Chapter 21: Thinking Is Overrated

"It's clear what that means," Levi said, his voice lowered as Nora's had been, so no one who might happen by the small conference room could overhear. He was lounging in his seat as usual, brows furrowed to the max. "If Zeke has some sort of secret agenda, which he most likely has, we are fucked."

"Why, though?" Eren spoke up for the first time since they had gathered Hange and the squad to relay the information Frank Rosenberg had deigned to share with them. "It doesn't matter what Zeke wants. I am the one who has the Founder; we can tell him one thing, and do the other."

"Didn't know you're such an expert on unprecedented circumstances," Nora snapped, her sarcasm so cutting it should have sliced the air between them.

Her little outburst was met with uncomfortable silence. Eren did not meet her eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. Even Levi raised a brow at her.

Her bad conscience brought a hint of warmth to her cheeks, so she mumbled, "Sorry. It's not my day." That didn't change her opinion, though.

"The brat gets cranky whenever she visits her granddad," Levi explained.

Immediately switching to indignant, she replied, "I only saw him twice."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

She gave a shove to his bicep, a bit too hard to count as playful. Still, it moved him maybe a centimetre.

The others watched them in mild alarm—not so mild in Connie's and Sasha's case, and amusement in Hange's—as they often did when the two of them interacted. Nora didn't get what their deal was. How else was she supposed to communicate with her rude-as-hell boyfriend? Who, to top it off, regularly handed her arse to her in training?

She breathed out a sigh. "Still, I have to agree with Levi."

"I'm flattered."

She ignored him. "If Zeke can potentially brainwash and control all of us—well, nearly all—it makes working with him a lot riskier. We can't know what happens once you two come into contact, Eren. After all, he is the one with the royal blood."

"Dina was, as well, and you know how that went," Eren said—although he didn't seem quite as decisive as he had before, his gaze flitting to Armin to read his trusted friend's opinion from his face; and indeed, the worry in his round blue eyes was hard to overlook.

"Dina was a pure titan," Hange argued.

Eren had nothing to answer, this time, clearly on the fence as he considered this.

"So what are we going to do with the good news?" Jean asked, his fist balled on the table, betraying the offhandedness of his dry inquiry.

"Depends on too many factors; how the forum and Marley's war with the Mid East goes, and Hizuru's diplomatic efforts, and our progress, to name only a few," Hange said, frowning at the table. "At any rate, we have to inform the public. We won't make the same mistakes the old government has." Fidgeting in her seat, shoving her glasses up her nose with the ball of her hand, she added, "But this little dilemma is not all, unfortunately. There's news from Kiyomi Azumabito." She took a deep breath and told them, "The Warhammer Titan—which is in the Tyburs' possession, as you know—joined the Marleyan forces. It's the first time since the Great Titan War that the family decided to intervene. General Magath must have done his best to get them to form an alliance, seeing as the loss of the Armoured, the Colossal, and the Female Titan dealt a major blow. What's more, the technological advances in warfare have been considerable in the past few years—out of necessity, obviously. The Mid East has developed cannons that can take down shifters. Not unlike our Thunder Spears. Soon, the nations at war with Marley might be able to strike from the sky. And maybe one day, the Power of the Titans will become obsolete."

And while that might mean Marley's downfall, in the long run—which would be good for Paradis, obviously—it might mean the exact same for them. Especially when they couldn't utilise the Founding Titan's full potential. Compared to the rest of the world, to most nations, Paradis was so bloody small. And years behind.

Hange didn't need to explain any of this, judging by the worried glances the squad traded.

In her shock, as she digested the news, Nora needed two attempts to count in her head. "So they're back to four shifters, if we count Zeke?" While the Survey Corps only held two. Three Titans, yes, but only two shifters.

Hange nodded, rubbing her temples with one hand.

"Does the Warhammer make a big difference?" Eren asked, his expression unmoved.

