Chapter 18. Stairway To Heaven

At least the rain had stopped.

It was still frigid, and frost would most likely form overnight, but they weren't soaked to the bone.

He thumbed the fabric in his hand, tracing the old tears stitched together by string that was just slightly the wrong shade of red. The young man next to him—was it Jean?—eyed the scarf, mouth turning downward into a frown. Efran tucked the garment back into his jacket.

"She'll get it back," Jean muttered, gaze trained forward again. Even in the twilight gloom, the agitation was evident on his face

"That she will," Efran sighed, nodding his agreement. "That she will."

Something caught his attention from the opposite side of the road—a pair of glasses glinting in the moonlight like the eyes of a cat. Hanji stepped onto the misty road and scanned the treeline until she found Efran's watchful gaze. She nodded once.

"Well, that's our cue, laddy." He gave Jean a hearty pat on the back before turning to the rest of the squad behind him. "Let's go."

The soldiers drifted out of the shadowed greenwood one by one, wading through the low brume like a gathering of ghosts. Hanji jerked her chin toward the dark house at the end of the road. "Well, I don't like it," she began without preamble, voice low. "Moblit and I watched all of them enter, but we couldn't see any sign of movement inside. No light, nothing. It's like they're hiding."

"Or waiting," Efran added. "Mikasa?"

"Yeah, I saw her. I think they drugged her. Maybe hit her, I don't know. But she wasn't walking right." She chewed her lip, eyes narrowing at the small building. Then she set toward it. The group followed without a word.

Efran kept his voice low—quieter still so that the rest of the group wouldn't hear. "Doesn't it feel a bit like a trap?" Hanji tilted her head down to peer at him over her spectacles. He continued. "It's too easy. These people may be radical, but they're savvy. We surround them, but maybe there are more waiting to surround us."

"This is true," Hanji replied. They walked in silence for several feet before she added, "but that would mean that they're wise to our presence. I'm confident that the plan has been a success so far. They're severely outnumbered against our military, and if they're as savvy as you say, they'll know the wise move would be to retreat rather than stage an ambush." He didn't push, choosing instead to trust in her judgement. The unsettled feeling in his gut persisted, however. Why here? Is it a meeting point?

When the house was about five meters away, Hanji halted the group, hand moving in a silent signal for them to assume the next formation in the plan. She approached the front door on silent feet, Efran and Jean at her flank. Hands at her blades, breath fogging out before her, she whispered, "remember, kill if you must, but leave at least one alive for questioning. That's the only way we'll find the camp."

Efran nodded once, his own hands finding the blades at his hips. The gear felt strange and cumbersome on his form, the straps too constricting. He wasn't bad at 3dmg, but he wasn't good either—a blacksmith's son hardly had use for such a skill. Swords, however, blades and knives, he was very familiar with. Those he could handle quite well.

"Draw," Hanji ordered, and the three of them freed their blades, the sound slicing through the night with a metallic hiss. The noise was quickly followed by the bang of Hanji's boot as she delivered it full-force against the frail door of the house. Efran and Jean filed in after the commander, weapons ready, pulses pounding.

And there was nothing.

Efran spun around in preparation for whomever might be lurking behind the door. Nothing. The house was indeed small—there was a small kitchen area and a fireplace, and the only furniture was a modest bed pushed against the far wall and a few chairs surrounding the dining table. There was nowhere to hide here.

Hanji let out a huff of breath, spectacled gaze combing the room for any clues. Finally, she moved to the table, falling into one of the chairs with a groan. "Moblit had eyes on the house the entire time. He would have seen them leave. They can't just...vanish.

There wasn't a single corner, cupboard or curtain that could possibly pass for a hiding space. Efran dragged a hand across his smooth pate in frustration. "Well, I'd say this is a whole new level of savvy."

"More like necromancy," Hanji groused. "This is...this is impossible."

"Perhaps they got out when Moblit looked away," Jean offered. He was awarded a tetchy look from the commander.

"Moblit didn't look away."

"Well...then…" He scratched his neck, glancing around the room for an explanation. There was none.

