Levi had learned long ago not to blame himself for making the wrong decision; he knew that you could only choose what you thought was the best course of action, and you could never know in advance how it would turn out in the end. No one did; to dwell on it was pointless.

Bad decisions, even ones that ended in death and torn limbs, could be forgiven.

He had a harder time dealing with a failure of skill or speed. It was something he rarely faced, for one thing. But when he'd leaped up onto Eren's neck to cut him loose, he'd known moments later that he'd been too slow. Maybe he'd held off too long, maybe it was his twisted ankle. Maybe it was sheer bad luck. It didn't matter, and he still held himself partially responsible for what happened.

"Don't eat a valuable witness," he said, as he sliced Eren free.

Eren flopped back into his arms, and Levi heaved him loose from the titan corpse. As he did so, he saw Eren's hands were coated in a layer of glittering crystal.

By the time he'd got him down to the ground to where Mikasa and Armin were waiting, the hard shell was creeping over his shoulders, and Levi could feel Eren's body solidifying, inch by inch as the crystal crept across his skin and didn't stop.

"Hange!" he shouted. He didn't want to leave Eren, but this was not his area of expertise and he couldn't stay. He cast one last look at Eren's face, his eyes shut and his skin streaked with red, before leaving him with his friends. He held Jean back from stabbing at Annie's crystal. He didn't understand any of this, but he knew things had probably, once again, gone entirely to shit. Even Annie's corpse would have told them more than this rock; corpses could be dissected at least.

When he saw Eren again he was a statue, and Levi knew the true cost of being seconds too slow.

Armin and Mikasa shouted at him, trying to wake him up.

He didn't wake up. Levi had a lot of things to do, and he left Eren in Hange's hands until he'd done them. Annie was secured underground, and Eren was taken back to his dungeon at HQ. Levi rode next to the cart as they left the capital. They'd covered him in a cloth because Erwin wanted to keep it quiet for now that Humanity's Hope was no longer conscious. Wrapped up and in the back of a cart, Eren was indistinguishable from a corpse. Mikasa sat in the cart with him, holding his hand through the canvas.

They unwrapped him and carried him downstairs, and took his boots and harness off and put him in his bed, but he didn't look anything like a human any more, no matter how they tried to treat him as one.

He was beautiful, in a way, but he no longer looked like Eren, either. Levi had to hold the lantern close and peer through the crystal to see Eren's face. Once he stepped back away it was lost under the gleaming shell and it could have been anyone in there.

Levi had never expected this.

Truthfully, Levi had expected Eren to die, sooner or later. He was burning so brightly, too brightly for a long and happy old age, and Levi expected he'd breathe his last bellowing with rage on the battlefield, his eyes alight. Not like this. Cold and hard and asleep rather than truly dead.

But just as good as.

They tried everything they could think of; temperature changes, acids, grindstones. They found a jeweller from the capital whom Erwin swore (and paid) to secrecy, and she tried to find a fault line, a weak point in the crystal, a starting point where they might be able to cut Eren free like a gemstone. After a week of bending over Eren with a magnifying glass and a strong light, she had to admit defeat.

She cried when she left, and apologised over and over. Humanity's Hope was starting to look hopeless.

They tried to break him out from the inside, too. At first, Mikasa and Armin had to be ordered out of Eren's room so they could sleep and eat, and even then Armin suggested they move in with him.

Visiting Eren became the hobby of everyone in HQ. Once their jobs were done, every time someone had a spare minute, they'd drop down to the dungeon and talk to Eren. Jean would shout insults until he was hoarse and then storm up stairs in a foul mood to find a spot to hide his head in his hands. Sasha would tell him in detail what they were going to have for dinner. Armin raided the library for books, and read him pages and pages of stories about the ocean, about how humans once sailed upon it, begging him to remember his dream.

Mikasa called his name and held his hand.

Levi ordered him to get up and get moving. He don't know what Erwin said, but it was just as effective as everything else, which was not very.