"According to Zeke, the Warhammer is very powerful. Its hardening is the only thing that can still withstand those cannons, to a degree."

"Of course."

And that was all that Eren—and everyone else—had to say on the matter.

#

At least their new gear was a huge step forward. Luckily, considering the amount of time and effort Hange and the engineers had put in it. So, they carried on with training, as they always did; as if their life and all future decisions hadn't become even more complicated due to recent developments, once again. By now, Nora was so accustomed to it that it barely registered on her radar as long as she kept herself busy. And if she didn't manage on her own, Levi did it for her—day and night.

"You've got that damned look on your face again." Done with zipping up the new Survey Corps uniform and equipping his gear, he had turned, effectively barring her from admiring him from behind any longer than she already had.

Only now did she notice how intently she'd been staring, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

Who could blame her? And the front view was in no way inferior to the back; unsurprisingly, sleek and black was a look that worked more than nicely on Levi.

"What look?" she asked anyway, all innocent.

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. "One of those that make me want to fuck you against the nearest available surface." The rough timbre of his low voice sent a warm shiver down her spine and to her core, intensifying when he added, "One of those that always remind me just how deep in shit I am."

Dammit. She should really stop asking him questions she wasn't quite ready to hear his answer to. He certainly wasn't the type to give a watered-down version of dangerous truths, whichever kind. It was either that, or no reply at all. There was no in-between.

And she lo—that was, she really appreciated that about him, as disconcerting as it could be; with him, there was no need to look for hidden meanings and intentions, veiled by propriety, which gave her a headache out of sheer frustration. When they communicated, she didn't have to think around several corners. It was effortless, natural, straightforward and true.

Also, quite fun.

Once again, her curiosity won out; asking him such questions had at least got a tad easier, over time. "So, you're saying, I've got several of those looks?" Her voice was breathier than she would have liked.

"Yeah. And the best thing…" He took another step. She could almost feel the warmth of his body. "They are reserved exclusively for me." He reached for a lock of her hair as he watched her through dense, black lashes, playing with it between his fingers. "And one of those clearly screams fuck me, and that's the one on your face right now."

He had certainly been paying attention. She grew hot all over, greedily trailing her gaze down and back up his body. "Can't help it. The new uniform… suits you."

"Tsk. It's just some black clothes." Shaking his head at her, he tucked the wisp of hair behind her ear and brought some distance between them before this little situation could escalate. They had no time for this right now.

"Well, black and grey is all you ever wear, old uniform aside," Nora replied. If he ever happened to wear anything colourful, she'd probably think he'd taken brain damage.

With a shrug, Levi went to the clothes stand beside the door, throwing on his dark-green cloak, flashing the Survey Corps emblem.

Nora's lips curled up. "You do realise the cloaks aren't part of it, anymore?"

"Mind your own business."

Sometimes, he was like an old, grumpy man refusing to accept change.

Her mild amusement faded quickly when her gaze fell to the most important part of the ODM gear, in his case still located at his hips—the reason why he didn't have to give up the cloak. For painfully obvious reasons, most of them would be wearing an upgraded version of the anti-personnel ODM gear, from now on. The dark-green cloak with the Wings of Freedom on its back would get in the way of the body of the device, which was located at the upper back instead of at the hips, as the members of the Survey Corps had been used to.

Of course, with Levi being Levi, he'd mainly stick with a more traditional version of the new gear, handle most of the cutting. And engage titan shifters in direct combat—the most dangerous task for the most dangerous soldier, as per usual. Nora tried very hard not to think about it too often.

She looked down her own uniform, the black a stark, not exactly flattering contrast to her pale skin, as she had seen in the mirror earlier. It washed out her complexion and pronounced the purplish circles beneath her eyes, but so what. Couldn't be helped, and it was irrelevant anyway. Her looks were the least of her worries.

