Chapter 23. The Song Remains The Same

A/N: So, my only excuse for such an epic hiatus was that I moved to Canada. I'm serious. Anyway, sorry bout that. Also I lied about this being the final update. Go out with a bang, right? And I kinda liked doing those double updates.

"Levi."

"Hm."

Erwin's fingers drummed upon the desk, impatient. His hawk-eyed gaze narrowed in observation. "I would appreciate your voice on this matter."

It had been a mistake to sit in one of the provided armchairs—the stuffy temperature at which Erwin insisted upon keeping his workplace, coupled with the cushioned seat, only seemed to magnify the intense exhaustion that had been dogging him for the past several days. It was only recently that he'd left the hospital bed. His side still hurt.

But he had, in fact, been listening. "All I know is that one minute the bond was there and then it just wasn't."

"And this was after you went over the edge with Rubie?" Hanji clarified, eyes large behind her glasses. There were spots on the lenses.

"Something like that." Levi looked away. The sun was setting beyond the window, reflecting pink and yellow off the fallen snow. "I thought she was dead. Far as I knew that's what severed the connection."

Hanji's chin dipped, mouth setting into a grim line. Then she rose from her chair, her thoughts forcing her to pace. "You know, that reasoning may not be so far off. As morbid as it sounds, it's a very plausible—"

"Hanji." A note of impatience clung to Erwin's voice. Elaborate.

"Think about it. The circumstances under which this bond was forged and broken are both very similar." She held up both hands. "First, we have the cave. Both you and Mikasa have described feeling a resurgence of a familiar power that day . In a moment, something clicked in both your minds, " she brought her hands together, "and the connection was formed. If this is what formed the connection, this power, it could be what severed it, too."

Erwin's thick brows drew together, fingers rapping upon his desk. "It may not be scientific, but I suppose it makes sense." He blew air from his nose, a humorless chortle. "That being said, no one will buy it."

Not even Erwin Smith could spin this into something for those government pigs to swallow. Dark as it was, Levi found bleak humor in envisioning that particular confab.

"I'd imagine, if word about my bond with Mikasa got out, it would be a reprisal of what happened with Eren."

"These are superstitious people," Erwin said, blue eyes flicking to the door as if the entirety of wall Sina had their ears pressed to it. "Needless to say, this will stay between the few who already know about it. As the story goes, Hanji Zoe lead a group of elite soldiers in the rescue of Captain Levi," he recited, turning to address the scientist. "You, aided by Lieutenant Ackerman, effectively carried out a well-planned mission to bring down a corrupt group of individuals known as the Redeemers."

"So I'm the hero in all this?" Hanji snorted, her tone dry and void of mirth. She removed her spectacles to clean them with the edge of her blouse. Levi cringed as the lenses smeared.

"Run with it, Hanji," Erwin said. "This is bigger than we'd imagined. The Redeemers, the bond. It was just the surface. When Mikasa visited Rikard, my suspicions were confirmed. Rikard and his sister aren't the only ones interested in the Ackerman clan."

Levi held his hand out for Hanji's glasses, fingers flicking expectantly. "So what now? Do we just continue along like nothing's really happened?" He fogged the lenses up with his breath and polished them clean before returning them to their owner.

"In short, yes. Not only is it the smartest move but it's the safest, too. Especially for you and Mikasa."

Hanji fitted her specs back onto her face, catching Erwin's gaze over their bridge. "Speaking of Mikasa. Don't suppose you've spoken to her as of late?" She was regarding the commander but addressing Levi. Suspicion passed over him.

"Haven't really had the chance." He kept his tone blithe. No reply came. Against his better judgement he prompted, "why?"

Hanji shrugged, looking away from Erwin purposefully. "Seems like you have a few things to talk about."

"Like I said. Been a bit busy. Maybe if you scheduled our meetings together we could all have a chat."

"I think," Erwin interjected, smoothing the middle of his brow with a thumb, "what Hanji is trying to say is that the events of the past few months have been nothing short of gruelling. No one understands that more than the two of you."

This was starting to get uncomfortable. He felt like he was being cornered or, worse, sat down by a pair of progenitors for a reprimand. He kept his face impassive. The annoyance he felt wasn't faked, and he tapped into that.

"Cold comfort though it may be," added Hanji, "you two are strong enough to weather all this. That being said, you're only human. I'm sure you're feeling stretched thin. Talking to each other would provide some...catharsis, it seems."

Dear God what were they hinting at? Had they spoken to Mikasa? Did they know?

"I'd imagine the two of you have grown closer," she continued. "It couldn't have been easy having someone up in your head all the time—"

"Alright, enough." Uncomfortable with his seated position in the conversation, Levi stood. He wasn't going to continue the vague-game. "Yes, it was fucking bizarre being trapped in a headspace with the brat for a prolonged period of time, but neither of us did anything untoward, if that's what you're getting at. We're soldiers first." Yes, he would lie, even if he had to justify it in his head as only a half-truth; they'd crossed a professional boundary, but both parties had done so willingly. "What are you alluding to?"