It was a quiet, long-running disaster, and both Levi and Erwin knew it. It sapped morale, it put plans on hold, it left Eren's friends emotionally exhausting themselves day in and day out, and for everyone else it was a gradual slide into hopelessness. Levi thought it would have been better if they'd declared him dead. The Survey Corps had mourned enough people over the years that they had it down to a fine art. They could start moving on. They had to; the Capital and the titans weren't going to wait indefinitely for Eren to wake up.

Levi was overruled, but privately he tried to bury Eren as best he could. He kept himself busy, rather than visit him, and he tried to distract the others as best he could with drills and training. As always he had to be the eye of storm; calm and unaffected, to back off when people needed it, and to bully them if that was what it would take to get them through the day. He exhausted them. That was the easy part. The hard part was exhausting himself, and it didn't always work out.

One evening, weeks after they'd lost Eren, he'd run out of paperwork and he decided to make himself tea. It was a more appealing prospect than going to bed, even though it was quite late. He knew he wouldn't get to sleep. He took a lantern and made his way downstairs as all the lamps had been snuffed at curfew. Everyone else was asleep, and HQ was quiet and peaceful. Levi rather liked these times, where he could wander unobserved at will and just think things through. Or not think at all, but allow himself to lower his guard a bit.

He managed to coax the charcoal in the stove into a flame again, and when he had his cup of tea he found himself wandering down towards the dungeon. He'd never looked in on Eren when he'd been alive- awake- there, unless he had some specific reason to see him. He let Eren have his privacy.

He didn't need it any more.

More chairs had been moved into Eren's room, and Levi dropped into one, placing his lantern on the bedside table, and cradling his cup in his hands. Eren sparkled. But not as much as he should have.

Levi leaned forward, looking at Eren more closely.

"I swear those brats would live in a garbage pile if no one told them better," he muttered. Eren was starting to collect dust. Levi put down his cup and buried his head in his hand. "Fine. If I must."

He intended to smack Eren around a bit with a duster in the vague hope that it might make him feel better, but in the end he dampened a cloth and wiped his face and hands like one would a feverish child and not an object. The dust had settled in the corners of Eren's eyes and in the curves of his ears, in the hollows of his collarbones and between his frozen lips and Levi cleaned them all, methodically and gently, even though they'd yet to find anything that could damage the crystal.

Levi had never spent so much time staring directly at Eren's features before. It was too hard to look past his eyes most of the time. It was strange to see his face so still; even when he slept he moved. It didn't suit him, this handsome death mask.

By the time Levi was satisfied, Eren sparkled brightly again and his tea was cold.

"Probably the cleanest you've been in years," he muttered under his breath. He frowned. He hadn't intended to address Eren directly. He was dead. Levi tried not to talk to the dead; there were too many of them, and he didn't want them to start talking back. He didn't think he'd like what they'd say.

He slumped back in his chair. It was too fucking late and he was too fucking tired for this shit.

"I don't know why I came down here. What the fuck am I supposed to say? What are you waiting for?" No matter how much he tried, realised he hadn't quite managed to convince himself that Eren was gone. When he made the walk down to his dungeon, part of him had hoped he'd already be awake, had expected it even.

"I'm sorry," he said. He looked at Eren's frozen face. "That I was too slow to prevent this. This is my fault as well as yours." They weren't the magic words, and they sank into the stonework without a trace. Levi collected all evidence that he'd even been there and went upstairs to wring out the cloth and wash his teacup.

What a waste of time.

He went back two nights later. He didn't say anything, he just sat in the chair next to Eren's bed and thought.

"You seem pretty peaceful in there," he said the next night. "I wouldn't entirely blame you if you wanted to stay in there forever." His friends had begged him to come back; if their words couldn't reach him, Levi's wouldn't. Besides, it struck him as disrespectful to be anything but honest at this point.

"I wonder if I'm envious," he mused. He left it at that.

Levi started taking paperwork down with him. He didn't feel obligated to talk at Eren all the time, he just sat and worked and occasionally commented on how expensive it was to feed everyone. He was just being polite, really. Eventually he grew tired of pretending Eren was alive and avoided visiting him for a week.