Efran perused the hearth, searching for signs of a recent fire. The chimney was narrow, but even if the Redeemers proved spry, that would still leave a compromised Mikasa to deal with. There was only one door, and the windows were locked from the inside. No one could have left without Moblit seeing them. He dragged both hands across his head again, pacing absently as he pieced through the enigma.

The floor creaked beneath his boot.

Everyone's attention snapped to the subtle sound. There, barely distinguishable amongst the floorboards, was a door. "A cellar...or basement," Hanji mouthed, and then, louder, "this was a waste of my time." She sent Jean a pointed look, motioning to the door with her chin. He nodded and took careful, heavy steps across the room. "On three," Hanji murmured, locking eyes with Efran. "One…"

Jean was almost to the door, hands at his blades. Efran steeled himself for a fight, anticipating a rush of Redeemers to fly from the cellar like bats out of a cave.

"...two…"

The floorboards creaked again as Hanji crouched before the door, her fingers finding the small, brass ring and tugging upward in one, heaving motion—

"Three!"

A dark, earthy scent filled the room, followed quickly by a dramatic change in the air's temperature. The three of them stood above the gaping hole in the floor, utterly stunned by the depthless stretch of tunnel. This was no cellar. It was a passage.

"Get me a torch," Hanji ordered. Jean was already moving, tearing across the threshold and out into the night. He returned swiftly, Moblit in tow, unlit torch in the latter's hands. "Moblit, I hope you've brought the sketchpad. I want this thoroughly documented." Firelight illuminated the air, the scent of sulfur wafting as Moblit shook out a match. He passed the burning torch to Hanji. She loomed over the opening in the floor and angled the light above the tunnel.

A low whistle left Jean. "Fuck, how deep do you think it goes?"

"All the way to the Underground," Efran replied. "I think we've found our entrance."

Hanji turned and gave him a slow grin. "Some basement, huh?"

Three days.

In theory, the time didn't seem like much. But even Rubie felt her resolve waning. The Ackermans were made of sturdy stuff.

"You're late," she muttered, and her brother gave a weary sigh. He was passing a dirty rag across his hands. "Well? Any development?" The answer was written in the girl's blood staining his knuckles, but she still asked.

"Sometimes I wonder if we have the wrong kid, Rube."

She rounded on him, voice a low hiss. "Bullshit." She sent a furtive glance down the hall. Empty. "Don't accuse me of being wrong just because you're incapable of doing your job."

"I'm plenty capable."

"No, you're too soft. Always have been. Don't let your bleeding heart get in the way of—"

"Perhaps you'd like to take a stab at it." The look he gave her then reminded her far too much of their mother. He'd always taken after her. "And I'm being quite literal, Rubie."

This was beyond frustrating. No movement on the girl. None on the Ackermans. Yet.

"I'm fully aware of what it entails. Please don't forget who provided you with said information." Ah, yes, Eren Jaeger had been more than happy to share the details of Hanji Zoe's experiments whilst in the afterglow. "But I can't do everything myself. Don't forget the sacrifices, the masquerades I had to maintain. While you'd rather play with your explosives, I've been fighting for our people."

"Our people," he scoffed, casting the filthy rag away. It hit the far wall with a damp slap. "Is this still about them, or has it since turned into some crazy revenge path for you?"

"It's always been about revenge. Vengeance." A knot of anxiety twisted in Rubie's gut. Don't do this to me now, brother. "Need I remind you what Fritz's legacy has done to us? No one even remembers the clans." She jabbed a finger down the hall, toward the cells, the way he'd just come. "That thing is not a girl, Rikard. It is a weapon. Our heritage carries its own weight, just as the Ackermans', but imagine what we could do with a Titan."

"Sure, and you could control her just as much as an Ackerman."

"Who said anything about controlling her?"

Rikard's face blanked, his green eyes blinking a few times. Then he understood. Then he was angry. "This whole time, I thought there was a use for torturing her. I thought you wanted to see what type of Titan she was."

"There is, Rikard. And I do. But what's the use in harvesting the seeds of a plant if the plant isn't valuable to begin with?"

The expression of horror, of disgust, was one that Rubie had seen many times before. She'd acquainted herself with it, desensitized herself against its power. On her brother, however, the expression was decidedly more potent, and for the briefest of moments she felt the flickering of shame. He looked exhausted, stretched thin by the demands of their life. "She's too young for that. She's a fucking kid, she's too young," he muttered, unable to meet her gaze. He'd always been the weaker one.

