Chapter 12: No Use Crying Over Spilt Tea

Nora had been staring for several drawn-out seconds, frozen in place, barely aware of the erratic rise and fall of her chest or even the dull, residual pain in her abdomen. Then, reality caught up with her.

She had stabbed a man in the heart. On purpose. A man who had likely never received more than basic military training, never seen a real battle. In an alleyway in the middle of a major Marleyan city, with streetlights right around the corner.

And they were trapped on this continent for another half day.

"Shit." Her hands flew into her hair, fisting around the strands, tugging hard. "Shit shit shit shit shit…" Her voice was loud, but only in her head. All she let escape was a sort of high-pitched whisper.

Mechanically, she picked up the now-ownerless knife—stained with her blood—and slipped it into the pocket of her coat. Then, she went back to the body, bent down and pulled her own knife from the wound; the knife she had gotten from the man who had taught her how to aim for the heart, in the first place. A short gush of blood followed, drenching the dead man's front further, the crimson spreading on his formerly white shirt. It would have been considerably more if his heart had still been beating, a left-over rational part of her mind supplied, very unhelpfully.

The rest of her was currently freaking the fuck out.

What was she supposed to do? Just leave him there and go find Levi? Or should she wait and—

Steps at her back. She whirled around, raising the bloody knife in her hand.

When she recognised Levi, the breath that had caught in her throat rushed out of her mouth, and she lowered the blade, loosening her grip on the handle.

"Why the hell did you run off on—" He stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene he'd walked into. For a brief moment there, his eyes widened. He looked from the corpse at her feet back up to her, took a double-take at the mostly healed, steaming wound on her stomach. The bleeding had already stopped.

"I see you've kept yourself busy," Levi said after several seconds, voice flat, expression back to his standard mild displeasure. "I was gone for ten minutes, tops."

Nora wiped down the bloodied blade with her already ruined blouse. Her movements were stiff, imprecise. "A lot can happen in ten minutes." She sounded strange, shaky, monotone.

"I told you to sit tight and wait."

She took a measured breath through her nose, sheaving her knife back in her boot before she managed to compose an answer that wasn't infused with biting sarcasm. That wouldn't be any more productive than his unnecessary reprimands.

"He saw us at the market, and he knew. He was about to—"

"You can explain later. First, we have to get rid of this mess and get the hell away from here." He stepped closer to the body, examined the man's face, then the fatal wound on his chest. "Did anyone see you?"

"No. That's why I lured him back here, in the first place."

With his eyes still on the dead man, he only nodded to that—which was at least a slight improvement over him scolding her for not staying put like an ill-behaved dog.

Ten seconds of calm assessment passed, at most, and Levi had made up his mind. "Alright. We'll take his wallet and his watch, make it look like a robbery." While he was talking, he bent down, retrieved said items from the body, pocketed them in his jacket. "The river's right behind the block. We'll dump him in there, and if we're lucky, for once, he gets found a good distance downstream. Maybe tomorrow, maybe only after a week. Identifying the corpse should also take a while. Till then, we should be long gone."

She gave a wooden nod, her mind processing what he was saying with a slight delay.

"If we get this right, no one should know that we've ever been here, or that we even exist. Regardless if they make the connection to this time and place." Levi shrugged off his jacket, folded it once and put it on a spot at the ground that didn't look too dirty. At first, Nora didn't understand why, but then he bent down to the bloodied corpse, heaving it over his shoulder with one arm. As if he was lifting an oversized rag doll instead of a fully-grown man.

And later, he would be able to conceal the bloodstains the corpse left on his shirt with the jacket he'd laid aside.

He straightened without effort, stabilising the body with his arm wrapped around the middle. "You make your way back to the estate immediately. I'll take care of this and catch up."

"What?" Nora's heart contracted, her subdued panic flaring again. "I'm not leaving you to deal with this alone, let me help you—"

"I don't need your help carrying the bastard. I can climb the fence around the corner and get to the riverbed while staying away from the street." Levi indicated the dark end of the alley with his free arm. One look at her rebellious expression, and he ruthlessly added, "If you go with me, we're just more likely to get caught."

Yeah, that stung. He was probably right, but that didn't make it any easier. Nor was it in any way reassuring; considering the picture he provided just now, she still had her doubts about the feasibility of his simple and straightforward plan.

"You'll climb a fence with a six-foot-something body slung over your shoulder," she said, her lowered voice dry with scepticism.

"That's what I just said," was his plain reply, as if she was hard of understanding, impatience written all over his face.

