August 843
-A little over a year since Levi joined the Survey Corps.-
-Part III-
Levi caught the little matchbook Hange threw his way.
"Wrong answer," Hange informed him with a smirk and stepped closer. Although Levi knew Hange hadn't had a wink of sleep, he couldn't help but notice how alert they looked— far more awake than half the medics currently in the infirmary.
He glanced at the small matchbox in his hand. Already, he felt the onset of a pounding headache which Hange Zoe was sure to usher in.
"The hell are you taking about?" Levi asked grimly.
Hange extended their hand, palm up, to Levi, looking at him expectedly. It took him a moment to realize what they wanted. As he dropped the matchbook into their palm, Levi noticed, not for the first time, all the little scars and cuts that decorated Hange's fingers.
Quickly, unexpectedly, before Levi could register the motion, Hange's other hand curled around his wrist. His whole body stiffened in response to the sensation of the oddly gentle long fingers pressing right upon his skin.
Levi looked at Hange. For a heartbeat, nothing was said.
"This is your right hand," they told him.
His brows lowered. "Really?" Levi said flatly, the headache beginning to grow, "Well shit, I never knew."
Hange cracked a grin. "While I appreciate the jokes," they said, tucking the matches back into their chest pocket with their other hand, "You, smart-ass, are a lefty."
Hange reached down and before Levi knew it, Hange was holding both of his hands, palm up.
Without pause, Levi followed Hange's gaze to the disgusting string of raw red, blistering flesh across his palm.
Under the bright light of the well-illuminated hall, the burn looked notably gnarly. Staff and soldiers who scurried past cast the Squad Leader and infamous private a few curious glances, but none dared near.
"I'm omnidexterious," he deadpanned.
Hange raised a brow at him.
Without looking away, their thumb stretched forward to brush over Levi's tiny injury. While Levi could swallow a wince, he couldn't hide the way his muscles jerked in response to the sudden stab of pain.
"With a preference for your left," Hange hummed with a sweet smile, but their eyes were as sharp and unyielding as they had been upon the rooftop.
Levi curled his fingers shut, hiding the minuscule wound from view.
"You begin your attacks by twisting into your left," Hange continued, "And when you adjust your grip on your swords, you always do the right second. While you can do knife tricks equally well with both hands, but you always attack with this one. Your right one is reserved for holding tea cups and flipping me off."
Promptly, Levi pulled his right hand free and rolled his middle finger up with an expressionless stare.
Hange couldn't help but snicker. With a shake of their head, they let go of him.
"No injuries, my ass. Honestly, those medics should know better than to listen to you. I'm going to have to lecture them tomorrow. Agh!" Hange threw their arms in the air with the sharp exhale of exasperation and then dug into their disheveled hair as they rambled, "Lord, I hate lecturing! I'm really not built for it, y'know? But it's so stupidly unprofessional of them! To go and listen to a soldiers dismissal! They should be dragging you kicking and screaming back to the cots, strapping you in, stripping you and inspecting you after even a speckle of red was spotted on your cheek. Honestly! Ans they know how important you are, too! Ridiculous! Agh—! Hey, Levi, where are you— wait up! I'm not done badgering you about this."
Levi had resumed walking two words into Hange's rant.
Without bothering to glance over his should, Levi flatly said. "It's not even a cut." He took the turn to get upon the staircase. As he began to descend he added, "There's no blood, so it hardly counts as an injury."
Hange snorted from not far behind him, "I'm going to kick you down these stairs right now," they threatened, their steps echoing as they followed his descent, "And tell the medics to ignore your howls of pain from all 206 of your broken bones, because 'there's no blood, so it doesn't count.'" The last few words were clearly said in a ridiculous mimicry of Levi's notoriously dry voice.
Levi paused to look wearily over his shoulder at the pesky officer just a couple steps above him. Hange's eyes shined. They slowly raised their knee, their leg ready to strike out in the aforementioned kick.
"Does your mouth ever get tired from producing all the shit that comes out of it?"
"Do your eyes ever get tired from making everyone piss themselves with your petty glares?"
Levi narrowed his eyes at them. Hange didn't fight down their grin. They raised their leg higher and wiggled their foot, hovering it closer to his back.
For the brevity of their quick banter, Levi had almost forgotten the circumstances that had triggered it.
"Tch. They're not petty," was all he said and turned away, resuming his strike.
"Ah, Levi, wait," Hange whined quickly behind him.
A second later, Hange had childishly slid down the length of the wooden railing to beat him to the landing. They stumbled a little at the dismount, but quickly began to wave their arms around in effort to block Levi's path.
