Chapter 29: Truth and Reality

In the privacy of the conference room, Hange laid out the contents of Eren's letter on the table. All of them. The members of the Special Ops squad craned their heads, half rising from their seats.

"Doctor," Connie murmured, reading. "As in, a doctor doctor?"

"I suppose a medical background is non-negotiable in his position, for obvious reasons," Hange explained. "It says here he studied medicine in the Mid East before he emigrated, and practised actively until he became a researcher at the facility."

Obvious reasons. Yeah, Nora didn't need an overactive imagination to think of a few. Such as, running all sorts of atrocious tests on captive Eldians, injecting them with random titan shit, cutting them open when they'd been unlucky—or lucky—enough to die.

"We expect the airship from Hizuru to arrive on the twenty-second of June, which means we can do this in July," Hange said, her gaze darting to Nora. Probably because that date happened to be her thirtieth birthday. Hange didn't comment on the irrelevant fact, though, but continued, "Sasha and Connie, you'll come with us. We'll also take Varis and Rob."

That choice had been Hange's, and it was one Nora could get behind. Her squad mates were self-explanatory, and the other two had been with the Scouts since before their first trip to the sea, and they were excellent shots in close quarters.

The news surprised Jean, however. "And what about us?" Mikasa and Armin nodded along.

"We can't go in with many men. This is a small operation, not a battle, and unfortunately, the high-security tract is located in the basement. We need to sneak in and out as fast as possible. Ideally, everyone will be back on the ship before they notice." Hange's expression sobered—probably because that didn't seem all too likely. "Also, I need you three to stay here in case something happens to us. Or, in case something happens here. We can't afford to take you all, especially since Eren's gone." Heedless of her glasses, Hange wiped her hand over her face, once. "Armin." She locked eyes with him. "If we don't make it back, I appoint you the commander of the Scouts."

Armin's eyes went rounder than Nora had ever seen them. All colour drained from his face. "What? But—but I'm just—"

"And we'll be done, anyway," Jean muttered under his breath, interrupting Armin's high-pitched stammering.

"Jean." Mikasa's quiet voice had an admonishing undertone.

"What? It's got nothing to do with Armin. Or with us two, for that matter; Armin is a brilliant strategist, no doubt about it. I might be a decent leader during fights. You, Mikasa, I don't even have to explain. But if we lose these three—" He waved his hand back and forth between his captain, his commander, and the owner of the Colossal, not bothering to finish the sentence.

Hange cracked a smile that could only be described as depressing. "We better come back then, eh?"

#

The mission was, as expected, the main subject at lunch that day. Not ideal for Nora's appetite.

"At least Niccolo doesn't have another brother, so that's one less thing that can go wrong," Connie said dryly.

"He has a sister, though," Jean remarked helpfully.

One look at Sasha's expression—the poor girl had become very still next to her—and Nora would have liked to kick them both in the shins, but alas, they sat too far from her and her legs were too short.

Staring at her soup, Sasha said, in a pitifully thin voice, "He looks at me like I'm… like I'm spoilt meat or something. It's either that, or he ignores me completely."

To his credit, Connie winced, his expression instantly filling with guilt. "Shit, Sasha, I shouldn't have brought it up—"

"It's fine, it's fine. I'm fine." Her pitch was too high, and she was shaking her head over and over. "Really. It's been months. It was just—he was just—we were just—"

"Friends?" Armin supplied pointedly, his brows raised a fraction. It was the first thing Nora had heard him say since Hange's appointing him hypothetical commander.

"Yeah. That. Exactly that." Sasha nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing. "And shit happens, right?" She smiled the most unconvincing smile Nora had ever seen.

Nora let out a small sigh. "Shit does, indeed, happen."

#

"You're stuck with me until you die. Get used to it."

"That doesn't say much, considering the life expectancy of the average Scout."

"Tsk. Just watch me. I'll keep you alive long enough you'll get sick of it."

"Now that's a threat. I might just reach my thirties, maybe, and then I'll be ancient, like you."

"Don't get too optimistic."

"That's one problem I never had."

#

Slowly, gradually, reality pulled Nora out of sleep's clutches. When she opened her eyes, Levi's and her own voice were still echoing in her ears. The memory had visited her in that elusive, mysterious zone between thinking and dreaming.

Not a bad memory, for once, and her own at that. Still kind of dark, maybe, but weirdly uplifting, just how conversations between them tended to go. It wasn't hard to guess why her brain had dredged it up, out of everything. Because today was…

Airship day.