Eren's birthday was coming up. He was turning sixteen. Levi was sick of hearing about it; the squad were divided on whether to hold a party on the day or wait for Eren to wake up and hold it then, because no one was game to state the fucking obvious, which was that Eren clearly wasn't going to wake up. Not in time for his birthday, and probably not ever.

It was pissing him off. He tried to keep his emotions out of it, but some of his subordinates were too clever by half, Armin especially, and he knew they were walking on eggshells around him. And that pissed him off more. He woke up with gritted teeth sometimes.

They compromised. Those who wanted to give Eren gifts would do so, but no one had the heart to organise a celebration around his crystallised body. Levi told them he frankly didn't care what they did, but he wasn't giving them any time off that day.

It was a horrible day. Eren was in the air they breathed, the echo to every word they spoke and the topic of the gaps between them. Levi had to order Mikasa to stand down eventually, as she was going to do herself an injury with the way she flung herself at her training. He kept walking in on people on the verge of tears, and then they'd fucking apologise for it.

When he finally got to close his door at the end of the day, he spent five minutes sitting at his desk, staring blankly. He wasn't going to go downstairs. He wasn't going to prolong a day that had lasted far too long already.

He did.

"Happy fucking birthday," he growled at Eren's peaceful face. He'd have been tempted to punch it if he hadn't known it would have done him an injury if he'd tried. But he couldn't maintain the anger for very long; he was just too fucking tired. He folded his arms and leant against the wall and waited for it to drain out of him.

"I know," Levi said eventually. "What a burden expectations can be. To be our hope, you took it on without even thinking about it, I'm sure. I've never seen you think things through- no, that's not fair. And what what I wanted to say, anyway." He moved closer and sat down, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "The point is, as much as our hope burdened you, it burdens us as well. It holds us back, and blinds us to reality. We can't give it up, not yet, although I think some of them are starting to try."

He'd been trying and failing since day one.

He started to speak several times before he worked out what he wanted to say.

"You're my hope, too, Eren." He said it. "When you appeared out of nowhere with your ridiculous abilities. And you won our first battle for us; humanity gained ground. I don't think many people here have lived long enough to know what that means. Not really. You took something back." Levi clenched and unclenched his hands, "After so much had been taken from us. I met you and I knew hope."

"Not just because of what you can do, but who you are. Your rage, courage, optimism." He bowed his head and ran his hands through his hair. "And that is why I cannot understand how it came to this. This is not a fit ending for someone like you."

He fell silent. He'd intended to say none of this, but now that he had he felt better. It had relieved the burden a little. He realised he was very tired, and he got to his feet before he fell asleep in the chair. God knew what Hange would make of it if they found him dozing here tomorrow morning.

"Happy Birthday, Eren. I didn't get you anything." He frowned, "But you don't want anything any more, do you?"

Just as the others were starting to give up, Levi found he was picking up the slack. It became a habit to walk down to the dungeon late at night and talk. At first he talked about the others, what they were doing, how the training was going, but it was repetitive and depressing. He wondered if he should start reading books to him like Armin still did, but Levi honestly wasn't much of a reader; he'd had to learn later in life and while he was competent, he wasn't comfortable with the written word.

He had plenty of war stories, and he told those instead, trying to avoid the more depressing ones, or the more depressing parts at least.

"Maybe you'll learn something," he said. "You're going to be in fucking terrible condition when you wake up. You'll need all the tutoring you can get in the meantime."

He wasn't sure how he was managing to function on four or five hours sleep a night, but for now he was doing so without too many problems and he watched himself to make sure his standards didn't slip. When he had a day off he'd spend most of it dozing.

He started running out of war stories.

"I'm telling you this backwards," he said one night. He'd finished his tea. "When I was your age-" He paused. He didn't talk about where he came from, or what he'd done, he'd never even considered it until now, no matter how many doe-eyed recruits asked him cautious questions. "Do you really want to hear this?" he asked.

