Chapter 4: Shake dreams from your hair

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Armin was, as a rule, not afraid of what he couldn't touch or see. He'd been nursed on stories of mythological creatures, and the properties of copper ore. Logic and reason and legend and religion were all equally real and present in his mind. And, if really put to the question, he believed in science more than he did anything else.

But his little maid didn't believe in science. She was Irish, and had been born in quick succession a year after her brother to parents who worked very hard for little reward. But they were rarely unhappy. Armin's mother had mentioned by chance that they were leaving their young son behind while she and his father went to Europe, and the seamstress's daughter was a perfect fit for the tiny household. She was kind, and patient, and perfectly happy to teach Armin her native tongue so that they could chat back and forth while she learned how to manage a household.

Armin's father said that the Irish were some of the most superstitious people he'd ever had the joy of meeting. He could write a whole book on superstitions that were purely their own. It was because of their rich history, he said. Their religion and their history and their ancient legends were all tangled together in a knot that couldn't be pulled from each other. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. But she was Irish, and she was afraid.

After the incident with the kitchen, she hung large, ugly crucifixes in every room of the house. Armin complained once to his grandfather about the eye-sore that they were, but his grandfather was a kind man, and gently told him that she wasn't hurting anything, and to let her have her way. Armin did not argue, but he did not like the way they looked down at him, eyes rolled back in carved faces full of pain. He didn't see how it was comforting.

He found her saints far more interesting. Invoking Saint Anthony for lost things, and Saint Christopher for his parents' travels- it felt more like playing at alchemy or some kind of lost magical art than sitting stiffly on the hard pew in the cathedral, trying desperately not to sneeze from all the incense ever did.

So she hung her crosses and said her prayers and for a few months, everything seemed quiet. The weather cooled as summer turned into autumn, and Armin would walk in the evenings around his block, Antoinette at his side, licking his hand whenever he paused too long for her liking. An American Bulldog, Armin had loved her with a fierce devotion since she was a puppy, and she returned his love with companionship and loyalty. Antoinette never made much more than a peep her whole life, save the occasional warning huff to people passing by, that this was HER family, and she was there protecting them.

Then, in late October, things began going missing again. Antoinette, fearless as she was, flat out refused to enter the kitchen, planting her feet stubbornly and remaining unmoved even when the maid offered her a bit of this and that to try and coax her inside to sit at her feet as company while she worked. The crucifix in the hall on the second floor routinely was turned upside down; like all the magic was being poured out onto the carpet like sand through an hour glass.

The maid's fear seemed to be slowly infecting everyone. Armin even caught their Valet double checking the doors at night, turning the key twice over and pulling on it before he was satisfied.

"What do you believe?" Armin asked him, as he held the light for him to wash his face while the sound Latin prayers drifted down the hall from the maid's room.

"I don't really know myself," his Valet said softly, "What is the cause for strange happenings in this world. But I believe in love. I believe in loyalty. I believe in protecting those you care most about. I believe in duty- my duty to you and your family. It is what gives me purpose."

The next morning, there were thirteen dead crows on the front stoop- all their legs pointed towards the sky. Armin watched out the window, still dressed from sleep, as his servant quietly, and quickly swept them away before anyone else woke.
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"I've met him," Eren announced proudly to Mikasa, leaning all the way over the hedge to speak to her. "His name is Armin. He's been dead almost 100 years, I think." He didn't exactly get a date on him. But the date in the book suggested at least 100 years. "I want to find out how he died. Then maybe he can pass on." Or whatever ghosts did. Eren had a long list of horror movies on Netflix to watch; RESEARCH, if you wanted to know. "Do you want to help?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Mikasa asked, flipping the long edge of her scarf over her shoulder. Eren was happy to see her still wearing it even though he thought it was WAY too warm out for something like that. "He's not harming anyone, as far as I can tell. Besides, he's your project, not mine."