To her surprise—and discomfort—it wasn't the first thing Hange mentioned when she met her and Levi in the mess hall for breakfast. She pounced on Nora before she could even sit down.

"Thirty years old!" Hange wrapped Nora into one of her bear hugs. Of an exceptionally bony bear. "Now you're one of us."

Nora stepped back after Hange let go of her, rubbing at the nape of her poor neck that had borne the brunt of Hange's display of affection. "Yeah. I'm officially getting too old for this shit."

"If it helps, you still don't look the part. More like mid-twenties, at most."

"Hm. Maybe that is why Levi told me today that I'm still a brat." Nora glanced at him sidelong; he was scowling at his porridge, if because of the conversation he wanted no part of or the early hour, she could not say. Probably a combination of both.

"That must be it." Hange gave him a conspiratorial smile, and his scowl deepened.

Nora hadn't recounted his exact wording, though. "Still a brat, and still driving me crazy," he had said, and then he had kissed her in a way that had left no doubt about the accuracy of his words and had effectively done to her what he accused her of doing to him. And that was all he had said and done to acknowledge the date. As was more or less their usual practice.

After the tea-related things and the necklace, they hadn't made a tradition out of the mutual gift-giving thing. Unsurprisingly, neither of them put much importance on such conventions. Levi had first insisted she didn't get anything for him again, saying he didn't see the point as it was "just another shitty winter day" and besides, he already had everything he needed. She had only agreed after making him promise he do the same in return. After all, she, too, couldn't think of a single thing she wanted that could be bought.

She had the necklace, she had him, and everything else that she wished for was things not even he could give her easily. Besides, she always got birthday sex (which was exactly the same as usual, but on her birthday). What else could she possibly need?

It really made perfect sense; the last presents they had given each other had been themselves. From then on, nothing else was necessary.

Still, a week before his first birthday after their agreement she had asked if there was really nothing he wanted, anything at all. After he had shot her down without a moment's hesitation, he had only suggested that she maybe could "dust the office and clean up her shitty mess on the desk like she was supposed to, for once". And added, as flatly as he said almost everything else, "preferably naked."

It had come so out of left field that she hadn't been sure if he was being serious—so she had asked. And he had only answered that it wasn't the most repulsive thing he could think of.

Needless to say, she'd ended up doing it—and for once, he hadn't let her finish.

The cleaning, that is.

She had spent some time bent over the desk nonetheless.

Now there was a fond memory. In a very inappropriate setting. She took her seat, focusing on her meal and not on how warm she felt in certain parts of her body.

When Levi went to get himself some more tea, she told Hange, "In all seriousness though, I don't care about the number. I just didn't think I'd still be here. And I know Levi didn't expect it, either."

"Well, good thing even you two happen to be wrong every now and then." Chewing, Hange considered her, suddenly very serious. "But he certainly did his part making sure you'd stick around."

The mere mention still gave Nora a pang in her chest, an echo of Levi's pain, of the lasting impact it had on him. Yet, there would never be regrets on either side. Selfish as it was, how could she not be glad she was still here, with them, despite everything, despite the possible repercussions?

Theoretically, she knew Levi's reasons. In practice, she simply couldn't wrap her head around the one that was, according to him, his main reason. He had hinted at the why—but why her? She might never not ask herself this question. At least with this, with him, she'd got lucky beyond expression.

"He's stupid like that," Nora said, not quite as casual as intended.

For some reason, Hange seemed to find this exceedingly funny; her face split into a broad grin. "That's a recurring theme with you two, isn't it?"

#

Ten days. In ten days, they would put the brand-new airship to use.

To infiltrate a heavily guarded building.

Levi had made her forget it, for a blissful while. They'd been lying in bed for an hour now, naked and a bit too hot but satisfied, legs entangled. By the minute, her agitation was growing, and by the minute, her thoughts were accelerating. She felt like ants were crawling just beneath the surface of her skin.

Ten days, her brain told her, over and over. Hashing and rehashing dozens of possible scenarios, most of them somewhere in the range between bad and absolutely catastrophic.

What if what if what if.

Bloody hell, it was useless. She was so fed up with herself.

One swift movement and she was standing. She rounded the bed and bent down, retrieving her clothes from the floor.

Once her knickers were back on and she reached for her shirt, Levi's voice sounded from behind her, annoyed but criminally relaxed. "What are you doing? Leave your shitty clothes be and come back here."

"I physically can't," she admitted, focusing really hard on slipping into her trousers just so she had an excuse to avert her face.

"You're a real pain." He watched her get her necklace from the bedside table. "Where're you going? Not the shitty roof?"