Erwin was already holding up his hand. "We're making no implications, Levi." Once more, his blue eyes flicked to Hanji, a reprimand in their depths. "The point is this. Miss Ackerman and you have always been invaluable in this fight for humanity. The last few months illustrated what it could look like if we lost one or both of you. Morale aside, Levi, we felt the loss of your presence."

"Not just as a soldier," Hanji added quickly.

Several beats passed in silence, punctuated by the periodic crackle from the hearth. Levi really was too drained to piece through the nuances of this interaction. That, or perhaps he really had left his sanity down in that fucking cell. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I still don't follow where you're taking this."

Erwin's reply was swift and succinct, simultaneously ending the meandering topic and stealing the air from the room. "look after each other."

He wanted to ask for clarification, for the sentence to be repeated. Sitting back down suddenly seemed like a tempting option. Even Hanji looked mildly taken aback by the commander's frank words.

"As I said, this is bigger than we'd previously imagined," Erwin continued, a sudden enervation presenting itself in the fine lines around his eyes, making him appear older than his years. "Just...do what you must to keep each other alive."

There was an underlying message to Erwin's words that was both carefully concealed and starkly apparent, and Levi wished he could drum up an appropriate response. There really wasn't one, though. Not unless he wanted to call out the subtext. A thank you felt incongruous. "Alright, then," he began, to soften the following, "are we done here?"

"Yes, we're done," Erwin replied, and Levi couldn't tell if he sounded relieved or amused.

Guilt seized him in the hall—perhaps he could have done with being a bit more courteous toward Erwin. And with Hanji, for that matter. The curt nature of their conversations had lost their edge over the years and had become more a natural component to their interactions; still, both soldiers had risked a lot, least of all their positions, to see Levi's safe return to the surface, and he thought that warranted a little divergence from the norm.

"Levi?" He'd drifted again. He paused mid stride, eyes landing on a familiar figure coming down the hall.

"Efran."

The tattooed man fell into stride next to him, hands buried in the deep pockets of his overcoat. "Headed somewhere?"

"Dinner." More out of habit than necessity. He wasn't hungry.

"Ah." Their boots fell in and out of sync, and Levi was well aware that his companion had shortened his stride for his sake. "Meeting go well?"

"Well enough." He wasn't being evasive, but he was tired. Efran was shrewd enough to know when to let a subject lie. "How's the kid doing?"

A rare smile graced the tattooed man's face at the mention of the Titan girl. "She's resilient, that one. Still having those nightmares. Misses her dad."

Levi nodded, grim. The girl had seen and lost more than was fair for anyone, let alone a child. While no one had assigned Efran role of caretaker to Dennard, it quickly became clear that the girl had taken a shine to him. He was no replacement for the parent she'd lost—and the late innkeeper couldn't have been more different—but perhaps in his brooding countenance she'd found a sort of protector. "She feels safe with you." If the look that crossed Efran's face was anything to go by, the man took the statement as a high compliment.

"I hope so." Efran slowed his stride, eventually pausing before one of the tall, arched windows lining the corridor. "Might sound strange, but I feel as if I'm undertaking something both delicate and vital." He looked at Levi, his bearded face awash in the pastel hues of the sunset. "Probably because I am."

"Do you feel burdened?"

Efran shook his head, adamant. "No. More...determined. To get it right."

It was then that it all seemed to hit Levi—a delayed reckoning there in the fading light, weighted by the ever present pain of those he'd lost. And those he could still lose. Levi gritted back the sudden swell of embarrassing emotion and straightened his shoulders. "You're a good man, Efran. I owe you much."

In his periphery, Efran's head snapped to him. "Can't think of anything I've done that warrants such a statement." The smile was audible in his voice. "You might be the goddamned hope of humanity, but to me you'll always be that scrappy kid I met in that hellhole all those years ago." He tapped his foot against the flags, as if they were stood right above the very place. "We're all dealt our lot, aren't we? You Ackermans have yours, but by God you two live up to your name, and that's not me blowing smoke up your ass." Efran's heavy hand rested upon his shoulder. "I don't keep a tally of favors, and I know you don't either. That's not how it works. And if ever there comes a time when the two of you require me you'll let me know."

Not a demand, but not a request either. Levi nodded.

The sun flared red and dim on the horizon, a boiling beacon in the distance. The show was over, the moment gone. Efran sighed and turned from the window. "Well, seems a bit odd that you'd go clear to the mess hall for dinner. You never struck me as the sociable type."

"I'm not the sociable type."

The fading light glinted off Efran's teeth as he grinned. "Maybe you should stay in, then." The prickle of suspicion from before was back. "You wouldn't be the only one." The tattooed man gave one last glance out the window before resuming his trek down the hall.

"Where are you going?"

"Dinner." He was smiling again. Without breaking stride, he turned over his shoulder and chuckled, "goodnight, Levi."

