikasa felt words tumble into her mouth, but she could not speak them - her brow furrowed, and all she could think of was how she wished she knew if Eren was okay or not; how secretly relieved she was to for Levi's presence, so that she was not alone in this place.
She nearly stumbled midstep with that uncharacteristically kind thought about Levi, but took a breath hurried to continue towards the next house.
"Same goes for you, sir," she replied evenly. "You've nearly toppled over more than a few times, and I'd be grateful if I didn't have to haul your body back to quarters."
Levi snorted derisively. "As if. Your track record pisses itself under mine."
"Perhaps. But who's the one sporting a concussion?"
And there was nothing he could say to that. Mikasa spared him the hurt pride, for the house she looked in proved hopeful, and she added, "This one is in surprisingly solid condition. I think we're in luck."
She had to squint a bit in the dimming light, but it was apparent that the roof was still 3/4ths of the way on this one, and it had protected the inside of the little shack from a great deal of decay. The windows were all mostly broken, there were dead leaves strewn across the floor, and some leaks in the roof around a large hole on the other end that had left little puddles. But even so, Mikasa could make out a patch of miniature white flowers growing out of a crack, and the place was cosy, upright - and above all - adequate.
Naturally, Levi could not accept her judgment alone, and had to peer in for himself before deeming it satisfactory - which he did. Mikasa rolled her eyes, and he didn't see, thankfully, and they stepped inside.
A few minutes later, their gear was tucked away on a dilapidated shelf, and the arduous process of cleaning up enough space to sleep began. It was absurd - impressive, even - that with such an injury, Levi demanded their sleeping space be pristine.
But Mikasa was not resentful, though she wanted to be. On the contrary, her typical hatred seemed to be only a simmering disdain, and it was eclipsed by some want to fulfill her duty to the best of her ability. She didn't know why. This was the man who she'd watched ride in on horseback god knew how many times - even when he was brutally young, too - and the man who'd, like it or not, probably saved Eren's life more times than she could count. He was the man who stayed behind to correct her form when she did one-on-one, and still lead an entire troop in a way that gave them astounding faith, even til their deaths. A man who, really, she knew nothing about.
Levi was not a person who did things for show, not really. All of his words, bitter and poisonous, resounding and hopeful, blunt and dominating, were said with purpose and action to back it up. Mikasa had heard the whispers, knew she and him were birds of a feather, fortunately or not, in their battle ability. It wasn't something she liked, and it left a bad taste in her mouth.
But even these thoughts could not quell her drive. Mikasa reluctantly remained hard at work, even though she was tired, and still secretly rabbit-hearted, and the dark curtain of night was falling on them.
She nicked her fingers on glass shards twice, but managed to hide this from Levi, who was currently scrubbing portions of the floor and regularly blowing his bangs out of his face, mumbling something about needing a bandana. They cleaned in mostly silence, occasionally with Levi directing her because she'd missed a spot, but eventually the lack of light was too overwhelming to continue.
"That's enough for now, Ackerman."
Mikasa sat up on her knees as he did, breathing deeply in relief and wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her arm. She had long discarded her jacket and rolled up her sleeves, and the sweat cooled quickly in the dusky night air. Out the old, cracked window in front of her, she could see the yellow moon had fully come up from behind the smattering of jagged, looming silhouettes of black trees, and wisps of fireflies passed lazily by the copious starscape. It was impossibly bright and hushed all at once; the wind cooed softly, and here and there, now and then, an owl would call out from the nothingness, and the crickets would not even falter. Mikasa could count a dozen shapes in the stars that peered between billowy clouds, but not see her own hand laid on her leg.
There were no sounds of horses, or restless sleepers down the hall. There were no patrolling soldiers, no sounds of boots on rock and concrete and muffled voices discussing plans.
Mikasa Ackerman felt very far away.