Chapter 28: The Scouts' Way

Nora's frustration carried her all the way back to her quarters. She stomped into the room, let the door fall shut behind her. Dropping her head back against the wood, she let out a long breath, trying to get rid of the excess emotion stirring up her insides.

Shit. Now that had gone great. She should have made a better case, she shouldn't have brought Levi into this, she should have approached this differently. How, she didn't know; she could only do it her way, and apparently, her way sucked.

But more importantly, she shouldn't have said what she had said last.

Only then did she notice she wasn't alone; seemed like Levi was already done for the day. He traversed the room with a few brisk strides, eyeing her suspiciously.

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing," she said lightly—with maybe the slightest hysteric edge to her voice. "I just went mildly Floch on our commander, no biggie."

If that comment stumped him, Levi certainly didn't show it. He kept staring at her the same way, brow creased. After several seconds of silence, he said, "Yeah, you'll have to explain that one."

Groaning, she rubbed her hands over her face, then proceeded to share everything about Eren's letter, and briefly recapitulated what had occurred between her and Hange. Very briefly.

"I was awful to her, at the end," Nora finished, almost whispering, eyes fixed on a random spot on the ceiling.

Levi clicked his tongue. "You can't have been worse than me on my better days," he said dismissively.

"You don't understand." Nora straightened, her back pressed firmly against the door. The feeling of the cool, hard wood gave her a much-needed sense of stability. "Hange and I, we don't fight. Ever. We just don't. Even when I'm being a bitch."

No comment. If she hadn't known better, she'd have assumed Levi hadn't been listening. Arms crossed, he seemed to be looking through her without seeing, deep in thought. Clearly, he was more occupied with the important stuff—Eren's intel—rather than a spat between friends. And seeing as they were caught between a rock and a hard place—once again—how could she blame him?

"And you say the risk will be worth it?" he asked suddenly, voice and expression inscrutable.

Shit. She would answer honestly, of course, and he would take Hange's side without a second thought. How could Hange ever have assumed anything else?

"I don't know." Nora twisted a thick lock of her hair around her finger and tugged, letting out a small sound that was equal parts desperate and frustrated. "How could I know, beforehand?"

Levi gave a shake of his head. "That's not what I was asking. No matter what we decide, we can't know what's the right choice. I know the pros and the cons, but either way, there's no guarantee. What I'm asking you is, do you think this is our best option?"

"I…" Her hands dropped, palms flat against the door. She was disoriented by the confusing direction their conversation had veered into and still exhausted from the argument, but she tried her best to think this through, again. The things they needed to know. The things they might not even know they needed to know. All that they might possibly gain. All that they might lose.

The outcome was still the same.

Nora looked into Levi's eyes, and found the hold she so desperately needed. No matter what he would say, he had her back, better than any door ever could.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Then I'm with you on this," he answered steadily. No doubt, no hesitation.

For a moment, Nora just blinked at him, jaw agape. "You don't have to—if you think that we should—"

"I trust you," he interrupted, stating it as a simple, obvious fact. Like it was nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary. Which was exactly the case, of course—but it was something he didn't just say out loud. Neither of them, really; it was implied. As were so many things between them. He'd told her only once, long ago, on that cursed 57th expedition.

I trust your judgement.

"And if it all goes to shit," he continued while she was still reeling from his declaration, "or amounts to nothing, in the end, then too bad, and we'll deal with it once it happens. Assuming we are still alive." With a shrug, he headed for the desk, pouring two cups of tea from the pot.

"Business as usual, right?" she asked, because his appraisal struck her as the most Survey Corps thing one could say, as much as she was still in disbelief at the outcome of their discussion.

"Precisely."

"Levi…" Her heart was drumming a vigorous rhythm in her chest. It was hard to force out the words that were on the tip of her tongue, but it had to be said. "I trust you, too."

"I know," he said without turning.

But that wouldn't do. Of course, she trusted him as her captain. That wasn't quite what she was getting at, however. It didn't suffice, by far.

She licked her lips, fiddling with the hair tie around her wrist, and clarified, "I trust you more than anyone else, in fact." And certainly more than herself. "You know that, too, right?"