"Of course she is, Rikard. That's why I want to see her Titan. I want to make sure waiting another four or five years for when she isn't too young is even worth it." The silence was stifling. He didn't agree with her, that much was obvious, but he wasn't going to rebel. That was good enough for Rubie. "We've wasted enough time standing out here."

The pathetic look faded from Rikard's face, a more tolerable expression of determination replacing it. "Are you sure this is going to work? Talking to that woman is like trying to get through to a brick wall."

"Everyone has a breaking point. One of them will cave first. Just…" She pinched the bridge of her nose, beyond finished with explaining herself to everyone. "I have a theory about the dog, but I need to draw him out. Just keep talking to Mikasa."

She turned to leave, but his peeved sigh halted her. "We don't have time for this, Rube. For theories. We were supposed to move on weeks ago—"

"That is an order." He reacted as if slapped, too stunned to fire back. She didn't wait for a reply from her brother, turning on her heel and setting off down the hall.

The cell was dark, the torch on the wall only serving to cast shadows on the dark-haired man within. He held a firm mastery over his mein—despite the dirt on his clothes, the bags beneath his eyes, he appeared as if the only thing afflicting him was the greatest sense of apathy. She admired this skill. She also saw right through it.

"Leave."

The jailor pushed off the far wall as if roused from a stupor. "Aye, ma'am." Then, in a low voice as he passed Levi's cell, "smile, dog."

Levi's gray eyes shifted from hers to regard the jailor, the faintest spark in their depths of something very dangerous. She waited for the jailor's steps to fade down the hall before speaking again. "An old quarrel?" No response from the dark man. No emotion in those eyes. "Very well. Where did we leave our last conversa—"

It was here that Levi Ackerman made his first error, and it filled Rubie with the oddest conflict of triumph and discontent. "Where is my lieutenant?"

Nothing particularly arresting about the inquiry, nor the use of the title. But she tucked a thought away just in case, building on that theory. She glanced over her shoulder at the now empty cell. "Nearby."

"Obviously."

A strange thing to say. "My brother is having a little chat with her."

There. Another slip. So, so brief, but she caught it—the faintest recoil of his head, the slight widening of his eyes. His voice dripped with disinterest. "Your brother has little chats with the Titan girl, too. Tell me, have you moved her nearby as well?"

She let him off the hook. "Rest easy, captain. It's a chat in the traditional sense. No knives allowed." This avenue seemed fruitful, so she continued. "She truly is your equal, isn't she?" No reaction—that iron resolve of his gripped ever so tighter. She gestured in a circular motion to her nose, at the purple moons that had formed beneath her eyes. "I bet this wasn't even half strength. She wanted to bite, not kill."

Levi's face turned to the side, eyes drifting along the confines of his cell as if searching for something, anything that could possibly put an end to his ennui. "Are you gonna stand there all day and windjam again, or is there a point to all this?" And just like that, the avenue closed. Talented bastard.

"No, you are most certainly not a man of faith," she murmured absently. She ran her fingers along the tippet at her neck, feeling the coolness of the silk. "But then again, I've never felt particularly devout myself." There was the barest hint of interest now. At least, he was humoring her. "People like a hero, Levi. They like it for the same reasons that they like religion or kings or gods. Their idolatry saves them from facing the demons before them. They feel safe in their piety.

"But for you, Levi, there is no creed. In fact, I suspect you'd feel trapped in one. There is no god for you because gods don't bleed. And there's nothing truer for a man like you than blood. It's a constant reminder that doesn't wash out, no matter how much you scrub."

This was a very fine line she was walking, and she knew it. No longer was his gaze indifferent, and for once she was grateful for the bars separating them. "You just have me all figured out, don't you."

Rubie shook her head, lifting her hand to gesture about the space and all it represented. "I don't want you to join this." Then she was moving, crossing to the keys on the wall. "You're too good to fall in line again beneath another hierarchy." She took her time in returning to the cell, but only leaned casually against the bars, keys dangling loosely between her fingers. She lifted the end of the tippet. "You have your mask, I have mine. We adorn ourselves with the accoutrements of our station, perpetuate the lie. Why do we do this? Why do we masquerade as the heroes everyone so desperately wants us to be?" She leaned forward, forehead pressing against the bars. "Survival."