"Definitely not. I'll go somewhere that actually makes me feel less…" She faltered. She didn't even want to think of the adjectives. And voicing them would make it even worse. "I'm going to the shore," she just said. "I need to move a bit." And see and hear and smell the ocean. Remind herself of how freedom felt when her body and mind screamed at her trapped, trapped, trapped. Remind herself what she was fighting for. Only in regard to the sea had this reminder a somewhat calming effect.

Because the sea would always be there, no matter what happened in ten days, or later.

With that unpleasant thought in mind—she really needed to get out of here—Nora hesitated, halfway to the door.

Levi was still half-sitting in bed, propped on his elbow, watching her silently in that way that made her feel transparent, unprotected. No more criticism for her restlessness from his side.

"You can come with, if you want," she told him, voice neutral. Not giving away that there was an option she'd prefer; naturally, and frustratingly, she didn't have to guess if she'd feel calmer with or without his company.

Yes, she was really fed up with herself.

He gave a small, displeased grunt and climbed out of bed, rubbing at his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his hand. "Fine," he said in the same tone she employed when he told her to clean the toilet.

"Did you hear me? I said, if you want."

But he was already in his trousers, pulling his grey T-shirt over his head. "I heard you, brat. Now get your ass out the door."

#

The sand beneath her bare feet grounded her. The sea was calm, the faint light of the moon and the lamps from the nearby pier glancing off its blue-black surface, dancing with the back and forth of the gentle waves.

Nora was standing just outside of their reach, where the sand was fully dry. To Levi's dismay, she had come here barefoot, not bothering with shoes and socks.

"It's been two years, and I still can't get enough of the sight." She breathed in deeply. "The smell. The peaceful sound—deceptive as it may be."

Hands in his pockets, Levi was staring across the endless stretch of water, his features as inert as the rest of his body. "Yeah. It's quite something."

Nora could keep the surprise neither from her voice nor her face. "Really? I had no idea. Even when we saw it the first time, you didn't look… impressed."

He turned towards her, the slight crease between his sharp black eyebrows deepening. "What's that supposed to look like, then?"

Her mouth curved into a lopsided, close-lipped smile, before she said, "Well, people usually get… how should I put it… an expression on their face when they're impressed or surprised or amazed or experience any kind of positive emotion." She had adopted the voice someone would use to explain a basic concept to a ten-year-old. "You know; widened eyes, open mouth, maybe a smile, stuff like that."

Now those handsome features drew into a full-blown scowl. He clearly did not appreciate her helpful reply. It was as gratifying as ever. "Tsk. I thought it was impressive, so I was impressed. Simple as that."

Oh, but he was such an oddball. A grumpy oddball. It was the best. His logic was sound, though, for someone like him. For him, period, seeing as there was no 'someone like him'.

"You know what," she said, still grinning a little, "you're right. I shouldn't have assumed."

Levi wasn't expressive. Everyone knew that. She was only lucky enough to get glimpses of what was inside that stony exterior; sometimes because he entrusted her with it of his own free will, but sometimes, by his own admission, not entirely on purpose. In either of those scenarios, he definitely was expressive, in his own, perfect way. That aside, he somehow managed to convey a lot through even the slightest changes on his face—if you knew him well, knew what to look for.

And hell did she know what to look for.

Out of nowhere, he reached out, taking the pendant of her necklace in his fingers, turning it back and forth.

"This has seen better days," he said, brows furrowed at the piece of jewellery he had given her precisely two years ago.

Nora shrugged, somewhat taken off guard as she watched him inspect the necklace; he rarely acknowledged that it existed and that she wore it all the fucking time, and she was glad about that. She was being obvious enough as it was. Showcasing the necklace didn't help, but what was she to do about it? Not wear it? Out of the question, even for a day.

Damn it, but she loved that bloody necklace, and everything that it signified.

"It has also seen worse," she said. And that one very specific worse was the main reason it was no longer in an impeccable state. Going titan on the regular also didn't help, with the heat and flesh and all.

After a few additional seconds of consideration, Levi's jawline set in that subtle way it always did when he made a decision. He let go of the pendant, straightening, training his steely eyes on her face. "I'll get you a new one."

"No," she said promptly, decidedly sharper than what could be considered reasonable; but he had utterly caught her by surprise. Her cheeks went warm when his brows rose at her somewhat excessive reaction, and she added, perfectly polite and normal, "I mean, no thank you."

