Chapter Four
My tears feel cool against my cheeks as a feverish spasm abruptly seizes me for the third time that hour. Nanaba is silently rubbing soothing circles along my back. From the corner of my eye I notice my Captain's motionless silhouette leaning against the wall on the other side of the curtain. I imagine his dirty blond mop of head bowed in reverent silence, lips pursed in a concerned frown. The tension in his broad shoulders evident as he continues his silent vigil.
"Funny," my first words since the doctor's departure are hoarse and hollow. "He almost looks like he's standing guard."
Nanaba turns silently to appraise Captain Mike Zacharias with a studious frown before wordlessly returning her attention to me. My hands are clasped painfully around her long, slender fingers. She doesn't flinch. Instead leaning forward to nudge my forehead affectionately with hers. Her free hand reaches to wipe the tears away from my eyes. I stubbornly brush them aside.
"I'm fine."
We both know I'm anything but as the lie hangs unchallenged in the space around us.
Captain Mike stirs, silently sniffing the air as his arms fall from his chest. Nanaba turns to face him. They must have exchanged a knowing look through the curtain that I miss. My breath hitches loudly as fear seizes me with a feverish shudder.
I sense your presence drawing near even before my ears pick up the familiar rhythm of your footsteps. I know what must be done and yet I haven't the strength to face you. So when Nanaba finally moves to extricate her hands from my grasp, I seize the front of her shirt and pull her into an uncomfortably tight embrace. A moment before our bodies touch, our eyes meet briefly.
Don't leave me! I pleaded, rubbing her back beseechingly. My eyes watch as your silhouette finally joins Mike's. The height difference alone would have normally teased a smile from my lips as I watched my Captain greet you with a respectful nod.
"Is everything alright?" I hear you ask quietly. "Your note sounded urgent."
"It is." My Captain responds gravely. "But I'm not sure…no it isn't my place to say." His gaze trails towards me and I lose all feeling in my arms and legs when you mimic him.
"I see." You state softly watching me through the curtain.
"Do you want me to stay?" Nanaba whispers breathlessly, pulling away to meet my gaze. "Just say the word—"
"I'm fine." I lie once more as I finally release her hands. Her lips twist into a warm smile as she rises to leave. I grab her wrists at the last moment, holding her firmly in place as our eyes meet.
He must never know. A sheen of understanding flashes in her sapphire blue eyes as she nods.
I release her and watch as she straightens her shirt, reaching back to pull back the curtain. She turns and gives me one last nod before departing.
"Get well soon." My Captain says with a grim nod before following her.
"What's wrong?" You ask. I shake my head, wordlessly reaching out to you from the hospital bed. Hesitation flashes in your eyes as your gaze roams around the room. I take the chance and hastily wipe away my eyes once I feel like you are distracted. My movements must have caught you attention because you turn your shoulders and face me once more. "Petra. Tell me what's wrong."
I shake my head stubbornly, opening and closing my palm as I reach out to you once more.
"Come here." You close the distance between us, enveloping my shuddering form with the indescribable furnace of your embrace. I remembered closing my eyes and listening to the soothing rhythm of your breathing slowly lulling me to sleep.
Weeks later a thought comes to me as we stand side by side over my apartment sink, elbows brushing intimately. I turn to face you, studying your profile quietly.
"What's wrong?" You ask without turning to face me as you hand me the final dish to dry.
"What is your real name?" Your brows twist at this as you finally turn to face me.
"Levi is my real name." You reply slowly. I set the plate aside and move to pull out the trunk beneath my bed. You fall to your knees and gently nudge my hands out of the way as you pull it out for me. I lead you towards the dining table and direct you to set it down. "Open it."
"Just tell me what it is." You say with a tired sigh, turning to face me. I lean against the edge of the table, shaking my head with a coy smile. You move to return to the dishes, prompting me to lift the trunk's lid with a dramatic flourish, halting you in your tracks. "You really shouldn't fold your clothes like that. No wonder they rumple so easily."
Heat tints my cheeks as I shift my garments aside to reveal a scroll.
"What is it?" You ask hesitantly. I snatch the scroll and unfurl it with a small eye roll, holding it high enough for you to read. "What is this?" Your voice is eerily still as your steely-blue eyes shift to appraise me with a small frown.
"It's a marriage certificate."
"I can see that." You respond quietly. "I was obviously asking why you had one." Your eyes narrow as you notice your first name printed in the scrivener's majestic cursive.
"Imagine how embarrassing it is realizing that you don't know the last name of the man you're about to marry."
"There's a reason for that."