The corner of Levi's brow twitched. He looked away. There was another question on his tongue, kept at bay by the grit of his teeth. His gray eyes returned to her. "The Ackermans. Your brother said they were warriors dutiful to the crown." He tilted his head, eyeing her with a creased brow. "But what were they to you? The name Ackerman seems to mean more to you than it does to me."

Well, this was by far the most talkative she'd seen him. How long had he wrestled with that question? Why ask now? It would be foolish to believe that he had cracked after only three days, but she would take this as a sign that he was—perhaps—bending. "Flanagan." Levi's brow cocked in confusion. "My name. Rikard's. Our mother's name. The Flanagans were another clan. One of many, that existed alongside Ackermans." She let him see the anger there, opened up the door just a bit to reveal the true emotions beneath. Let him come to her. "And the Ackermans weren't always dutiful. In fact, they were the ones that lead the uprising against the king and his corrupt government."

Levi leaned back into the shadows, resting his back against the stone wall. "I see, so you want to pick up from where the clans started. You want a reprisal."

"What I want…" She stopped, suppressed the ire before it could rule her. Started again. Both had the sanctuary of shadow, but a lot could be read within one's tone of voice. They were dancing on a blade's edge of control, and it would be detrimental to let her emotions get in the way now. "What I want is to prevent history from repeating itself. Humanity never learns from its mistakes. The circle never stops spinning." She gripped the bars for emphasis, keys tapping against the metal. "But this time there are no clans, Levi. There are no warriors. The ones in power control the military. And frankly, I don't see a coup happening anytime soon, do you? So, who's going to defend the people from this corruption?"

Levi rolled his eyes heavenward. "In case you'd forgotten, since you've been busy playing queen of the underworld, there are more pressing matters than the swine running the capital. Titans, for example."

"You're smarter than this," she said, appealing to his ego. If he had one. Every man had one. "Don't bury your head in the dirt. Don't deny the power you have. The clans were not only feared for their numbers and strength, they were feared for the unexplainable abilities they possessed." Ah, yes, she'd found an opening again. Even he could not hide from this. "You know of what I speak. You've felt it, haven't you? That power."

If the look on his face wasn't proof enough. There was a war raging behind his silver gaze, one she had fought herself many times. Surely he must be wondering that. He was struggling against the fetters of his resolve, his aversion to submission. "I've been listening to you drone on with your shitty platitudes for three days. Why the hell are you only now bringing this up?"

Oh, he was bending. Just a bit more…

"But am I right? You have felt it."

The silence was answer enough, and it sounded like a sigh of relief. Like giving in. "Are there more people like us?" he breathed, eyes a pair of twinkling stones in the dark. "Remnants of a clan?"

She nodded, emphatic. "I'm sure of it. And I plan on finding them." He was watching her now, waiting. How much could she confess without giving away too much? "Who knows, maybe there are entire clans that survived the war and are thriving." She shouldn't be standing this close. The guards were gone. They were alone. "I wouldn't be surprised. Especially if members from different clans joined forces and utilized their bonding abilities. Imagine what we could learn from these people if we—"

"What did you just say?" His sudden outburst gave her pause. He had leaned forward from the wall and was staring at her with the most intent look on his face. Then he shook his head. "What shitty-ass book did you read this from, anyway?"

Something itched along Rubie's intuition, whispered in her head like a thought recently forgotten. She couldn't read him, but there was something...not quite right. "My mother was one of the few people who remembered the legacy, who retained her memories. She told me and my brother all she knew." They stared at each other for a few beats, each blatantly attempting to read the other. It brought Rubie not an insignificant amount of pride to see him struggle as much as she. "I'm not asking you to join this," she repeated, voice softer. "I know you more than you think, and I know how it feels to be trapped. I also know what that power feels like."

His gray eyes narrowed, raking over her face ever more keenly. He was very good at that; for once, she actually felt it challenging to retain her composure. Her fingers itched absently at her neck. "What do you want, then?" he muttered.