Experimentally, she stretched her arms above her head, lifted her knee, kicking air. The material as well as the part-metal harness were far more comfortable and yielding than they looked—perfect for manoeuvring and combat. They'd be off and test it for the first time in training, but she knew the uniform would do an impeccable job; an immense improvement over the old one, which had already been quite a clever design.

Nora stopped what she was doing when she remembered she wasn't exactly alone; sure enough, Levi was staring at her, his brows subtly arched. "Are you done thrashing about like a moron?"

"I was just—" She halted, huffing through her nose. There was no point in explaining what he knew already. "Forget it."

#

"That was fun." Still exhilarated from the thrill of flying, Nora was wearing a small smile on her face as she zipped open her uniform, eager to shower off the sweat—and the crusted blood on her face.

Already out of his uniform—he was faster than anyone in anything—Levi scowled at her. He hadn't spoken to her since they had left the training grounds, giving her the cold shoulder, and she knew exactly why.

"Try not to faceplant into a tree, next time," he said.

"It was just a bit difficult to get used to the gas emission at the back instead of—"

"Your balance wasn't the problem, you lunatic. But maybe your whooping was, and that you immediately went as fast as it goes."

"Hey, you did, too. Minus the whooping, of course."

"I also have the reflexes necessary to evade big-ass trees with that speed."

"It wasn't too bad, though," she said, stepping out of the snug, pitch-black trousers. "I didn't get hurt or anything."

"You broke your goddamn nose."

"Only for a minute or so."

"What shitty reasoning."

Time to change the subject, and she did so with her usual subtleness and elegance. "So, who gets to shower first?"

He wrapped his right arm around the small of her back, simultaneously opening the clasp of her bra with one quick flick of his left hand. Nora's heart started to beat a furious rhythm against her ribcage, leaving her breathless. She instinctively dug her finger into his upper arms when he touched his nose to hers, saying in his delicious, rumbling voice, "There's enough space for two."

#

"Sasha eating with Niccolo again?" Connie said between bites, brows furrowing. "Hope she's careful."

Jean shrugged, taking a sip of his water. "It's been months. She's learnt to deal with it. At this point, I don't think she'll mess up."

Sasha's absence aside, it was a typical lunch for Nora and the rest of the squad—minus their leader. Especially since they'd started training with the new ODM gear, together. It was, without a doubt, the most fun she'd had with her soldier duties in years. There was a lot of laughter, too; whenever one of them fucked up, the others amused themselves at their expense. Thankfully, Nora didn't faceplant into a tree again, but aiming the guns mid-fly was a skill that was a real bitch to master—Levi, Mikasa, and Sasha excluded; they were naturals in this discipline, of course. Nora liked a good challenge, though, and they'd managed with the Thunder Spears, so they'd also manage with this.

On the downside, she didn't find the time to eat together with Hange and Levi that often, anymore. It had started to become rarer ever since Hange was commander, really. Nora usually ended up eating with only one of them, or with the squad, or some combination of these. Except when her younger comrades sat with Floch and some others—in which case she opted to eat on her own, despite their invitation to join them. She was fine with sitting alone, anyway, her only company a book propped open next to her plate.

Also, Floch didn't like her very much. And she, incidentally, felt more comfortable spending her mealtime without looking at his obnoxious, stupid face.

She supposed she didn't like him, either.

He had never accepted Levi's decision at the Battle of Shiganshina. And since he could hardly lay into the captain for this—Floch wasn't that stupid—Nora was the one who got to enjoy his snide remarks. It certainly didn't help that she had never been friends with him in the first place, and that she'd had no hand in saving him. No, that had been sheer, dumb luck, as Floch was well aware; she had to give him that much. Such was the bad joke they called life.

For the first few months after, he had been quite vocal about the whole Colossal-incident. The terror of what had happened to him would have changed anyone, but everyone changed in a different way. Nora had seen it so many times, had experienced it herself; and she had already been damaged before she'd joined the Scouts.