"Afraid someone would secretly sign your name into the marriage registry?" I tease with a girlish giggle.
"The answer is no."
"Picture it—no more sneaking around. No more quickies in the common room bathroom—we can finally get our own place and move in together."
"We don't need to get married to change any of those things." You state matter-of-factly.
"I know, but it's just appropriate."
"Who gives a fuck about propriety?" You scoff, shaking your head dismissively.
"I do, Levi." I shoot back, moving to block your path.
"Petra, marriage doesn't solve anything."
"You don't know that. You can't know that because you've never been married."
"Neither have you."
"And I want to change that."
"You're nineteen. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why would you—" I abruptly cut off your words by closing the distance between us and crashing my lips against yours.
It is rare for you to fall asleep before me, even rarer than these forbidden moments we steal every now and then. The clouds part briefly, sending a silver sliver of moonlight streaming through the window. I open my eyes, turning my head ever so slightly to consider you in awesome wonder. My gaze lingers longingly as I trace the slight bulge of your shoulder blades. I silently study the outline of each visible vertebra dotting your muscular back, tracing the dip of your spine down to the light crease of your toned buttocks, partially obscured by the sweat-soaked sheets clinging to your skin.
A sharp breath escapes me as the familiar tingle in my nipples returns. I lower my fingers to my breasts quietly tracing the puffy areola with a frown. I marvel at their heft. Although part of me is encouraged by their continued growth, a larger part of me hopes that they will shrink. You stir beside me, shifting the sheets lower as you turn to your side, eyelids pressed firmly in obvious annoyance.
Although I should wake you up, I decide to let you sleep some more as I shift towards the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as the bandages wrapped around my side tighten painfully. Tears sting my eyes once more as I am reminded of the familiar hollowness within me. I twist slightly to examine the bandages wrapped snuggly around my midsection but freeze when I feel the mattress dip beneath me as you turn to watch me. My hands fly to clasp my breasts, hiding my leaking nipples away from view as I turn to distract you with a warm smile.
"Are you hungry?" I ask, watching you slowly pull yourself up to lean against your elbows. "Nanaba left over a batch of cupcakes. I can warm some in the oven if you—"
"How far along are you?" I pretend not to have heard, ignoring the pain in my side as I rise from the bed. You grab my wrist, holding me in place, forcing me to avert my gaze, desperate to hide my tears from you.
"I'm so sorry." I manage to face you as I choke back tears. You release me as your hand falls limply to the bed.
"Don't." You shake your head softly. "You did nothing wrong. I'm the one who should be apologizing."
"Marry me. Levi." I beseech you, gently taking your face in my hands as I kneel unto the bed, straddling you.
"Ackerman." At first I am not sure if I had heard you correctly or if you had even spoken at all. You shift to meet my gaze and I swagger dangerously as the weight of your revelation finally hits me. Your hands catch me and gently lower me to your lap. "It's my mother's last name…never knew my father."
"Captain Levi Ackerman," I repeat softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss at the corner of your lips.
"When do you take your leave?" My hands fall away and I rise from your embrace without offering a response. "Petra?"
"I'm not taking one!" My voice comes out sharper than I had intended as my fists tremble at my side. Confusion and concern twist your boyish features as you reflexively lower you gaze to my bandaged midsection. Another tremor seizes me, this time of rage as I rip the bandage away revealing the scar of the surgeon's knife. "There's nothing there anymore! It's empty! I'm empty…"
Tears blur my vision as I back away from you. My knees abruptly give out. You are inexplicably there to cushion my fall. I squirm within your embrace as you shift me unto your lap once more, holding me fast against you.
"I've been unforgivably careless with you. I'm sorry." I want to scream and shove you away.
"I want another one." Although the protest is evident in your deep blue eyes, you wordlessly gather me up and return me to the bed. You do not resist as I silently roll you unto your back, straddling you once more before slipping you inside me. There is a distant sheen in your eyes as you watch my swollen breasts bounce with the momentum of my hips. My heart breaks every time I remember the wounded sigh that accompanied your climax that night. I pretend not to notice the heavy grief in your shoulders as you finally rise to take a bath once you are content that I am sated.
It is nothing compared to mine. I had rationalized. After all, you didn't have to live with the harrowing emptiness within you. Didn't have to avert your gaze whenever it strayed to your midsection. None of your scars, both seen and unseen, will ever match mine. You silently agree and keep a respectful distance.
Months pass. My hair grows and my breasts finally shrink back to their original size. My stomach remains infuriatingly flat. Sitting before my mirror watching Lynne trim the ends of my blonde locks, I realize how long it's been since I've seen you.