"I want you to join me."

He released a huff of breath, face derisive. "Thought you said I was too good to fall in line."

Rubie hummed, amused. "You are. In fact, it would be a waste of...talent." Her eyes had adjusted to the light. No doubt his had too. "You know, it wasn't uncommon for clans to forge alliances. The Ackermans weren't the only ones with remarkable abilities. Think of what we could accomplish together." Her pale fingers toyed absently with the ginger plait of hair draped across her shoulder.

"Do you lock all potential business partners in a cage?"

A smirk formed at her lips. "You're the first."

"I feel so special."

"You are."

Levi's eyes snapped furtively to the cell behind her and back again. "And my Lieutenant? Is your brother giving her a similar spiel?"

"I think we both know how that conversation will go."

Some unplaceable emotion danced behind his eyes for the briefest of moments, cutting another dash across her tally. "And?"

"And what? You and I both know she's even more stubborn than you."

Even in the dark, she could see the faint upturn of his mouth. Subtle, but the closest thing to a smile—if it could even be called that—she'd ever seen on him. "That she is." His face blanked with a flicker of the torchlight, impassive once more. "I've been down here for, what, three months? Four? You can keep us here for as long as you want, but neither of us are joining your fucking circus."

Rubie remained mum, unpacking that theory and pulling it forward to examine beneath a harsh light. "You love her." Not a question.

Those silver eyes lifted to glint at her from beneath dark fringe—an almost feral look. The barest hint of a sneer formed. "Does that bother you?"

Inconvenient, maybe. But she was beyond caring. Rikard was right—they'd spent too long in one place, wasting time trying to cultivate a forest that should have been burned down a long time ago. "I think you know," she began, hand finding the cold metal of the door, "That there really aren't a lot of options."

He stood—rose in one fluid motion so unnaturally controlled, and Rubie's heart dropped to her stomach. "There was only ever one option." She stood her ground as he advanced from the shadows, her pulse hammering painfully in her neck. "And you'd never let us walk." He paused a stride away from her, and she could feel the tightly-coiled energy radiating from him even through the cell. It was terrifying. Heady.

The iron bars were growing warm in her damp hands, but she refused to let go lest he see how she trembled. A grin tugged at her mouth. "How out of character for you, Levi. I never expected you to roll over and give up that easy."

"That's exactly what you expected. What's more, I believe Mikasa promised to kill you, so kind of makes for a shitty working relationship, wouldn't you agree?" His eyes cornered to her hand on the bar—to the key, back to her face.

"You would sign her fate so readily? Tell me, could she forgive that?"

"Go ask her," Levi hissed, jerking his chin toward the hall.

It was just so precious, and so delightfully predictable. "No need." Rubie played her last card. "She can walk." The keys jangled against the lock, and his eyes snapped to the sound. "You stay. She can walk." She swung the door wide.

Several seconds passed in silence, the air thick with tension, Rubie feeling very much like she'd just opened the cage entrapping a dangerous animal. Levi's eyes were riveted to the cell door swaying on its hinges. He didn't move, didn't even blink. He could kill her. He could just step right out and snap her neck, then walk free. There was tension in the way he stood—too poised. And still he didn't move.

"Not a dog in a cage. Never again." Her hands turned out from her sides—welcoming, peaceful. "There's so much you still don't know. Join me."

For a moment, the answer was clear on his face. Just for a moment. "I've done...questionable things," he murmured, brow knitting in dark thought. His eyes cornered to either side of the hall, contemplating. "But I don't think she'd forgive me for that."

Rubie's face twisted unwittingly—composure cracking straight down the middle yet remaining intact, disfigured. "Is her forgiveness really what you're concerned about?"

The heavy rumble of the cell door closing was the most wretched sound, rivalled only by the sharp smack of the keys as they landed on the stone before her feet. Levi regarded her from behind the bars, face in partial shadow. "Think about it this way. You let her go, she will come for you. She'll track you down, and she'll make good on her promise."

Dammit, he was right. And she hated that. Day one, Mikasa Ackerman had been a thorn in her side, every snag in her plan. She'd apply that foolish, dogged determination into finding them. That bitch. "Do you know what you're doing?" Rubie breathed, voice some foreign thing in her throat. This...wasn't supposed to happen.