Some people gave up. Many broke, or lost parts of themselves. Inevitably, all of them experienced a shift in their priorities. The question was just the how.

For many, cruelty and ruthlessness had to be met with equal, if not greater, cruelty and ruthlessness. For them, it was about more than survival.

Of everything that experience must have done to him, Floch becoming more outspoken was probably the smallest of his issues.

"Imagine all the things we might already have accomplished if Commander Erwin were still here," he'd said, for example; not to her, but in front of her. Seeing as starting a useless discussion with him wouldn't have been worth the trouble, Nora hadn't even tried. Plus, she didn't feel like agreeing with him out loud. The tedious subject was a bit of a downer.

Floch had proceeded to drop such remarks every now and then—preferably in Nora's presence, she suspected—until, after some time, Jean was the one who'd got fed up with that shit and come to her defence. Not that she needed it, but it was… well, it was quite sweet of him, really.

"Can't you let it rest?" he'd said, indignant. "She's proven how well she can handle it, hasn't she? What's done is done."

Afterwards, Floch had mostly left it alone—in front of the Special Ops squad, at least—except for the occasional subtle jab at her. But Nora could only imagine the things he said to his closest comrades behind their back.

In the rare instances she came to sit with him at the same table, the conversation would inevitably drift to the war. And when Nora or one of her friends happened to disagree with him on some matter, he'd gladly invalidate their opinions by taking it down to a more personal level, not only insinuating Nora was only still alive because of her relationship with Levi—which was, while disregarding some nuances, unfortunately correct—but also that the only reason for her valued position in the regiment was her closeness to the two highest-ranking Survey Corps soldiers.

She did disagree with the latter accusation, at least.

However, his main gripe with her wasn't as easy to dismiss. Not that she'd asked for it, any of it, and not that Floch's dredging it up again and again helped a damn thing.

And despite all that, Eren had recently begun joining Floch and his circle of friends for meal, every now and then. On his own. Ever since Nora's and Hange's news, to be precise. They didn't mention it, but Nora had the distinct feeling she wasn't the only one of the squad feeling slightly uneasy about the development.

Today, though, Eren was sitting with them, Jean and him taking turns digging at each other, and all of them were joking and laughing and rolling their eyes.

When it was like this, she could almost tell herself that nothing was wrong.

###

"…and I swear Shadis was this close to exploding, and I was nearly shitting myself he was so scary—but he kept asking me why, and I was like, 'Are you asking me why people eat potatoes, sir?'" Sasha was so busy telling her story, gesticulating with her fork, she didn't even eat while she was speaking. In fact, Niccolo and she had talked so much that her meal had got cold.

It wasn't just that, though. Lately, there had been a permanent lump in her throat when she was near him, something unpleasant squeezing her stomach, and even her usually unshakable appetite took a hit.

She always tried her best to push the feeling back, right into that corner of her head that contained all the bad things she had ever done—and seeing as she was a Scout, there were a lot. She had got pretty good at ignoring that stuff. She didn't like it, but it was necessary.

This was by far not the worst thing she had ever done, right? She was protecting her squad—especially Nora—and their mission, and Niccolo's feelings, at that. He'd only get sad and it wouldn't help anything.

But… She just wanted to—wanted to—dammit. She just wanted to spend some time with him, every now and then, and not feel bad and hate herself all the time. Sometimes, she opened her mouth, an apology—and more—on the tip of her tongue, only to close it again. It was for the better, but it didn't make her feel better. Not at all.

"And that's why they call me Potato Girl, sometimes," she finished, finally getting to the point.

By now, Niccolo was laughing so hard he was holding his sides, gasping for air. "You're pulling my leg, right? You didn't really do that."