"Don't go just yet," they urged hurriedly, "We're near my lab. Come down with me. I know it's not bleeding, but it still needs attention. You and I both know how important your hands are. I have supplies downstairs. I promise I'll be quick. I can tell you're exhausted, but you'll sleep better with some salve and painkiller on it, y'know?"
Levi hesitated, eyeing them.
Hange... for all their noise and nosiness, could be hard to read at times. But just like all the other idiots in the Survey Corps., they never seemed to have an ulterior motive— even perhaps, when Levi wished they did.
His hand curled and uncurled at his side, careful not to squeeze the injury.
Hange had a point.
"Fine. Whatever," Levi relented. Hange's whole figure relaxed.
—
At their desk, Hange cupped the flame as they dipped the match into the gas lamp. Light flickered to life, casting a warm glow across the room and Hange's face. Levi watched eager shadows dance across the curves and angles of unconventionally handsome features.
Hange straightened, shaking the flame into nothing but a trail of smoke as they glanced at Levi, who remained close to the door. "Gimme a sec'," Hange requested before drifting away.
Levi watched them head to the storage closet at the back of the cluttered room, their figure and high ponytail vanishing behind towers of cardboard boxes and wooden crates.
Despite having known each other for over a year, this was the first time Levi and Hange were truly and properly alone. No one else was scurrying around the tiny laboratory, no soldiers were shuffling mindlessly down the hall, no subordinates or superiors were running around, watching or interrupting their conversation.
Levi's jaw tightened. Why was he thinking about that? Why was he feeling so... uneasy?
He stepped away from the door, leaving it open just a crack, and began to perimeter the lab.
The fingers of his good hand slid along the edge of a bookshelf. Upon inspection, Levi, unsurprisingly, found dust, but not a lot of it. Yes, the room was incredibly messy— with its book and paperwork towers upon the desk, folders left on every possible flat surface, half-open crates overflowing with gadgets and tools, and ODM parts littering what little vacant space remained upon Hange's desk— but it was clean. There was no dirt, no filth. No spills or stains. Levi could tell there was an order to the madness, that Hange knew where every little thing was.
Levi eyed the thick volumes upon the shelf he had just touched. He could only recognize some of the vowels of the titles upon the ornate spines, but nothing else. Although he had never mentioned it, Levi had a feeling both Erwin and Hange were well aware of his lack of literacy for both had a habit of reading even the most meaningless things aloud whenever he was around. Levi would've taught himself to read long ago, if he only knew how.
Ignoring the sharpening ache in his left hand, he moved to the next cupboard and his inspection of the basement room continued.
Jars with questionable items suspended in equally questionable liquid decorated many of the highest shelves. Levi's lips curled down when he spotted a tin can of strawberry candy next to a jar of what looked like a floating reptile skeleton.
Other markers of Hange's personality plagued the laboratory. Colorful ribbons and battered bookmarks poked out from the yellowed pages of thick books. Inky curses, doodles and more decorated the margins of countless calculations on scrap paper. Name tags identified microscopes as "Billy," "Mandy," and more.
The plush bear Mike had given Hange as a gag present for their birthday last September sat on the indented cushions of the corner couch. By its squashed and hazard appearance, Levi could tell Hange had been using it as a pillow on the many nights they slept here. For too long, Levi found himself staring at the stuffed animal— picturing the hurricane that was Hange Zoe falling down upon it, exhausted and already drooling. If he let himself remember, he could recall lying to his mother about not wanting a toy just like it so she wouldn't feel guilty for not being able to afford it.
Levi stopped at Hange's desk, eyeing the sloppy diagrams but neat numbers on the paper of their latest project. An extra pair of Hange's expedition goggles hung off the back of the wooden chair. Their regular glasses hovered at the edge of their desk, a fine black fingerprint caught on the metal bridge and edge of the lens. Levi hesitated and then reached for them. Carefully, on the cuff of the crisp white shirt the infirmary had given him, Levi cleaned Hange's glasses. He set them down closer to the center of the desk, where they weren't at risk for being knocked down and shattering on the floor.
"Sorry, sorry!" Hange's voice rang from the storage closet. Levi heard what sounded like an icebox door shutting. He hummed in response and folded his arms over his chest as he continued to eye his surroundings as their steps scurried his way.
"You take care of this room more than you take care of yourself," Levi said drily as Hange appeared at the corner of his vision.
"Well, I have to," Hange answered, "It's my baby."