That necklace, that pretty wings pendant with all its fine scratches and tiny, discoloured spots—it wasn't as bad as he made it out to be, most of the blemishes were only noticeable upon close inspection—had been with her through a lot. Through hell on earth, and through days and nights when Levi couldn't. And he had given it to her, and it was perfect. Of course it was; he knew her as no one else did. And she had said she would wear it always, and that was exactly what she had meant. She only ever took it off when she showered or slept and he was with her.

Often, she would look at it and think back to that day—exactly two years ago—and the expression on his face, and what he had started with this gesture—what they both had started…

Levi surveyed her with the slightest tilt of his head, and for a hopeful moment, Nora thought he would drop the subject. But then, he suggested, "I could buy the same again. Or at least one very similar—"

"Nah, I'm good," she said, averting her gaze to the pendant, taking it between her thumb and index finger. Hoping against hope that would make it harder for him to read every single bloody emotion from her face. "I don't want a new one. I've had it for longer than most of my skin, you know."

Her little quip—and, admittedly, attempt at deflection—was not received well. His expression darkened, and he retaliated. "That's no reason to be so obsessed with that stupid, battered necklace."

"You want a reason?" she bristled, at once taking the offensive. If he wanted her to spell out the obvious, she'd give him a dose of his own medicine. "Well then, why did you keep my stupid, messy note?"

No answer, at first. But Levi didn't seem uncomfortable, either; just kept staring at her, arms crossed. There was so much going on behind that stoic façade, she felt it, but she couldn't possibly guess at it. She stared right back, heart pounding, face hot. Good thing they were standing in the half-dark.

"You know why," he finally said.

"Then so do you. Stop being daft."

Unexpectedly, this evoked nothing more than lukewarm annoyance, his brows barely knitting, eyes narrowing just a smidge. At the same time, the set of his shoulders relaxed, for whatever reason. He shook his head at her, once, and beneath that familiar, mild vexation, there was a strange look in his eyes that was hard to place. Puzzled, maybe? As if he couldn't quite believe she was real, but not necessarily in a good way. Not in the way she thought about him on a daily basis, like, damn, I cannot believe you exist. His look was more like, shit, how did I end up here?

Which was fair enough.

He kept it up until it got damn near unbearable—which happened rather quickly. His single-minded, silver-eyed stare—piercing like a blade—was simply too much. Always too much and never enough, especially so when she had no idea what he was thinking. It set her on edge like nothing else, made the urge to fidget overwhelming. Her fingers itched to grab at her necklace, which of course fuelled her aggravation.

Nora's patience snapped. "Why are you gawping at me like that? Is the lighting unflattering for my complexion, or what?"

Nothing changed about his expression, about the strange intensity in his eyes. "I was just thinking…" A tiny fraction of her irritation coloured his otherwise infuriatingly calm voice. "If not for you, I could simply have minded my own damn business and—in the unlikely event that I survive—live the rest of my days in peace and quiet, drinking tea and doing whatever trivial shit. But instead, I had to fall in love with an obnoxiously smart, stubborn, ill-tempered brat who can barely say more than two sentences without being either sarcastic or making some shitty joke."

"What did you just say?" The words came out too fast, flat and abrupt, before Nora could even form a single coherent thought. Her voice was utterly unrecognisable to her; she could hardly make it out over the blood that was suddenly roaring in her ears. Her face was numb.

Her entire body was numb, brain included.

Whatever Levi was seeing in her expression had his brows lowering into a glare, his jaw tensing. "You heard me," he said, the three words concise, clear, cutting. No longer offhand, but tinged with anger. And he took a step closer, took away any chance for her to hide from the truth.

Unsparing and definite, he told her, "I'm so in love with you it makes me sick."

The silence after was heavy, absolute, final. Nora's thundering heartbeat didn't feel like a part of her, anymore. She couldn't move, she couldn't think—except she could, she just had no control over it whatsoever, not over any part of her, inside or out; her mind kept replaying his words, and she felt like she was falling again, and she felt—fuck, she felt, and it was so, so good and so awful, and how was she supposed to bear it—

All throughout these excruciating, unending seconds of stunned silence, his eyes kept searching her face, shameless and unapologetic, his glare intensifying. "Now don't you dare freak out on me, it's been obvious for half an etern—"

And now she moved, swift and purposeful, and cut him off with a kiss.

Because she needed to, needed to feel him immediately, and because she feared she'd lose her shit otherwise and, heaven forbid, start crying. Fuck, she really couldn't start crying, right now. She feared she wouldn't be able to stop.