I am surprised when you respond to my letter and greet you with a respectful salute. You wordlessly shift aside in the carriage, inviting me to join you.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" You ask arching an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Everything." I shrug. "I shouldn't have seduced you. It was wrong to pressure you into this affair in the first place."
"You didn't pressure me into doing anything, Petra." I notice the clipped edge in your voice and smile in spite of myself. "How have you been?"
"Small talk is beneath you, Captain Ackerman."
"Just Levi." You correct pointedly. "And it's not small talk." You shift imperceptibly to face me. "I really want to know."
"I'm doing much better now."
"Tsk." You cross your arms in mild annoyance. "You're a lousy liar."
"And you're a lousy lover." It is all I could do to not burst out laughing in your face when I notice the look of genuine shock.
"I did warn you." You deadpan. I gasp as your lips twist imperceptibly in amusement. "What?" You ask when you notice me watching you.
"I think that's the first time I've ever really seen you smile."
"Then you clearly haven't been paying attention." You shrug. The carriage turns unto another street, driving you towards me, forcing our shoulders together. My breath hitches as our eyes meet.
"I hear there's an opening on the Special Operations Squad," I say clearing my throat loudly as you pull away. I pretend not to notice the coldness in your gaze as you turn to appraise me once more.
"Tsk. Oluo Bozado has a big mouth." You grumble. I reach into the inner pocket of my jacket and pull out a scroll of paper which I hold out to you. "What's this?"
"My application, sir," I reply with a curt salute. The icy sheen in your gaze falls as your eyes study mine, searching intently for any excuse to refuse me.
Relief floods me as you reluctantly accept the scroll from my hand. You tuck it away without even glancing at it.
"So that's that then." You mutter dryly to yourself as you adjust your jacket. The carriage has begun to slow down now and you are preparing to take your leave. "In the end, it was all a waste of time."
You once told me that powerful men didn't have to be cruel. I learned firsthand the immense cruelty you were capable of that morning.
I remember my jaw growing slack as I watched you disembark, slamming the door behind you without so much as a backward glance. Although I wanted to call out to you, to say something in my defense, I thought better of it at the last moment and stilled my tongue. The carriage took off again, rocking me numbly as it carried me further away from you.
There are days when I wonder if you can tell that I still love you. I often hope that you will notice it when I stand beside you, fuss over you, argue with you and call out to you. If you notice, you do not care enough to ever address or even acknowledge it. Whenever we are alone, my eyes seek yours out watching, hoping, expecting that spark of passion you once reserved for me to return.
It never does.
I feel as hollow and empty as that dreadful morning after the surgery, when the doctors removed the corpse from within me. The days bleed together as training drills, expeditions and exercises wheeze by in a blur. My bed feels too big and too cold now. So I fill it with different lovers every now and then. A former classmate in the Military Police last night. A dashing captain from the Garrison a month before. Part of me rationalizes that you do the same even though I suspect deep down inside that I would be your first and last.
Soon I permit myself to begin to forget bits and pieces here and there. It is frighteningly easier than I expected. As far as I can tell, Captain Mike and Nanaba are the only other souls who knew of our secret. They never acknowledge it, respectfully letting it pass unspoken. I suspect it is because they share a similar secret of their own. If they do, they are far less careless with theirs than we were with ours.
Some days are harder to get through. I wonder if it is the same for you. It has to be. Even though I shouldn't, I selfishly hope that the pain of our loss lingers deep within you, beneath your stoic facade. Although it hurts too much to remember, I am far too afraid to forget.
You are my greatest love. I know this now. You gave me peace. Joy. Life. Love. Clawed your way from darkness to light. So please…remember.
XXX
My light blue eyes blinked lazily at the amber rays of sunlight streaming through the canopy of trees high above. Suddenly Ymir is standing across from me, her deep brown eyes heavy with the sheen of unshed tears as the earth rumbles around us. I lose my balance after a particularly nasty tremor sends me stumbling forward. Ymir's long strong hands protectively wrap around me, arresting her progress. I turn to give her a grateful smile but stop cold when I notice the grotesque visage of her titan form.
"Ymir?" I call out nervously backing away as the titan tilts its head in bemusement.
"Historia!" Armin calls arms held up as he sprints towards me. "Get away from her!" Behind him Sasha and Connie are charging on horseback as Eren, Mikasa and Jean glide through the air, omni-directional gear hissing and clicking frantically.
"It's alright!" I call back throwing my hands up to placate my friends. "She won't harm—" My breath hitches painfully in my throat as Ymir leaps high into the air, snatching Eren with her long, sharp claws.