"Yeah, but, you seem to know a lot about this kind of stuff," Eren explained. He would have never known to go looking for ghosts in his house, or what he was looking at when he stumbled across one, if it hadn't been for her. She also already knew a lot about his house. "Come on, Mikasa," he begged, clasping his hands over hers. "You're really smart. I'd probably just mess it up on my own."

Mikasa smiled a little, pleased, and rocked back on her heels. "Maybe I'll help, if that's what you really want," she allowed, and Eren counted that as a win for him. "How is everything?" she asked, nodding towards his house, "Otherwise."

"What do you mean?" Eren twisted around to see if Armin was in one of the windows again. He wasn't. Eren shrugged. "The other one just walks around a bunch still, which I don't LIKE, but he's really not bothering me too much." Between Armin hanging out in his room, talking and then reading once Eren couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, the walking ghost didn't really wake Eren up as easily anymore.

"I mean him, Levi," Mikasa corrected. "Is everything alright? I heard yelling the other night."

Eren's face fell, and he let go of her hands to fold his arms across his chest. "As well as it can be, I guess," he grumbled. "I mean… we're here. His new job is here. He's not taking me back." Eventually, maybe, if he said it enough, he'd come to accept it. "And he can't bring my parents back."

"No," Mikasa agreed reluctantly. "No one can do that." She paused, and then leaned closer, her eyes dark and serious. "Was it his fault, Eren?"

Eren jerked back sharply, surprised at the cold steel in her eyes. "What?"

"Was it his fault?" she repeated; slowly and calmly. Like she was trying to coax answers from a reluctant child. "You can tell me. You can trust me, Eren."

Eren wanted to say yes. He'd shouted it at Levi enough. It's your fault, YOUR FAULT, you could have saved them! He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the memory. "I've got to go," he said instead. "Be ready to go to the library in half an hour, Mikasa!" he called over his shoulder and he hurried into his house.
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"I wasn't meant to be a scholar," Eren complained, throwing himself down on the couch. Mikasa caught the folder with the scanned microfilm they'd gathered from the library before it hit the ground and scattered everything out of order. "They can fix the machine, right?" Levi was going to have a COW if he had to fork out for a broken light-box, or whatever the hell that machine was that could read all the tiny little scanned newspaper pages.

"You might not want to go back for awhile," Mikasa said unhelpfully as she pulled out the first sheet. "House deed."

"Boring," Eren sighed. It had taken FOREVER to find the house in the old records, and then from there they'd had to scan mile after mile of newspaper, trying to find the correct dates they were looking for. At least, after they had the deed, they had a name. "Arlert." Eren snagged the paper from Mikasa and rolled over onto his back. "Purchased by Erich Arlert in 1855. Sold to James Frederickson in 1920. And so on- anything later than that isn't the right time period anyway."

At least, Eren hoped his hunch was right. They'd copied all the birth records they could find in the 'right time period' as Eren put it, after they'd found the house deed, using the date that the house was purchased and the date Armin had written in his book as a guide.

"Hey! That's right," Eren scanned over the deed and sat up. "We have a basement!" It was listed there in the deed. "Looks like it was an original part of the house." Unfinished, was what Levi said. What did that even mean? Dirt floor?

"Eren," Mikasa said slowly, "We're trying to find out more about Armin. Focus."

"But maybe he's IN the basement!" Wasn't that how these plots always went? The ghost hung around because his physical remains were still around!? "What if he was buried down there!" It was 100 years, ago, he'd be all bones now anyway. "What if he was MURDERED by his parents and buried under the floorboards!" There were pictures, in the attic…. A figure scratched out. What if that was Armin, and his parents had tried to erase all evidence of him, including his face!

"Eren," Mikasa leaned her head to the side, tapping her fingers on the paperwork she had spread before her to keep her place on the long list of hand-written names from local registries. So many people. So many lives. None of these people even existed anymore. "You're speculating. Armin's death is somewhere in these papers. We just have to find it. Stop making wild hares for yourself to chase."