Nora's fingers twined in the soft hair above his undercut, holding him close as her lips moved against his. Levi did nothing to stop her, to demand she answer with words. Instead, he closed what little distance remained between them, his hands on her back pressing her into the hard plane of his body. A low hum worked its way up his throat as he deepened their kiss, caressing her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, coaxing open her mouth. Taking his time tasting and feeling her, letting her have the same in return. Intoxicating, withholding nothing.

She would have liked to say the kiss was special, and maybe it was. But not because she hadn't kissed him like this in a while; that wasn't the case. Each of their kisses was like this, and had always been from the very first. She always poured everything she had into them because she couldn't do it any other way. He gave her no choice.

The special thing about it was what had initiated it. And the utter terror that had her insides in almost as tight a grip as the dizzying, mind-numbing happiness had. He must be able to feel her heart hammering against his chest, nothing short of frenzied.

Nora ran out of air at last, after what must have been minutes, and she slowed down, pressing soft kisses to his lips again and again because she somehow couldn't stop, breathing him in. Until she could finally bring herself to draw back, her hands skating down his front, coming to rest on his narrow hips. Holding onto him, partly because she was even dizzier now, and her pulse just wouldn't calm down, not even the tiniest bit, and she was still struggling to breathe.

Her eyes searched his, wide and probably panicked meeting calm and serene. Levi's chest rose and fell at an elevated pace, but his gaze remained steady. With that telling, beautiful glint in wide, pitch-black pupils ringed with a narrow band of silver. His eyes were always like this after they'd kissed.

She didn't know if he was waiting or just looking.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to voice those condemning words she had on the very tip of her tongue, even as her stomach clenched so tightly it almost knocked out the last of her breath. She tried, she really, really tried, her mouth opening and closing several times, and she would not stop trying because he deserved to hear it—

"Stop it, idiot," Levi said, putting her out of her misery and taking away her chance, both at the same time. Relief warred with disappointment. He rolled his eyes at her, but his voice had mellowed to a low and warm timbre. "There's no need to say anything. You look like you're about to hurl."

"No I don't," she said automatically, because what else could she say, and besides, this had to be hyperbole.

"Sure," he answered flatly, as unconvinced as he could possibly be.

She was probably in no position to argue, so she let it rest. Her mind was in too much turmoil, anyway, and looking at him made it worse, but she couldn't bring herself to look anywhere else.

He had to know, right? He had to. There was no way he couldn't. She had told and shown him in so many different ways, with so many different words, so many times.

Nora stepped into him again, burying her face in the crook of his neck, concentrating on the warmth and salty-sweet scent of his skin.

This was the best thing that had ever happened to her, no competition.

And the absolute worst timing.

"I'm…" Her voice broke. Even muffled as it was, there was no way to hide how it quivered. After a slow exhalation, she confessed. "I'm thoroughly, unbearably, fucking terrified."

Levi's arms enveloped her waist, tightening for a moment. "I know," he murmured, and it sounded like he really, really did. "Me, too."

#

For once, Levi fell asleep in a matter of minutes, and well before her.

Rightly so, she supposed. She wouldn't be able to any time soon. In part because every last nerve in her body felt like a live wire, but mainly because she couldn't seem to stop looking at his face.

He was lying on his back, one arm up on the pillow and bent over his head, which was lolled to her side. Black strands of hair fell across his forehead, the tips reaching to his lids. It was evident he wasn't dreaming, but sleeping deeply, for once—by his standards. Nora still wouldn't dare touch and risk rousing him. His features were as devoid of tension as they could only be in his sleep or right after sex. In fact, he seemed especially relaxed, somehow.

Thirty-three years, going on thirty-four. Ridiculous, especially when he was like this. He looked even younger than he already did. Other than the shadows and creases around his eyes, both exacerbated by constant sleep deprivation, only the clear, sharp lines of his jaw and the gentle hollows beneath his cheekbones hinted at his age.

Obvious, he had said. It had been obvious.

Probably. So what had she been thinking? Why had she been so shocked, so deeply shaken?

For one, she wouldn't have expected to ever hear this from him. Maybe it was stupid, but who was she to assume? She had thought, maybe it wasn't quite like this for him, not ever, or that maybe he wouldn't see it like that. She had thought he could be the one person in the world sensible enough not to cross that last line. Not entirely, at least, without leaving the tip of one foot on the other side. With the life they led and with everything he'd been through, who knew where the boundary lay, what could and could not be, or how much he permitted himself? He had always been the very best at shutting away what did not serve him to press on, to keep fighting no matter what.

At the very least, she had thought he wouldn't drag it to the forefront, take a close look, and name it for what it was. And out loud.

Was there ever an end to his courage?