Despite his habitual frown, the small muscles around his eyes and mouth looked unusually soft as he held out one cup of tea for her to take. "I know now."

They took their seats at the desk. Nora's gaze was firmly averted to her hands wrapped around her cup. In the familiar, peaceful silence that had descended upon them, her mind inevitably wandered back to earlier. To Hange.

And she saw what she had been seeing for so long, but had temporarily lost sight of earlier, in her aggravation.

Her friend had been changing ever since she had become commander. At least in some aspects. Competent and full of drive, Hange had always been daring to a fault; high risk, but also high reward. With her research as well as on missions. And now…

At which point did prudence become dangerous inaction?

"Hange isn't well," Nora said, the tightness in her throat audible. "She hasn't been for a while."

"I know." Levi put his already emptied cup down. "For one, she's gotten thin as a rail. And the woman has already been a beanpole, in the first place."

The stress, the responsibility, all the impossibly difficult decisions that were ultimately hers to make… Add to that Eren's disappearance, and Hange must be close to her breaking point. Nora couldn't fault her for becoming more careful and hesitant.

And yet. She couldn't agree with the commander of the Scouts on this one. Hange had wholeheartedly and readily dismissed her opinion. Hell, she'd barely let Nora explain. The thorough rejection had come from where she had expected and needed it least, and the resulting ache sat deep in her chest, an invisible but fresh wound.

"Hey." Levi reached for her, tilting up her head with a gentle yet decisive hand on her jaw. Nora realised she had been biting her lower lip to the point it had got painful. He waited until she met his eyes. "You two will work it out one way or another. It's Hange; she didn't ever stop annoying me, no matter how hard I tried, so she is definitely never gonna stop annoying you."

"That's what you get from befriending her," Nora said with a tiny smile. She tugged his hand from her face, interlacing their fingers on the desk.

"Tsk. I didn't 'befriend' anyone."

"Not on purpose, you mean. Believe me, I get it."

###

The best description Levi could think of for Nora's and Hange's behaviour around each other the days following their dispute was civil and tense. There was no silent treatment, no bitter words. Not even biting sarcasm on Nora's side.

But there also wasn't much else.

Their interactions were restricted to the usual work stuff and "would you pass me the bread, please" at meals—the rare times Hange joined them instead of holing herself up in her office. No laughter, no lighthearted banter, no inside jokes at his expense, no animated exchange of ideas, no tea breaks.

It was strange to see Nora cross with someone other than himself. Stranger even that it was Hange, when the two of them had been thick as thieves pretty much from day one, without having a single real disagreement. Like the most irritating pair of sisters. Or so he supposed. He didn't know a whole lot about sibling dynamics. His limited experience with that subject had been rather short-lived and unconventional.

Levi let them be. It wasn't his business—except it kind of was—and he hated meddling. That aside, he wouldn't even know what to do. Conflict resolution and mediating were no strengths of his.

"I should apologise," Nora said on day two after the argument, when they had gone to bed and he had already been half asleep.

"If you think so, then why don't you get your ass over there and do it?" he grumbled.

"Because I'm still too bloody frustrated."

"Stubborn brat."

But he was well aware that the matter had to be addressed eventually, for reasons of the life-or-death variety first and foremost; the last thing they should do was waste precious time with pointless conflicts, what with Eren's shitty vacation and Marley starting to win battles in the Mid East.

So, meddling it was, Levi decided on day four.

Fuck his life. He should have remained single. This was unnatural.

"When will you two finally make up and start being obnoxious again?" he asked as soon as he had stepped foot in Hange's office unannounced. "I'm sick of looking at Nora's kicked-puppy-face day and night." He folded his arms, choosing to remain standing even as Hange indicated the free chairs with a flick of her hand. "And yours isn't much better, for that matter."

Hange sighed, massaging her temples. "Go on. Give me your opinion on the issue. I know I've already been avoiding the discussion for too long."

Levi carefully weighed his words before he spoke. "You're the commander. You call the shots. That said… are you sure about your decision?"

"Of fucking course I'm not sure!" Hange exclaimed, slamming her fist on the surface of the desk. "I'm not sure of a damned thing, these days." And she dove her hands in her hair, messing it up until it came loose from its already messy half-updo.