Maybe… but people didn't become ghosts when they were happy, right? People who died peacefully didn't become ghosts. Eren hadn't been in the basement yet. And as far as he knew, neither had Levi. Probably too dirty for him to think about salvaging. Not like the attic. Levi had made noise about turning it into some kind of guest room after they'd watched a few episodes of House Hunters. Weirdo. "How many cemeteries are there around here? Should we start with the basement?"

"Eren," Mikasa said patiently. "Please take your mind off the basement. We're not going to every cemetery and looking at ever headstone to try and find him. We're going to start by looking through the obituaries in the newspapers we copied, in the likely years he died, given his current appearance."

"Uuugh!" Eren flopped over, face first, onto the couch. "I thought it would be more interesting than this." He stuck his hand down the back of the couch to pull out the TV changer. "Break time." He pressed the power button, but the screen came on fuzzy, crackling in a way that had Eren quickly turning it off and on again as his heart dropped to his stomach. "Levi is going to KILL me." It wasn't his fault though! Why was it broken!? It wasn't like it was new, but it shouldn't have just DIED like this! What was he supposed to do NOW when Levi was gone all day!?

"Eren." Eren looked up from considering what painful torture Levi was going to put him though for breaking his shit, and saw Mikasa pointing towards where they'd left the living room door open. There was a faint white-blue glow along the side of the door frame.

Armin. RIGHT! He'd fucked up the radio in the kitchen too! "Mikasa," Eren whispered loudly as the ghost leaned ever so slightly to peek in at them, "Can you see him?"

"Yes, Eren."

Good! "How well?" Maybe he was just a ball of light to Mikasa. Mist. Armin said people usually only saw mist. Though, Mikasa had always been very perceptive about the ghosts in his house.

"Eren-" Armin took a small step into the room, and cast a nervous glance at Mikasa.

Eren remembered what Armin said about people screaming and smiled in what he HOPED looked like a reassuring manner. "Don't worry," Eren told Armin, "She's the neighbor friend I was telling you about."

"Eren," Armin tried to start again, "She-"

"Hello," Mikasa intruded, her eyes wide and curious but unconcerned as she watched him. Eren was glad. They were probably the closest things he had to friends in this lousy town, and he was sure glad that Mikasa wasn't scared of him. "I'm Mikasa. I've been watching you for a long time. How nice to finally meet you."

"Armin," he offered back, a little shyly, dark blue spots appearing on his pale, silvery cheeks.

"We think we found your last name," Mikasa offered, holding up the paper once more, tempting him over. "And maybe, your father. Why don't you come sit with us, and we'll show you what we have?"

Armin hesitated a moment, looked at Eren, and finally made his way into the room, settling a few feet away from the two of them and drawing his knees up to his chest. "Alright," he said at last, looking at them expectantly. "What is it? What did you find?"

Eren grabbed the paper out of Mikasa's hands, and then when he realized that Armin couldn't take it, put it on the floor in front of him. "The deed to this house! And the person who owned it while you were alive." Saying it aloud, it didn't seem like much progress at all. But… it was probably important information, right?

"Nothing about how you died yet though," Mikasa said, and Armin shifted uncomfortably. "Don't worry, we'll find it. We still have a lot of newspaper to go through."

Eren leaned closer at the small nod Armin gave, his head down. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, its just… strange," Armin said quietly. "I haven't spoken to anyone in so long and now… the two of you, and trying to remember what happened… it's a lot to take in." His head shot up from his knees. "That is, I don't mean to sound ungrateful. It must have taken a lot of work to find all this."

"I did the work," Mikasa offered, and Eren scowled. "Eren just shouted out ideas and put things away in the wrong boxes."

"Mikasa!" He protested loudly. But… Armin was laughing. It was kind of weird and echo-y, but it was a laugh, and Eren decided that Mikasa could live. For now.

"Anyway," Mikasa put the papers back in order and stood, offering the folder to Eren. "Levi will return soon, and I should be getting back. It was nice to meet you finally, Armin."

"Go out the back door, thought the kitchen," Eren suggested. Just incase Levi came home while she was trying to leave.