Levi never answered, just observed her for a few moments more before giving her his back and returning to the shadows. She was numb, completely frozen to the spot, hands still open. Then her pride crashed into her, followed by the rage and humiliation of defeat. Yes, Ackermans were stubborn stock.

She'd stooped to lower—hell, there was a time when she'd once groveled—but crouching down to retrieve the keys, Rubie knew she'd met a whole different nadir. And to make it worse, he wasn't laughing. A mocking sneer, pride in his so-called victory—these she could have handled. Not this heavy, tired silence.

"Never took you for a martyr," she monotoned, skirts a bustle of red around her legs as she took off down the hall. The failure itself spanked more than the impending fallout. And she really had been willing to teach him, show him, and maybe even learn herself. Now she needed to wipe the slate clean and move on—quickly, too.

It was Rikard who was kept waiting this time, and he could tell what had happened just by looking at her.

"You were right," she said, no spite in her tone. In the end, he would always be her advocate, she knew this. He didn't ridicule her when she relayed the interaction with Levi, but she could see the agitation on his face.

"I suppose it's for the best. Their willfulness would have made them intractable."

Rage surged in her chest, and she didn't know if she wanted to cry or scream or kill. Her brother was still talking, jawing away in a very logical tone about next steps, or something else ridiculous like that.

"...we'll prepare the camp to leave within a few days and then take the East tunnel toward Chlorba. We can leave the Ackermans in—"

"I want them dead."

The gaping expression on Rikard's face might have been humorous, had she felt like laughing. He blinked a few times, red brows drawing together. "Rubie, that's...there are other ways—"

"No, Rikard, there aren't. We let them go, it's just signing our fates further down the line. These are Ackermans. I don't care how much they've been brainwashed by the capital, they're still natural-born killers. Weapons. If they can't be wielded, then we must defuse them."

Looking back, Rubie could clearly pick out where she went wrong. Hindsight mocked her, pointed its lucid finger at all the things she should have done differently. This could have been avoided.

"What a mess." Rikard echoed her thoughts, that pathetic, hounded look returning to his features.

"We'll do as you said. Rally the group, prepare for the trip to Chlorba. Leave no evidence behind. But the Ackermans will be dealt with."

He nodded, face grave. "I'll have the cook put something in their food. It will be quick."

Rubie cocked her head to the side, as if regarding her brother for the first time. "You must have misunderstood me. This needs to be done properly. They are as good as traitors, Rikard. They are shunning their own kind in favor of the enemy."

There was an adamance to the way he shook his head. He clearly couldn't grasp the importance of ritual. "No. No, Rubie. This is becoming asinine. It's not their fault they don't know any better."

The rage was quickly evanescing, exhaustion taking its place, and Rubie suddenly didn't have the energy to fight with him. She wouldn't bend, however. "Oh, I think we've given them plenty of time to know better, brother." She pushed past him and continued down the hall without a backward glance. "We leave in three days. I want it done within that time. Properly."

Whether he chose to obey her or not was negligible at this point—she'd just get someone else to carry out the order. He may have been her brother, but the Redeemers only listened to one.

A/N: Ok...so you probably have some questions. Most will probably get answered next chapter, but feel free to fire away your angst in the comments too! You guys have been so supportive and amazing, and for someone who was incredibly nervous about sharing her work with the public for the first time, it feels really nice to be met with such support! That terrible month hiatus allowed me time to revisit the story plan, and it's hit me just how close to done we are with this story. I'd say 5 more chapters? Part of the exercise for me on this thing was to not overplan—something I do waay too much. I always like to have a guideline/blueprint of a story before I start writing, but I just said fuck it with this one and kind of set out on the open road with barely any map or sense of direction. It was liberating, terrifying, and went a completely different way than I originally planned; I thought this story would have about 8 chapters. Lol. But I'm glad I grabbed this tiger's tail, even if there are inconsistencies or things I'd rather do differently; I've learned so much. So, thank you again for your continued support! Also, forgot to shoutout to Oceanalola on Tumblr for betaing chapter 16! Thank you darling! As for next chapter, all I will say is...smut.