This was by a long shot more than he had signed up for. Levi was suddenly mildly glad Nora wasn't here. Here he was, just hoping to sort out Survey Corps matters—and, while he was at it, clear up an irritating misconception Hange seemed to maintain about his decision-making.

"So you agree with her, I suppose?" Hange looked up at him, seeming bone-tired all of a sudden—and sighed at whatever she found on his face. "Of course you do."

"I don't like this, but we need every advantage we can get," he explained. "Without Eren, we're basically sitting ducks here, waiting until shit hits the fan." He paused, let that sink in before reminding her, "If we hadn't taken risks, we wouldn't be here."

Hange took off her glasses and flung them on the desk, rubbing her eyes with her palms. "Yeah, I know."

He glowered at her. "And you know I trust her not because we happen to share living space and a tea supply. That's as irrelevant as titan shit here. I trust her judgement as a soldier. Just like you do, four-eyes. Has your brain shrivelled from all that blathering with the idiots in the government and the idiots in Hizuru, or why am I standing here, having to remind you?" It was a valid question, he thought; he had no patience for spelling out shit that should be obvious. But from what he had read between the lines during Nora's hesitant and sparse recount of their fight, it was apparently necessary. Explaining to the commander of the Survey Corps how trust worked, for fuck's sake. Hange, of all people, should know that he could think for himself; that was exactly how he decided to trust someone, in the first place.

Hange deflated, slumping in her chair, the corners of her mouth drooping. "I need to think. Let me think, okay?"

Looking at her, a portion of his rightful indignation melted away, just like that. Dammit, but that miserable woman was in dire need of sleep and a buttload of food. Another thing she had in common with Nora.

"Fine." He uncrossed his arms, rolled his eyes. "Just don't take too long."

Hange shook her head at him, a small, sardonic smile touching her lips. "At least one thing that doesn't change around here."

###

"What's going on between you and Hange lately, Nora?" Jean leaned forward, elbows on the table, his narrow eyes dissecting her.

"What?" That had come completely out of nowhere. Nora almost choked on her mouthful of stew, immediately on high alert. Ready to jump and run—theoretically. Stalling was simply a knee-jerk reaction. "Why're you asking?"

"Because you two are barely talking," Mikasa said, all matter-of-fact, taking a sip of water.

She'd been a bit more like her old self ever since they'd had word from Eren. Which is to say, marginally less gloomy and uncommunicative.

Hange, Levi, and Nora aside, the regiment knew only of his few handwritten lines. What else—that big what else—he had sent them, Hange hadn't shared, so far. And it clearly wasn't in Nora's authority to tell.

Besides, what good would it be if they did bugger all with the information?

"Hange's just busy and stressed, is all," Nora said, which was kind of the truth. Mostly.

"Nora." Armin smiled at her, almost apologetic. "I think we can all see you're lying." Around the table, her squad mates nodded. At the look on Nora's face, Armin raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry, but you aren't very good at it."

"Lousy, actually," Sasha chimed in helpfully.

Sighing, Nora gave up. She didn't know why she had even bothered. Probably because she felt like she'd been backed into a corner by her friends when all she'd wanted was to enjoy a reasonably peaceful meal with them—during which no one asked her any personal questions, thank you very much. The whole issue—Hange, the argument, the facility—was just something she didn't want to think about, let alone talk.

She kept it brief, to the point, just to get this over with. "Fine, then. We had a disagreement over something in Eren's letter, and that's all I have to say on the matter."

But that was already too much; Armin's eyes widened eagerly. "What's in the letter that—"

"Stop pestering me or I'll go sit over there." Nora pointed her thumb towards the corner behind her, where she believed stood a nearly empty table. One look over her shoulder and she realised her mistake: it was occupied by Floch and his entourage. Grimacing, she indicated the opposite direction. "I mean, there."

Connie scratched his cheek, brows drawn together. "But why would you two fight? You're always on the same—wait, wait!" And he grabbed Nora's forearm; she had stood up with her tray, ready to act on her threat. "We'll shut up."

She took her seat again, glaring at her meal as if she could will her appetite to return. "Splendid."