Armin nodded and watched her go, staring long after she'd vanished. Eren tisked. "Have you never hung out with a girl before? Or was your family all, medieval about that kind of thing?" he asked, attempting to prod Armin in the side and shuddering when his hand went right through him, like being doused in cold water. Oh right. Ghost. "

"You really don't know your historical periods," Armin said with a smile. "No, that's not it. She's just… interesting. Mikasa… that's Japanese, isn't it?"

Eren shrugged. "I dunno. I haven't asked her."

"Regardless," Armin mused, and then turned. "Eren… you should always forgive the people who have wronged you."

Well THAT came out of nowhere. Eren frowned. "Some people don't deserve forgiveness."

"Revenge doesn't make it better," Armin insisted.

Eren scowled. For all of Armn's chatter when he showed up at night before Eren went to sleep, wanting to know this and that and holy SHIT, WWI had him fascinated, but not so much WWII, they'd never really talked about personal philosophies like this. He'd even go so far to say that Armin enjoyed listening to HIM talk. "Where is this even coming from?"

"Eren?"

Eren's head jerked up from the couch pillow. Levi was back. Mikasa left just in time! Armin scrambled to his feet and brushed off his crazy elaborate clothes like dust actually bothered ghosts. Maybe it was one of those weird living habits that transcended death that you did, just because. "I have to go," he said quickly. "Just… think about what I said, okay?"

Eren snorted and looked away. "Whatever."

"Eren-"

"Eren?" Levi called again, and Armin cast a nervous glance towards the doorway, but stubbornly didn't move.

"Promise me, Eren."

Eren threw his hands up in the air. Why was this so important? "Fine, sure whatever. I'll THINK about forgiveness before I ever bring my wrath down on someone. Happy now?"

Apparently, yes, he was. Because he smiled and turned quickly, side-stepping Levi as he walked through the door with a constipated look on his face. Armin turned for a moment in the doorway behind Levi, waved, and was gone.

"Eren!" Levi stood over him, glaring, his hands on his hips. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Eren shrugged and flopped back on the couch, feet dangling just off the cushions so Levi couldn't complain about feet on the furniture. Sometimes he felt like Levi had read a manual about keeping a pet, and just tried to apply everything to him. He was waiting for the day that Levi came after him with a spray bottle

"Who were you talking to?" Levi straightened and looked around suspiciously, like he expected someone to be hiding behind the curtains. And maybe he did.

Oh… uh, he must have heard Eren speaking to Armin. I was just talking to a ghost was probably a bad response. "It was the TV," Eren lied. "I just turned it off." Yeah, telling Levi he was talking to a dead kid would get him worse than foster care. And foster care had sucked pretty hard. "What's for dinner? I'm starving!"

"There were fish sticks in the freezer," Levi pointed out, removing his tie.

"I ate them all!" Eren protested with a frown. It wasn't like he had all the money in the world to go and get more food. That was KIND OF Levi's job… to feed him.

"The serving size is three," Levi arched an eyebrow.

"I was hungry." And bored. "Besides, who only eats three?" The grunt Levi gave him was probably some kind of agreement, so Eren decided to push his luck. He was getting tired of frozen shit for dinner. "Are you going to be hom-here, tomorrow?" Not that he cared, but he wanted to know! And if he was going to be late, then Mikasa wouldn't have to go running back home before Levi got in. Maybe she could even come over to look over the newspapers and they could order a pizza. Not that he really thought Levi would CARE that he had a… friend, over, when he wasn't home. He just might not approve that his friend was a girl without giving him some kind of weird and awkward talk that Eren really didn't want to hear from LEVI, and then go over to Mikasa's house and talk to her parents. Nope, much better to just avoid it all together.

"No," Levi said with a sigh, "I've got a late shift tomorrow. Actually, I'm going to send a friend of mine to watch you for the evening, since I'll be back after you should be in bed."

Eren blinked for a moment, confused. And then his eyes narrowed. "You're getting me a ibabysitter/i?" Eren said in disgust.