He realised that he actually wanted to tell him. He didn't know why, but he'd been pouring out bits of his past for weeks, and he didn't want to stop.

"You're a much better listener now, Eren, I'll give you that."

Oh fuck.

He hadn't meant to say that, he hadn't. Because he remembered that Eren was a good listener. As impulsive and foolish as he was, when Levi spoke he stopped and paid attention. And then he'd take whatever Levi told him and probably do something stupid with it, something stupid and brave.

Levi buried his face in his hands, and he pushed back tears behind his eyelids. This was threatening to break him. He'd almost forgotten who was under there, what the real Eren was like. And now he remembered.

"I miss you."

He didn't say anything else that night.

The next time he tried again. "When I was your age," he began.

Things weren't really better. Eren didn't wake up.

"We can't let this go on for much longer," Levi told Erwin. "They're not going to be fit for anything but cleaning duty at this rate."

"I agree," Erwin said, to Levi's surprise. "We can't wait any longer. We still have all the information we did before this happened. Things will be more difficult without Eren, but we need to start organising the next expedition."

Levi knew that was all he was going to get out of Erwin for now, but it was more than he'd expected at least.

He told Eren before the others. Erwin would make the announcement when he was ready. Levi hoped it would be sooner rather than later; it would take people's minds off it all. He never thought he'd see the day where the thought of going out of the walls and fighting titans would actually improve morale.

"I imagine we'll be attempting to take a look at your basement," Levi said, turning his cup around in his hands. "I'm not sure how long we'll be gone, or even when we're leaving, yet. In a couple of weeks, I suppose. You'll just have to make do without us for a while."

Eren, as always, didn't respond, and days continued to pass.

Levi kept the dust off Eren's face and hands, but he never touched him otherwise. His hands were slightly raised, frozen in place, and he knew Mikasa and Armin often held them, and Levi suspected they weren't the only ones. Levi didn't think it was particularly appropriate for him to do so, although sometimes he was tempted.

"Well, the announcement's been made, as I expect your friends have told you already." He'd try and bring them all back safely, but Levi never made promises. He didn't have anything else to say, and he just sat in silence for a while.

Eventually he stood up and stretched. Before he left he held the lantern up close and peered through the crystal to Eren's face. He didn't want to forget what he looked like.

"It's a shame I can't see your eyes," he murmured.

He wondered if anyone had tried kissing him; like this was a fairytale and not another grim chapter in humanity's history. He wouldn't have put it past them. Clearly it hadn't worked, so where was he going with this? He hesitated and then reached up to brush an imaginary smudge off Eren's cheek with his thumb.

A sound like breaking glass.

Levi recoiled and put the lantern down.

"Eren?" His heart was beating fast. "Eren?" He looked him over, but nothing seemed to have changed. He hadn't moved. There weren't any cracks in the crystal. Levi sighed. "I need sleep," he said, running a hand over his face. He needed to be in better condition than this before he left on the expedition. He'd let this get to him too much.

Levi made himself go to bed early the next few nights.

They were planning to leave in two days when Levi visited Eren again.

"I probably won't have time tomorrow," he said. "So this is farewell, for now. I hope you're having good dreams." He sighed. No wonder everyone but Mikasa and Armin had mostly given up; a one-sided conversation just couldn't be sustained indefinitely. At least he'd have something to talk about when he came back.

He stood, and nodded at Eren, and then he turned and walked out, his lantern in his hand.

A sound like breaking glass.

Levi froze in the doorway.

A sound like breaking glass. There was no mistaking it. He turned, crossing the room to Eren's bedside.

"Eren?"

Levi stared. Eren's hands were fracturing. A thousand tiny cracks, multiplying as Levi watched, crazing the surface of the crystal. They crept across Eren's face. Levi held his breath. Come on, Eren. Come on.

And then it shattered, shards of crystal scattering across the bed and the pillow as Eren lowered his hands and opened his eyes. Levi flinched, instinctively turning away to avoid getting shards in his eyes. Just like that, the crystal had fallen away, cracked like eggshell.