"EREN!" Jean and Armin cry out.
"GIVE HIM BACK!" Mikasa screeches at the top of her lungs spinning her blades in the titan's direction. Although Ymir ducks away in time to avoid a lethal blow to the nape of her neck, Mikasa's blades slice through her shoulder blade, sending her left arm flying through the air. I watch helplessly as the prodigious protector extricates Eren from the clutches of Ymir's severed arm before retreating to the trees. An enraged Ymir turns to give chase.
The forest quakes with the force of Ymir's anguished howls as the thrashing titan charges at us. I leap between the charging titan and my retreating friends, arms raised protectively high as I implore Ymir to calm down and see reason. The tremors grow closer and closer as Ymir's momentum propels her forward. Fear seizes me as I finally realize that Ymir is charging towards me, reaching back her newly-healed hand to cleave me in two.
Throwing my hands over my head reflexively, I duck and close my eyes as the titan descends upon me. An earsplitting bellow shakes the forest around us sending me crashing to my knees. Heavy sheets of dark blood rains down upon my crouching form, soaking me through as the wailing titan crashed to its knees. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I took in the steaming remains of Ymir's titan head, rolling along the ground.
Captain Levi lands in front of me, pausing long enough to survey the area for any casualties before sheathing his blades and scooping me into his blood-stained hands.
A gentle scrape along the kitchen floor rouses Historia from her nap. A small hand groggily wipes the trail of spittle clinging to the corner of her mouth as she slowly but surely sits up. Relief washed over her features as remnants of her nightmare bombarded her sleep-addled mind. She heard a chair creak loudly and turned to watch Captain Levi settle down unto the dining chair opposite hers at the head of the table, a steaming teacup secured tightly beneath his long, strong fingers.
"What time is it?" Blonde brows crease as she scans the kitchen, absent-mindedly scooping her hair into a loose ponytail.
"Little after three." The Captain mutters, tipping his teacup gently towards his lips before lowering it back unto its saucer on the table.
"Where is everybody?" Historia wonders as she takes in the empty kitchen. Save for a few muffled footfalls upstairs, the entire cottage is eerily still. Captain Levi traces her gaze to the kitchen ceiling, leaning his armpit over the backrest of his chair as he stirs his teacup with his free hand.
"Well, Eren just woke up so Armin and Mikasa are attending to him." Blue eyes crease with boredom as he continues. "Kirchstein and the others are either out getting supplies or patrolling the perimeter."
"I see." She mutters meekly, folding her hands unto her lap. His gaze shifts to her and suddenly the room around them inexplicably feels vast and cramped all at once.
"Tell me," the teacup clinks softly as he lowers it once more to its saucer. "The night your mother died…the Military Police officer who killed her mentioned something about your father panicking after the fall of Wall Maria and urged him not to act rashly by taking you in. Any idea what exactly he was talking about?"
She shook her head.
"Did your father ever mention anything to you about the walls and why there might be titans hidden within them?" Historia shook her head again, prompting an exasperated scoff from the Captain as he drained his cup with one final sip. "Fucking figures. These bastards sure play things close to the chest."
"I returned your shirt." She informs him abruptly changing the topic as she leaned back in her chair to study his reaction.
"I saw." He mutters, clasping his fingers together as if in prayer before lowering his head unto them, his eyes heavy with fatigue.
"And the other thing." She adds quietly. A moment passes as she watches him expectantly, waiting for him to acknowledge this bit of information. He places the spoon in the teacup as he rises from his chair, carrying the cup and saucer with him. "Petra's diary."
"Oh?" He shifts to glance at her over his shoulder. "I take it you read enough of it to determine its owner." Historia shook her head.
"No, sir." She replied. "I read all of it."
"Why are you telling me this?" He wonders, turning fully to face her now. She rises and walks around the table, sapphire blue eyes never once leaving his as she approached him with slow measured steps. When she was close enough, she gently tugged the cup and saucer from his grasp, before retreating to wash them by the sink.
"I'm not sure really." She replied finally with a shrug as she sets the newly-washed teacup aside. "I suppose I didn't think it was right invading your privacy like that and getting away with it."
"So why pry in the first place?" He wondered leaning against the kitchen table watching her. She considered a response briefly before giving up, offering a noncommittal shrug and nothing more. "I suppose it couldn't be helped."
"You're not upset, sir?" She asks clearly taken aback. It is his turn to offer a noncommittal shrug.
"Why should I be?" He asked arching an eyebrow inquisitively. "I have nothing to hide."