"You, a parent? Sounds damn terrifying," Levi deadpanned.
Hange chuckled. "Don't shoot me down so quickly, Levi. I just hit a personal record of keeping my pet plant alive for half a month."
Pet plant, Levi mused silently. He hadn't heard that one before.
"But it's because this room is priceless, really," Hange continued as they carefully set the medicine kit and cool compress at the edge of the crowded table, "Decades and decades of research on the walls, on Titans, all that's left of humanity's knowledges— you can find it all here, carefully cumulated over the years of military service. It's all been here before I was even born and it'll be here long after I'm a gaggle of bones floating around in a Titan's stomach."
Levi watched Hange carefully attempt to clear more space on their desk by ordering papers and books into taller towers.
"Is that your dream way to go?" He asked.
"Yup," Hange answered cheerily, visibly concentrating on making sure the towers were sturdy and not in danger of suddenly falling over. "But only if I'm fully conscious and can be swallowed whole, or at least whole enough to observe what's going around me. It'd be extra nice if I could take a journal with me and have the Titan shit it or burp it out, too. Because it really is a shame that they just… evaporate. Just vanish in a fit of steam. We can't poke around at their digestive systems at all. Ah, it's so bizarre, Levi. What creature just evaporates after dying? How rude of them; how inefficient— leaving nothing to fertilize the land that feeds their prey."
Perhaps Hange hadn't been aware that Levi was watching them, because this was the first time he saw how haunting and murderous their eyes were despite how bright and airy their voice thrummed. Hange glanced at Levi. They quickly pulled their goggles down to the bridge of their nose, the lenses reflecting the light from the lamp and shielding their gaze from Levi's sight.
A book slipped. Levi moved to catch it before it hit the ground.
"Thanks," Hange said. Their touch didn't linger when it brushed over Levi's fingers as the book passed between them. Levi didn't know why he had expected it to.
"Come closer," Hange said after they set the book back to the table. A small stubborn part of Levi wanted to find excuse not to, a petty reason to brush them off— but he was already here and unable to think of anything So, he obeyed. There wasn't enough energy and pride left in him to argue with Hange when they urged him to take a seat upon the cleared corner of the desk. Although he would never admit it, he was glad he did so, for his legs crumbled with relief and his whole body slackened the instance he sat down.
When Hange extended their palm forward, Levi set his hand in it. How warm Hange was.
Levi couldn't decipher their expression, for their head was already tilted down toward his sorry excuse for a wound. "
Ah, jeez, Levi," Hange exhaled softly in tone Levi couldn't remember ever hearing from everyone. He swallowed. Hange shook their head in disbelief. "You're really something," they accused with a quiet chuckle, "This is a pretty gnarly burn and I can tell you showered with hot water, too, you idiot. It looks like such a pain. Does it really not hurt?"
When Hange looked up at him, he looked down at the wound. "I bear it."
Hange squeezed his hand, hold tightened only along the perimeter in a careful reprimand. "Wrong answer," they said.
"Want me to start bitching? Throwing a tantrum and crying a river?"
"Yes, please. I need something to lift the mood."
Levi only smirked, but Hange's face lit up as brightly as the dancing light on the table. "Hoo, hoo! I made you smile," they declared in a triumphant whisper, a shit-eatting grin blooming at their lips.
"It was a grimace," Levi replied darkly.
"To hide your overflowing joy at my comedic genius?" Hange hummed cheerily.
"You're begging for a matching burn."
Hange, still grinning, continued to hold Levi's hand as they reached for the disinfectant pads. "Yes, sir, I am. Oooh, I can't wait. Erwin's going to be seething with jealousy, he hates get left out of things, nosey bastard."
"Pot calls the kettle black," Levi retorted drily. Hange laughed, but denied nothing. Gently, they disinfecting the raw strip of skin across Levi's palm. He watched them work. For a moment, the two of them let silence fill the air.
Hange set aside the used pad and reached for the cold compress they had pulled out of the icebox. Cradling Levi's hand, Hange pressed the cool cloth bag to his palm. Despite how much Levi had been telling himself the pain was negligible, every fiber of his being loosened and relaxed the instant the comforting cold eased the throbbing ache. If Hange noticed, they didn't tease him about it.
Perhaps involuntarily, Hange's thumb rubbed over the little bit of palm it was still touching.
"Are you used to pain?" Hange asked gently, curiously. The question surprised Levi and he was sure it showed.
"No," he answered after a long moment, "I'm not one for going out of my way to get hurt."
Playfully, Hange squeezed the underside of Levi's hand once more. "Right answer," he understood with Hange having to say it.