"Eren!" Levi leaned over him, looking once again into his green eyes. He was going to say something, something like 'I should have guessed the thought of killing titans would motivate you' but no words passed his lips as he watched Eren's peaceful expression finally crumble.

Levi had stood with survivors on dozens of battlefields, and he recognised the sound that poured from Eren's mouth as a raw scream of pure grief. If he hadn't been in the dungeon, Eren would have woken up half of HQ.

Levi stood in sheer shock for a few moments as Eren's eyes, the one's he'd missed so much, filled and overflowed with uncontrollable tears. He'd never seen Eren like this before.

"Eren?"

"Mother," Eren choked, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a rictus of pain. "Died."

Levi didn't even think about it, he acted. He didn't understand why Eren was suddenly so upset, but he knew his heart was breaking. Levi wouldn't just stand idly by and watch. Couldn't.

"Eren, come on, sit up. Or you'll drown." Eren didn't move, but he let Levi wrap his arms around his shoulders and lift him up. As soon as he realised what Levi was doing, the teenager clung to him and buried his face in Levi's shoulder.

He cried. There was a year's worth of crying, maybe more, just pouring out of Eren without restraint. He dug his fingers into Levi's jacket and heaved great big gasping sobs against the material. Sometimes he'd say names, some of which Levi didn't recognise and some he did; the ones he knew all belonged to the dead. Levi wrapped his arms around him and hung on.

He was back. Levi was just so relieved, he wasn't sure this desperate embrace was solely for Eren's benefit. He was alive and breathing and absolutely disgusting, Levi thought. His face, and now Levi's jacket, was covered in a mixture of snot and tears. Levi felt like crying himself. Of all the people he'd lost over the years, this was the first time someone had come back.

Forever surprising, that Eren Jaeger.

"We lived by the sea," Eren said eventually, although Levi had to concentrate to make out his words, as they were thick and clumsy with tears. "We were alive and happy. All of us. Everyone."

Levi sighed. So that's what he'd been doing in there. No wonder he hadn't wanted to come out. He felt Eren pull back.

"I'm sorry, Captain- Corporal, your jacket-"

"Then don't smear it around. There's this substance called soap, Eren, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it." That won him a soft chuckle that sounded closer to a sob. "It's fine," he added. "It's all right." He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket with one hand, keeping the other around Eren's shoulders. Fuck, he'd been gone for months and all he did was apologise for messing up his jacket.

Eren accepted it and blew his nose. He was starting to calm down at least, but he seemed in no hurry to move away, and Levi found he didn't really mind that either. Eren's breathing started to even out a bit.

"Why is there a potato?" he asked eventually. It was sitting on the bedside table, sprouting and wrinkling.

Levi looked at it. "It's your birthday present from Sasha. She said if you knew what you were missing out on you might be motivated to wake up."

"But it's raw. It's growing."

"She brought you a cooked one originally, but apparently it started to get cold so she ate it." He'd heard this story from Jean when he'd questioned him about the arrival of the potato. He'd been desperate to get rid of the disgusting thing, and was planning on throwing it out before the expedition left.

"I had a birthday party," Eren said softly. "There was a cake, and my... my mother gave me new shoes." Levi can hear the tears threatening to return in his voice. There was nothing he could say; he could only guess how many people Eren had lost over the past five years. Poor kid.

Levi cringed as he felt Eren try and clean his jacket with his handkerchief.

"Stop that," he said.

Eren looked up at him. His eyes and nose were red, but he looked like he'd cried himself out at last. He gazed up at Levi with a strange expression, one Levi didn't recognise.

"You were there too," Eren said softly. "Not at the party, but there."

"That's not really surprising," Levi said.

"You had your own ship." He didn't think that's what Eren wanted to say, exactly. He was definitely keeping something back, something that lurked in his eyes when he met Levi's gaze. He wondered if the portrait Eren's mind had painted of him hadn't been entirely flattering.

No, that wasn't it. It was something else, something that made his tired, battered heart jump. He couldn't back away now, not when Eren needed him so much, but he had to start looking for the exits.