Levi hummed in the back of his throat at pushed Eren's hair back out of his face, too rough to be affectionate and too gentle to be disciplinary, and nodded. "That's exactly what I'm doing," he said. "You're alone too much during the day Eren. I know it can't really be helped, with the move and school being out, but it's not healthy for you."

Eren threw his hands up in the air. "Sign me up for the YMCA or something," he wouldn't go anyway, but it would at least keep Levi feeling like he was doing his job and leave him alone, "But don't get me a BABYSITTER like I'm 6 or something!"

"Eren, do we have to be shouting already?" Levi asked with a sigh. "I just got home."

Eren snorted and was about to launch into an argument about how if they hadn't MOVED, then he'd have plenty of people to hang out with and this whole discussion would be unlikely, when he paused, and looked Levi over. His shirt was untucked on the right side, and his sleeves rolled up to the elbow- uneven- the right was shorter than the left. "What happened?" Eren asked with a frown, concern pinching his eyebrows together.

"Nothing," Levi insisted, "Just… a bad day at work." When Eren didn't say anything, he continued quietly, sensing that the fight had dissipated for the moment. "Will you make the salad while I start the chicken?"

"Fine." Eren gave himself a shake. Salad and chicken. That sounded… good. Levi made a killer chicken when cooked in garlic olive oil. "Go change," he added. It was as close to 'sorry' as Levi was getting from him. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Infact, Eren decided as he entered the kitchen, he'd even start getting the chicken for Levi! Show him how responsible he could be! Then Levi might let the whole babysitter thing drop. Eren put a pan on the stovetop for the chicken, and then grabbed a pot. If Eren set it out, Levi might make mac and cheese to go with their dinner.

Satisfied, Eren washed his hands quickly and faced the refrigerator. Alright, salad! It was one of the things that Levi tended to trust Eren with making completely by himself because really, who could fuck up a salad?

Eren opened the bag of lettuce slowly and looked towards the kitchen door. A bad day. He was used to 'bad day' at the office meaning rough stuff. When his dad used to have bad days at the office, it usually meant people died. Levi wasn't that much different. The day he first met Eren had been a 'bad bad' too. Hazards of the job. Eren shook his head violently. No, not going to think about it. They were going to make, and eat dinner, watch some tv so that Levi would relax, and then Eren was going to start looking over the newspapers. He should probably hide them up in his room before Levi saw them though. He'd stay up all night reading them too! He was going to find Armin. He couldn't help anyone living- but maybe he could help this guy who was already dead. Right? It wasn't like he'd erase any red in his ledger, but maybe… if Heaven existed between being stuck and just being dead… maybe Armin could tell his parents, if he saw them…

Something was burning.

The smell caught him by surprised, choking his breath and making his heart race. Eren whirled around, eyes widening at the flames on the stove. "H-how?" he whimpered, falling backwards, staring. It smelled BAD. Not like campfire and fireworks, but like electricity and tar. White hot and roaring in his ears, making it hard to breathe and his vision swim.

"Eren!"

Eren took in a deep breath and started coughing as he tried to look around. How did he get on the floor? Levi was in front of him, fire extinguisher in hand. He looked ANGRY. "What were you thinking?" he demanded. "You could have burned the whole house down!"

Burn- Eren looked at him with wide, startled eyes, and shook his head. He'd never do that! It wasn't his fault! Levi sighed and sank to his knees.

"Sorry, wrong use of words. Eren. Are you okay?" He still looked angry, a pinchedness in his face betraying his fatigue.

"I- I didn't turn it on!" Eren finally managed. "I just put the pan on the stove. I didn't turn it on!"

"Eren," Levi, put his hands on his shoulders, "Eren, it was all the way up on high."

"I didn't do it!" Eren cried hysterically. "I didn't do it! I didn't do it!"

"Okay, okay," Levi said quietly, and Eren bowed his head. He didn't turn it on. He didn't! He'd remember that! "You didn't do it," Levi continued softly, and Eren felt his throat try and close up. "Lets just order in for tonight. Okay? I'll call the electrician tomorrow to come take a look at it."

Eren dreamed of fire that night.