#

Naturally, it was Hange who made the first step; Nora would have, in theory—but then, unfortunately, she couldn't exchange her stupid brain for a more… cooperative one. No matter how irritated she was with herself. No matter how often Levi tsked at her. She wasn't placable, or wore her heart on her sleeve, or was… well, not excessively stubborn.

In short, she wasn't like Hange, in so many aspects, and a lot of those happened to overlap with her shortcomings.

Hange caught her in the corridor, just as she was returning from ODM training. "Can we talk? In my office?" she asked, taking Nora aside with a tug at her sleeve.

She nodded without hesitation, swallowing. Immediately, the tension from training re-entered her body. And her limbs had felt like jelly only seconds ago.

Speaking with Hange had never made her nervous before. What was the world coming to?

As soon as they sat in privacy, Hange commenced, "I talked to Levi, and I think we should—"

"I didn't mean it," Nora blurted. One deep breath, and then she clarified, "I mean, I did mean it, but I didn't mean the last thing I said. I was just—"

"The hothead we know and love." Unfathomably, Hange was smiling at her, her features relaxed. Tired and pretty.

There went the tension, dissipating in the air like a balloon cut open. Nora felt her weight sink heavier into the chair. "Maybe I am, sometimes," she found herself grumbling.

Hange snorted.

"Either way, I'm sorry I hurt you," Nora forced out, focusing on Hange's forehead instead of her eye. "I might not agree with you, but it's not like you don't have a point, a good point, and I know you're only—"

"It's fine, Nora. I wasn't entirely fair, either." Hange shifted in her seat and straightened her glasses, but despite her obvious discomfort, her voice remained steadfast. "After all, there's good reason why Levi puts so much value in your opinion. It's not because he's utterly devoted to you—it's more the other way round, if anything."

Nora's heart tripped in her chest. Her gaze fell to where her hand was fidgeting on the desk, thumbing the edge of a worn stack of papers. She watched the repetitive movement, desperately wishing to hide her face, somehow. "'Devoted' is a strong word, but—"

"Still a blockhead, I see," Hange noted, her voice lilting in amusement.

"But yes, he agrees with me," Nora went on, acknowledging Hange's interjection only with a scowl. "Just like you predicted."

Hange nodded, sobering. "And so do I."

Nora stopped fidgeting at once. She stared at her best friend's expectant expression, certain that she must have missed something in this conversation.

Hange chuckled. "You can close your mouth now, Nora."

She did as she was told, wrestling her face back under her control. Tentative excitement started fizzing in her chest. But if Hange suddenly agreed with her, after turning her down so vehemently, the question remained…

"Why the change of heart?"

"Because you two are right," she said without the slightest sign of doubt. "We aren't making enough progress right now, and this is an opportunity we can't miss. Sure, it's a shot in the dark, but everything we do and have done so far is. It's impossible to know the outcome beforehand—as usual. We can only do our best with the information we have."

Nora was faintly shaking her head in disbelief. This sounded so much like a combination of her own and Levi's sentiments on the issue. It also sounded like the Hange from the past—and so unlike the Hange from a week ago. "But you said that the risk isn't worth—"

"I was afraid, okay?" Hange burst out, wide-eyed, fingers tangling in the hair at both sides of her head. "I still am. I always am. It's all on me. Eren, the regiment, even the whole damn island if Zackly and the rest of the military listen to something I say. One wrong move and—" Her voice failed at this point. She braced her elbows on the desk, the fists in her hair tightening, her eye squeezing shut. As if, that way, she could hide from the decisions she had to make.

"And we're finished," Nora said quietly, completing Hange's sentence.

Hange opened her eye again. "Exactly. Thank you," she said, dry and weary. She let her hands drop on the table.

Her nails were bitten to the quick.

Nora felt it, too, this very instant. So much so that she'd like nothing more than to leave right now and go look for Levi, so he could catch her before she spiralled. If Hange's words hadn't been enough, her expression would have sufficed, as well. From personal—and also present—experience, Nora knew how Hange's stomach probably felt like a tight knot, how her thudding heartbeat against her throat made it difficult to swallow. How it felt like her skin could barely keep her together.