Sasha smiled despite herself. It was easy to smile in his presence, even with that awful secret weighing on her. "Sadly, it's true. I mean, I was thirteen, and I'd never really been anywhere outside my village and the forest before. And we were all just standing there and listening, right? Nothing else to do. I really was listening, but I was hungry, and I had the time on my hands and the potato in my pocket…" She shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to carry around a steamed potato. Maybe it wasn't the most reasonable thing she had ever done, but it did make sense, right?

Niccolo eventually managed to contain his laughter in a grin, his eyes sparkling. Bracing himself on the counter separating them, he indicated Sasha's plate—still half full with different types of fish. "Had you told me that you're that much into potatoes, I would have made you a stew."

"I'm not that into potatoes," she explained, "but meat was very scarce back then, so…" She trailed off because it seemed obvious enough, taking another forkful of the delicious meal Niccolo had given her.

"I know. I was joking," he said, still smiling warmly at her—and there was that weird tug in her chest area again, the one she only ever got around him.

She suddenly wondered if she should not have told him this story; yes, it was funny, she supposed, but it was also kind of embarrassing, and now he must think she was a total dork, even more than he already did and more than she was, at present. She liked to think she had grown up at least a little bit since then.

Dammit, Sasha, she silently scolded herself. You'll never learn when to keep your mouth shut, will you?

On the other hand, reducing Niccolo to tears with laughter didn't seem so bad. And the look on his face was… she wasn't sure what it was, only that it wasn't condescending at all, and that it made her heart beat a little faster.

Okay, more like a lot faster.

But that was no big deal, right? After all, it was always fun and interesting talking to him, even apart from their shared enthusiasm about food, and yes, maybe he was quite handsome—with that wavy, blond hair sometimes falling into his forehead when he was preparing a meal, utterly absorbed in his work, and those nice, amber eyes that got that particular glimmer when he was smiling, and that he was tall and broad-shouldered, not to start with his face—

Nah. No big deal. She just noticed.

"Sasha." He said her name in a very deliberate way, rich with emotion. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I—I just wanted to say… It's good you're back, really."

He must mean back from the capital, here in Shiganshina. That trip, that damned trip, was already far too long ago. She didn't even know why her thoughts went there first.

"I, uh… yeah. It's good," she stammered, and somehow couldn't look away from him, even as she felt her face growing warm and her stomach flutter.

"To be honest, it's been a bit boring here without you around," he said, blushing, making her feel a little better about her own abashment.

He blushed easily. She wondered when she had noticed this.

She couldn't explain why she liked it so much.

And just then, he reached for her hand on the countertop, covering it with his. It felt so very hot against her skin, and her heart was racing now, and shit, she was really the worst person ever.

I hate it when Jean is right, that perv.

Oh, who am I kidding? I don't. This time, I don't.

But she should. What she was doing here surpassed selfish and was straight-up horrible. Right now, maybe because of what Niccolo was saying, how he was looking at her, her regret and her guilt were so immense it made her feel sick to the point she feared she might puke.

Tears pricked her eyes as she withdrew her hand, clenching it into a fist in her lap. "I can't do this."

Niccolo blinked, twice, before reality seemed to catch up with him and he removed the hand that had just held hers from the counter and from her sight. "I'm sorry, I thought—" His face was flaming red now, the flush reaching to his forehead and ears. "Clearly, I was wrong—"

"No, you…" The tears were coming already, and Sasha tried and failed to blink them back. Her voice was wavering badly. "I can't do this to you. Not like this."

There was a beat of silence.

"O-of course. You're right," he said then, stumbling over the words. "I'm nothing more than a prisoner of war who is barely tolerated here, and you're a soldier. It was presumptuous of me to think..."

Shit. She couldn't stand it. It was so unfair. Everything about this stupid war was unfair.

"That's not it, Niccolo." And she searched his gaze through blurry eyes, and took a deep breath.

AN: Writing these decidedly different romantic dynamics was interesting. Quite a contrast to Nora and Levi's, I'd say. It's fun and challenging trying to get into the heads of such vastly different characters.