"Right. Why the hell not." Nora bit her lip, looked over her shoulder, trying to figure out how close the river was. The thought of leaving him here, unable to intervene or even know if something went wrong, was damn near unbearable. Shit, she despised having to split up with him. "At least let me wait in case someone sees you and—"

"No one's gonna see me," he hissed, cutting her off with more force than before, eyes narrowed. "Now fuck off from here as I ordered you to. We're on a mission, and I'm still your captain, just in case you've forgotten."

How she hated when he pulled rank on her; he, who usually listened to what she had to say, who always met her at eye level. How she hated feeling helpless, insufficient, useless. Like a small child.

A small, homicidal child.

They glared at each other for a few tense seconds. They couldn't afford any longer than that.

"Yes, sir," she replied at last, very softly, her voice pure acid. Nora's mind had sharpened again, the burning sensation in her stomach dulling the brain-freezing panic. Anger and frustration—at herself, at him, at her gut-wrenching fear for his safety—had taken over.

Levi made to pass her, pausing briefly once more, tilting his chin toward her middle. "And button up your goddamned coat. Your stab wound is showing."

She glanced down despite herself, still fuming—but not steaming, any longer; there wasn't a wound left, only a gaping hole in her blouse, the fabric drenched with blood. Her skin was smooth and unmarred, once more.

She stepped aside to let him through. "Just so you know," she whispered, glowering at him one last time, "if you get caught, I'll come after you and kill you myself. Captain."

#

The walk alone back to the estate felt like the longest Nora had ever taken. Every step of the way, she was plagued with awareness of Levi's absence, and of the blood concealed beneath her coat, wet and icky and clinging to her skin. Still, she made it back without any incident. On the outside, she was no different from anyone else. It was late, and not many people were roaming the streets.

But that man had been.

The first thing she did when she reached the estate was head into her bedroom, change into another shirt, and walk to Hange's room with the torn, bloody blouse draped over her arm, hidden beneath her coat she carried with her for this exact purpose. Nora entered her best friend's room without knocking, finding her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the narrow bed. She looked up from the notes and newspapers she'd been brooding over, spread out all around her on the mattress.

"Is there some kind of sitting room where we could talk—in private?" Nora asked under her breath before Hange could do more than open her mouth. "Preferably with a fireplace."

#

Nora recounted what had happened in a few terse sentences. It took less time than the flames needed to eat up the ruined piece of clothing. But the bare minimum was all she could bring herself to say while she felt sick with dread and uncertainty. She needed to preserve what little energy and composure she had left for when they all—all nine of them—would gather and she had to talk through it again. The exact hows and whys could wait till then.

After she finished, Hange didn't look angry, or accusatory, or even regretful. She simply closed the distance between them in one large stride and pulled Nora into a firm hug. Firm enough that, due to the height difference, her face pressed into Hange's collarbone—dammit, but had she gotten even thinner?—while the taller woman rested her pointy chin on top of Nora's head.

A strange sort of tension inside her—reaching from the set of her shoulders down to her gut—eased up a little, slowly unwinding as she returned her friend's embrace just as fiercely.

"I'm glad you're okay," Hange said. "And I know that look on your face; but you don't need to worry about him—I'm sure Levi will be—"

And that was exactly when the man missing showed his face, probably just in time to overhear Hange's last sentence. Quietly, Levi slipped into the room through the door he'd cracked open just as much as was necessary. Hange let go of Nora, which was somewhat unfortunate timing; her relief at the sight of him was so acute her knees went weak.

In one fist, Levi was holding a wallet—the wallet—and in his other, a bunched-up white cloth, probably stained with… blood that wasn't his own. He was already wearing a fresh shirt—one of his casual, long-sleeved greys, no buttons—and had shed jacket, hat and tie. He gave both of them a measured look, jaw tight, before he went over to the fireplace and threw the evidence into the flames.

"Your shirt?" he asked, watching the flames lick at the leather and the fabric, turning them black.

Nora swallowed. "Already burnt it."

"Good."

"The watch?" she asked in return.

"Guess I'll throw it into the sea."

Tomorrow. When they'd hopefully be on a ship taking them away from this blasted continent.

The ebony grandfather clock at the wall opposite the fireplace ticked away a minute of tense silence, each second a sting to Nora's brain. The thing was really getting on her strained nerves.

Hange was looking between them as if she expected… something? Nora had no idea what. After it became clear that none of the two had anything else to say, for now, Hange cleared her throat. "Okay. So. How about I get the squad, and then you two explain in detail what happened."