Nora would like nothing more than to leave, yes, but she didn't want to leave. She couldn't leave.

What she wanted, what she had to do, and what she therefore did was reach across the desk and wrap her hands around Hange's. And confess.

"I'm afraid too, Hange. Constantly. So much so that it paralyses me sometimes, just like it paralysed you." She had never admitted this out loud, not to anyone. Hange blinked at her, lips parted. Nora squeezed her hands tighter. "It's not only on you, all of this. You aren't on your own. We're all making decisions, we all have to do our parts, we all could be responsible if it came to the worst." And because it was the most imminent example, she added, "Just like Eren." The sting of betrayal was still as fresh as on day one. The letter didn't change that.

Hange gave her a weak smile. "Makes you wanna puke, doesn't it?"

Nora's lips twitched. "I've come close countless times."

"It's just… I can never be enough. I'm always wondering how it would be if Erwin were still—" Immediately, Hange broke off, obviously realising her blunder, her expression transforming into one of deep regret. "I'm sorry. I should have kept my trap shut."

The thought wasn't pleasant, of course—Nora might have flinched a little—but it was nothing she wasn't intimately familiar with. And she was glad Hange trusted her with it. "No, it's alright. Don't do that. You never need to keep things from me." Keeping things from each other hadn't panned out well for them. Sometime in that stressful past year, they'd stopped sharing certain things, and not even on purpose. They'd just been so wrapped up in their duties and full schedules, in their doubts and fears. If you were so caught up in your own head and struggles, you might fail to notice exactly how much the other struggled, too, and how those struggles were fundamentally the same.

Nora realised all at once that this conversation had been long overdue, entirely separate from their fight.

"Fine, then," Hange said with a smile that didn't reach her eye. "Suppose I'll just moan at you from now on, lamenting my ineptitude."

"Don't undersell yourself. You're a fucking genius, Hange," Nora insisted, somewhat perplexed that she even had to say it. "I'll tell you the same that both you and Levi told me once: no one can replace Erwin, but neither could anyone replace you. Look at everything you have accomplished, since becoming the commander and before." The list was extensive and ranged from engineering, to politics, to research and quintessential discoveries, to combat strategy. Saving their arses several times over, sometimes by pulling the riskiest shit.

"It's not all your responsibility," Nora repeated. Her gaze skittered to a random point above Hange's head. "You know Levi and I are always there, right?"

When she looked at Hange again, her grin was entirely genuine and affectionate, lighting up her whole face, a mischievous glimmer in her warm brown eye. "That's sweet. Must've been hard for you to say."

Nora's cheeks warmed, and at once, she lost a good bit of her patience for this type of conversation. "So do you know or not?" she asked testily.

"Yeah, I know. Of course I do."

They fell silent. After half a minute, Hange gave Nora's hands one last squeeze, then let go, clearing her throat. "Anyway. We're gonna do this. Let's get that biologist and talk some science." And she punctuated her words with a resolute little smack on the desk.

And with that smack, the reality of the situation hit Nora all at once. The possible consequences. That it had been her sodding idea.

She had fully expected to be delighted—or eager, at least—now that they would really go for it. Instead, dread washed over her in a violent wave of nausea.

"You know," Hange was saying, "if I forget for a moment that I'm the commander, I'm absolutely gagging for it. I'm nearly salivating."

Gagging. Great. Exactly the last thing she wanted to think about. "Way to paint a picture," Nora answered woodenly, sitting very still.

Hange's brows furrowed at her. "Are you alright? You've gone white as a sheet." When Nora didn't answer, the confusion in her expression deepened. "I thought you'd be glad about—"

"It's okay. It's nothing." Nora pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for a moment. She inhaled through her nose, exhaled out her mouth. "It's what I wanted. I think it's the right thing to do. It's just… this one's on me."

Understanding flashed in Hange's eye, thinning her lips. Nevertheless, she nodded, determined. "Then let's talk this through."

AN: I cannot answer you, sadly, so I'll do it here: thank you, guest reviewers! (Also: nice to see an "old" name pop up again!) I just want to let everyone who takes the time know how much I appreciate each comment. It's encouraging over and over again, and is often what pushes me through writing slumps.