"May I ask you a personal question, sir?" Deep blue eyes flick towards her, appraising her wordlessly. "Why don't you use your last name?"
"Habit I suppose." He replies tersely without further elaboration.
"Are you ever going to tell Mikasa?"
"If it ever becomes relevant, I won't have to."
"I see." Although his response confuses her even further, she decides against pushing her luck by pressing the matter.
"Earlier when you were sleeping, you mumbled something about Ymir." Historia froze as the harrowing screeches of the titan's death throes reverberated through her. "I could be wrong but it seemed like you were pleading with someone on her behalf."
"Y-yes. I was." The blonde replies, moistening her lips with a pink tongue as she watches him push off from the kitchen counter to walk away. "I was begging Ymir to calm down, so the others wouldn't hurt her."
"Did it work?" Although the inflection of his voice suggested that he already suspected the answer, Historia indulged him with a silent shake of her head.
"It was you who killed her." She watches him linger briefly by the doorway before moving to walk away. "You don't seem surprised."
"Should I be? Sounds exactly like something I would do." He turned to face her once more, his eyes suddenly stern and attentive. "When the time comes, I need you to understand that."
"You sound so certain we're going to meet them again." She observes with a mix of hope and dread. His eyes narrow perceptively at this and she knows that he has seen through her.
"Anyone who thinks otherwise has either not been paying attention or ought to stop kidding themselves."
"That simple huh? If only it was that simple for me too." He opens and closes his mouth several times before finally deciding against voicing whatever had been at the tip of his tongue as he turns to walk away. Her small hands seize the sleeve of his jacket, holding him firmly in place. Their eyes meet once more as she softly beseeches him. "There has to be a trick to it. A way to kill that fear and apprehension."
"It's different for everybody, that I know for sure." Captain Levi muses. "That being said, you have to learn to let the past die. Kill it, if you must. When the moment comes—and believe me it will—you cannot let it slip by. Our enemies thrive on hesitance and sentimentality. It's the reason the Armored and Colossal Titans almost escaped with Eren. If the opportunity presents itself, go for the kill."
"But how?" Her voice quivers ever so slightly. "How can I force myself to forget?" Tears stream down her cheeks as she is reminded of Petra's melancholy musings. "They're my friends. Some of them dearer to me than others. We survived through thick and thin together. How can I bring myself to kill them?"
"I'll be damned if I know." He shrugs wearily before walking away. She considers his retreating back silently, replaying their conversation over and over again in her head.
He knows more than he lets on. He has to. No one suffers through what he has had to endure without learning painful lessons like that. Her suspicions are confirmed later on that evening as the entire group gathered in the main room to listen to Section Commander Hange's harrowing report.
"They tortured him," Armin observes softly. "P-presumably for information. Did they just want to know what he passed on to us?"
"Most likely." The Captain replies after a sip of his tea. "But these are the interior MP's we're dealing with so you can bet that there's more at work here. Now," he shifts to face the Section Commander, "how many nails was the good pastor missing?"
Section Commander Hange Zoe starts slightly as she turns to face him but offers no response at first. Historia's stomach turned as a mental image of Pastor Nick's battered corpse lying in a pool of his own blood flashed before her.
"Well? How many?" He presses on. "You saw right?"
How on earth is this even remotely relevant? Historia wonders silently to herself as she watches him.
"I only saw a glimpse of him." The Section Commander reports. "But all the nail beds I saw were empty."The petite blonde's stomach turns again as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair, lips pursed firmly together in horror and disgust.
"I see. People who talk typically talk after one. If they don't, ripping off more won't make a difference." Historia's gaze reflexively shifts to the Captain's own fingers. Relief floods her as she notes each neatly trimmed fingernail on his hand.
While it is clear that his words were inspired by his own personal experience, she wonders when exactly he could have encountered such horrors.
"I'm impressed." The Captain muses quietly. "I didn't think highly of Pastor Nick. But whatever his faults, he stuck to his beliefs until the end. Which means," our eyes meet as you turn to face me. "They have no idea we've caught on about the Reiss family. The government is up to something and we've got a target on our backs."
Nifa storms in almost on cue with a letter from Commander Ervin Smith which she promptly delivers to the Captain.
"Get your gear now!" He orders rising to his feet. "We're leaving. Make it look like we were never here!"
Author's Note: I am deeply touched by the outpouring of warm encouragement and support you all have given me and this little plot bunny of mine through your kind reviews, favorites, and story alerts. Your support brings a smile to my face each and every day. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I hope to see you all very soon.
P.S.: A few quotes and phrases littered here and there were borrowed from the trailers of Knight of Cups and Live by Night.