#

Levi went first. There wasn't much he had to report. He had got a few good looks at the facility from the outside of the premises, had scouted out all entrances. Each of them brightly lit, each of them manned with two guards. More soldiers in the side buildings and inside the facility, presumably. And even more wherever the nearest base might be; surely not too far from such an important place.

Next, Nora told them what had gone wrong, and how exactly it had come to the unfortunate incident in the back alley. When she explained what had originally caused the man's mistrust, Sasha was close to tears, and both she and Connie apologised profusely.

"It was mostly bad luck," Nora interjected before Levi could do more than scowl and open his mouth. "The man was particularly paranoid. Or vigilant, however you wanna see it. And he happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. We always knew checking out the facility posed a risk."

Hange heaved a heavy, noisy sigh, massaging her temples with her fingertips. "One of these days, our bad luck is bound to run out, right?"

Nora shrugged, couldn't help but think of the person who'd had even worse luck than them, today. "I wouldn't count on it."

#

She sat at the edge of the narrow bed, stooped. The post-battle drain had finally taken full hold of her, left her muscles weak and her senses dulled. A strange, hollow feeling was spreading from the pit of her stomach outward. She let her head hang, eyes cast to the floor between her knees. What she saw wasn't the pattern of the carpet there, however, but memories she usually pushed back. All her own, all her doing.

Nine. The number was etched into her brain. It had been eight, only a few hours earlier.

She had killed nine people. The first eight had all been soldiers; MPs, back when it had been either the wealthy and privileged or everyone else. And then there were Reiner and Bertolt. All of them she had killed in battle.

But not her ninth. He hadn't been a soldier, not really. He had certainly not been a warrior. Vengeful and armed, yes, and clearly with some sort of fighting experience, but it had never been a real fight, no matter what she had let him believe.

A bloke with a normal job, probably providing for his family because his brother was gone, presumed dead. Which happened to be another thing the Survey Corps—and therefore, in extension, she—was responsible for.

She had ended his life for the same reason she'd killed all the others, so it shouldn't make much of a difference. And maybe it wouldn't, in a week, or when the moment came that she would have to kill many, many more, and all at once. Because of what she was.

She would lose count, then.

Levi had killed many more, and not just as a soldier. Today hadn't been the first time he had done something like this—not that she was surprised. It had been evident by the way he had taken control of the situation with cool logic, acting fast, wasting no time on sentimentalities. Good for her, she supposed, even if she was still almost as angry with him as she was grateful that he'd been there with her. There was probably not a single hypothetical scenario in the world left that would make him lose his level head.

She wondered how early he had lost count of the lives he had ended. She didn't wonder how many. It didn't matter, not to her. He was who he was, who he had to be, and she knew that person exactly.

She knew he still cared. Everything he did and had done was because he cared. He would always care, same as he would always do whatever it took, because that was just the kind of person he was.

I choose the hell of humans killing each other over the hell of being eaten. There are those who would get in my way. But I'm fine playing the role of the lunatic who kills people like that.

One of many, many things he had said that she would never forget. Would she have the strength to keep caring about their ambition and the sacrifices necessary, no matter what happened? She didn't think so.

But as of now, she was lucky enough to still have several excellent reasons to care.

A knock on the door—two soft taps—pulled her out of her stupor, made her lift her head.

"Can I come in?" Levi's deep voice was just audible through the wood.

A few seconds passed silently. Nora sat motionlessly, stumped that he would knock, would ask. "Depends on if you're here as my superior or my…" She trailed off, swallowed the word.

"I'm not here as your superior."

Immediately, instinctively, the tight knot inside her loosened. "Alright."

He slipped into the room, took an instant to give her a once-over through heavy-lidded eyes, his morose expression unchanging. Then he crossed the distance to the bed in three strides. He sat down next to her, propping his elbows on his knees, supporting his chin on the knuckles of his folded hands. He didn't speak, didn't touch her, didn't look at her, didn't do anything—except being there.

When Nora spoke, she sounded empty, almost clinical. "I murdered a civilian today. The way I see it, at least, compared to…" She trailed off. It probably wasn't necessary to explain the difference to him. "It wasn't a battle. And it barely even counts as self-defence. After he stabbed me and I just… remained on my feet, regenerated… he was terrified." She left out what his last words had been. She couldn't bring herself to repeat them.

Monster. And, even worse, please don't.

"You should have seen his face," she said instead, her voice cracking at the last word. And added, whispering, "I'm sure he would have run after seeing that, had I not first… had I given him the chance. I could have let him go."