"Then, I'm sure Mike is beyond grateful," Hange told Levi, "I know he would've been pretty pissed if he died in such a lame way."
Levi hummed. He wished Hange had kept their goggles pushed back so it would've been easier to see their face.
"The idiot seemed pretty shaken up over this whole mess," Levi murmured quietly.
Hange sighed and confessed, "We all are." Hange pulled the cold compress from his hand. They asked if it felt a little better, Levi told them it did.
When Hange began to gingerly spread salve over the burn, Levi marveled at the gentleness of a pair of hands that slew Titans so easily and punched so effectively. Was his touch the same?
"Did you know," Hange spoke up with their lips slightly curved down, "that over the course of the hundred years that we've been trapped here… that there hasn't been a single recorded case, not a single observation, of Titan on Titan violence?"
Levi tensed. His gaze flickered over what he could see of Hange's face.
"Sometimes," Hange whispered, as if at confession, "It feels like I'm studying the wrong thing. That I should be looking at us. Wondering why the hell we still kill and hurt each other. There's not exactly an abundance of us left. How silly, sometimes, to think we are the ones that are the victims, when we were the ones that built this pen for ourselves. Maybe the Titans are lucky, maybe the walls help them more than us."
Hange reached for the gauze.
For a long moment, silence lingered.
As Hange carefully wound the bandages around Levi's hand when he asked, "Why do you think they did it?"
Hange shrugged. "Money, probably," Hange murmured, "That's what most people trade their morals for, isn't it?" When Hange looked up at him, Levi glanced away, despite the lack of judgement in Hange's frank gaze.
"Do you resent me for it?" Levi asked, watching the flickering flame of the lamp.
"Of course not," Hange replied perhaps a little too quickly. "You…were forced to pay more than enough for your mistakes, Levi."
He turned back to them. Hange smiled weakly. Levi didn't know what to say.
It was Hange's turn to look down. They snipped the roll of bandages and reached for the little metal butterfly pin to secure it. As Levi watched them do, he murmured, "There's no recorded case of them helping each other either."
Hange blinked. "Huh?"
"Tch. Your damn Titans, Hange," Levi grumbled, "There's no record of them ever doing this shit to each other, right?" Levi curled and uncurled the fingers of the hand Hange was still holding for emphasis.
Hange gave him an odd look and then, like a flower opening its petals in celebration of an early spring, their whole face bloomed once more into a cheesy grin. "Ha! Shit! You're totally right!" Hange started laugh.
Levi scowled. "What the hell is so funny?"
Hange pressed their lips tightly together to stifle their giggles, but their eyes shined brightly at Levi. They shrugged one shoulder. "You're just really charming, that's all," Hange told him.
"What the hell are you going on about?" Levi asked, eyes narrowing.
His bandages were secured. Hange was done. But when they pulled away, Levi grabbed their wrist. The movement startled both of them.
"Oi, Four-Eyes," Levi said quickly to dissipate the weird air between them, "Answer me."
Hange looked up from the fingers around their wrist and their previously bright expression faltered slightly. "Your knuckles… the bruises are starting to show."
Levi hesitated. "I know." His hold on Hange's wrist slackened.
Hange smiled weakly. Their fingertips kissed the bluing knuckles.
A soft knock rapped on the door. They startled, hands jerking apart.
"Come in!" Hange said cheerily, slowly stepping away from Levi.
Captain Patricia had arrived with the documents Hange requested. She had the sense to not comment on the faint pink glow on both her Squad Leader's and Levi's cheeks.
Although Levi never did get an answer out of Hange, Hange did quietly offer him to crash on the couch if he was too tired to go to his room.
—
The next morning Levi had set a cup of warm tea by sleeping Hange's arms and draped the cover they gave him over their hunched shoulders.
There was no need for an investigation, or for an interrogation. Wrecked with guilt, the scout confessed in a blubbering mess to everything Shadis' and Erwin needed to know the instance they woke.
The three attackers had been the lowest ranked of the cadets, forced to join the Survey Corps. All hailed from the poorest villages, their meager salaries routinely sent back to hungry families. An MP officer had approached them with the offer of MP positions in exchange for staging an Erwin-led coup against Shadis'. The MP were sick of how many military funds were being diverted toward the useless Survey Corps.
In the coming months, the scout was trialed and executed. By the next recruitment period, Commander Shadis finally relented to Erwin's idea of accepting only volunteers into the Survey Corps. Their numbers drastically dwindled, but those that joined stayed much longer.