He remained motionless by her side, showing no outward reaction as he listened to her confession. "Except you couldn't. It was either killing him or endangering all of us. That was the choice here." He straightened then, searched her gaze, the circles under his eyes blueish-grey; still, not as bad as they'd been a few days ago. "And you knew that, and that's why you did it."

"Yes, but I still…" Didn't hesitate. Would never even have considered letting him run after he had seen us, realised who we are. She felt her expression harden, the coldness in her chest intensifying. "It doesn't change a thing."

"No, it doesn't," he said evenly. "And it's impossible to go back. There is no do-over."

In the cruel, hard truth he stated, she could hear what else he was saying.

I understand. I know how it feels.

Don't regret.

She nodded, and was as honest with herself as he had been.

You know why you did this. You know you will do it again, as often as necessary.

And Nora put today where it belonged, swallowed it all whole; the guilt, the anger, the fear. It went down like barbed wire.

She was tired, and she wanted home.

So, she dropped her temple to Levi's shoulder and closed her eyes.

###

The mood among the Scouts during their journey back to paradise was… mixed, fluctuating by the hour. There was the lingering excitement of new experiences, as well as the eagerness to return home. All shadowed by the unease and regret about what had transpired on the last night in Marley, the worry it might somehow come to bite them in the ass. In which case they'd probably hear about it from Kiyomi Azumabito, currently blissfully unaware, sooner or later.

It wasn't that likely, though, Levi thought—and told them so. And he wasn't exactly known for his optimism. No, he was being realistic; they'd taken care of the evidence, and even if the Marleyans were able to figure out the exact time and place it had happened, no one could have seen anything more than two additional people on the street, dressed exactly like anyone else. Two people that didn't even exist in this world. And most wouldn't pay any attention at all to two strangers blending in with all the other strangers out there.

The only person that had not just seen without seeing, but noticed, was silenced for good. Nora had gone the extra mile to confirm this.

She had explained why she'd gone for the riskiest route she could possibly have chosen for herself. Playing bait, for fuck's sake, pushing her luck to the point of recklessness.

Her actions made perfect sense, just as it made perfect sense that he wanted to wring her neck for pulling that kind of shit.

"I wouldn't have let it get this far if it weren't for my regeneration as insurance," she had assured him afterwards, during her recap of the events in front of the whole squad. "I wouldn't have let him grab me, in the first place."

He had contented himself with a withering glare as an answer; it would have been a waste of their time to point out that she had blown herself up on purpose, once.

In the end, he knew she had done the best she could with the situation, from a soldier's perspective, as much as it pissed him off. And she had handled it. Aside from the clean-up, of course. That was his speciality.

And if he had done as good a job as usual, as good as his insane girlfriend—who occasionally seemed to lack any sense of self-preservation—had done with killing the man unobserved in a dark alley, then this would blow over as he expected, with no one in Marley any the wiser, and they would be able to return for another survey mission sometime, if need be.

Or rather, when need be. He wasn't all too keen on it, and neither seemed Nora.

Even after they'd finally returned to base and their version of normalcy, she barely touched the books they'd brought from the estate. The reading material she'd eagerly asked Kiyomi Azumabito for months ago.

"I will dive into them soon," Nora said when he commented on it, "but for now, I've had my fill of the outside world, to be honest." She put them into the bookshelf behind the desk before turning to look at him and adding, "Aside from the chocolate."

A tension he hadn't even been aware of drained from his muscles when the slight tremor in her voice was replaced with the airiness of that last remark. Levi went over to her, took the books out again and sorted them back in how they were supposed to be; really, the way she'd done it looked like shit. Stacking them horizontally and in a random order like an animal.

She made a small, close-lipped sound that indicated both amusement and exasperation. He heard that one often.

"New rule," he said, turning to pull her closer by her hips. "There will be no snacking in bed."

Nora's frown was far from convincing with how she closed the last few inches he had left between them, nestling against him, hands splayed on his chest, right over his quickening heartbeat. "Don't I get a say in that?"

"No, brat." He dipped his head until the tips of their noses almost touched, and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her scent. "I don't want that shit on the sheets."

"You've never heard of compromise, have you?" she whispered, her breath grazing his lips. A prickle ran along the nape of his neck, down his spine.

"I don't do compromise," he said, and wasn't at all surprised that his voice had become throaty.

Then, he prevented her from answering with the only sure-fire method he knew; he kissed her. No compromise, no half-measures. She wouldn't let him anyway.

And he couldn't let her have the last word all the time, after all.