Levi stood there, watching the man leave, and even after he'd rounded the corner and his footsteps had faded Levi remained standing there. The sky had gone from fire to a deep violet, the fading light casting tall shadows along the walls of the corridor. Levi's boots rang along the flags, a sense of compelling familiarity tailing him. He recalled walking to Erwin's office that day, the day this whole mess had started. Even then, there had been a connection when he'd entered the room, when he'd seen her. Not attraction—not immediately, maybe—but some long-held understanding of her presence that leapt to the surface as soon as he'd seen the back of her ebony hair.

Oh, how she'd detested him. And he her, for that matter. Levi could have laughed at it all now, and even still he found himself grinning as he made his way to her. She'd called him a coward once, straight to his face, and now more than ever that title suited him. He'd been hiding from her, from this thing between them. Afraid of losing it, all the while pushing it away. He'd almost lost her…

And just like that, he was at her door.

It was dark now. Silent. That was something Levi hadn't accounted for—the quiet. When he'd initially imagined what it would feel like to finally have his mind to himself again, to be free of Mikasa's presence, he'd anticipated a relief of sorts. An unburdening effect. Solitude was a coveted pastime of his, and even now he could appreciate the luxury of being left alone with his thoughts, but the inherent loneliness was a component he'd never registered before. There was a ringing in his ears signaling the absence of something, a cruel tinnitus that drove him to seek a familiar din to fill the vacant space.

That's why you're here, isn't it?

Five minutes had gone by—he was close enough to the door to hear the faint tick of the clock on the wall, to count the seconds.

Coward.

He could not, however, hear her, and if it hadn't been for the faint light leeching underneath the door he would have thought her absent.

Just knock already.

Once again his hand lifted, fist forming, only to whip back against his side. Should some sleepless soul decide to wander the darkened halls at this time, they'd surely think him a sight. The thought of potentially getting caught after hours outside a subordinate's bedroom without a well-thought excuse was what finally spurred Levi to action. He knocked twice, tentative, and then followed with a more confident triplet.

And then he waited.

Silence seemed to stretch for eternity. The high beams of the barracks creaked their age, mocking his restive form in the darkness below. In the room beyond, he could hear no further disturbance aside from the hateful pulse of the clock.

She was out, then, and the light had been left on. Efran had been wrong. He'd come back another time. Or not at all. This was emotionally-driven, anyway, not at all planned. He blamed Efran, annoyed that he'd been so easily coerced by something that hadn't been explicitly stated. Perhaps it was for the best that she wasn't—

Levi startled back as the latch rattled to life and the door creaked open. If Mikasa looked surprised to see him, she did a good job of concealing it; though she did appraise him for a moment before murmuring a soft, "hello."

He stood, dumb, before recovering his faculties and responding with a weak, "I thought you were out."

The door opened a few inches more, revealing Mikasa in her entirety—she was in her nightclothes—the faint candlelight in the background catching the tips of her newly-shorn hair. It was the shortest he'd seen it, the ends wispy around her ears and jaw, but the messy cut suited her finer strands. It was a good cut for her, made her appear slightly older. Levi refused to let his eyes linger on the thin material of her shirt.

"I thought it might be you," she stated, letting the door fall open the rest of the way before turning on her heel.

Again his tongue seemed to fail him. She had returned well into the shadows of her room before he finally managed a rudimentary attempt at speech. "You cut your hair."

"Maybe." In the dark, he caught the gleam of an onyx eye. Then she said, "you certainly took your time."

Had she been waiting? He tried not to rush his entry into the room, forcing himself to close the door with deliberate care. "Might have gotten waylaid."

Within the room, the door closed behind him, the silence was very different. Mikasa fidgeted with her hair, the hem of her shorts, suddenly unsure of herself. She was striking before the window, the moonlight reflecting off her pale skin, making it glow, and Levi was momentarily caught on her image.

"You're staring."

"I am."

Maybe it was cruel to enjoy seeing her flustered, to revel in being one of the only few who could; but the lane went both ways, and he was torn between looking away from her and closing the distance between them. He chose the former. "I don't know when it happened," he began, eyes scouring the ground between them as if the answers he sought were written on the floorboards, "but at some point I stopped wanting you out of my head and became used to your existence there." His eyes drifted up to hers. "And now I miss you terribly." This was it. This was what he'd come here for.

Mikasa's breath visibly caught, dark eyes widening at his confession. Then she looked away, a dusky blush coloring her cheeks. "I should have come to see you," she whispered, and he could hear the gentle waver there. Her youth came through then, and her inexperience. He had nothing above her on that regard. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, chancing a step toward her. "Why didn't…?" He was unsure of how to phrase the question, though he suspected the answer—some version of his own.

She understood him well enough. She inhaled, girded herself. "I was afraid."

A beat. "Of me?"

Her head lifted, mouth parting on a silent note. "No." The reply was immediate, and he'd have been lying if he'd said it didn't make him feel reassured. She looked away from him, incertitude clouding her features once more. "I'm afraid of us, maybe."

"Of what we're capable of?" He wanted to touch her, hold to her in some way. He was close enough now to clutch her elbow. She let him.

"Not that." Her eyes drifted but didn't rise to him. "I've never…" She leaned into his hand which now cradled her jaw. "I've never felt something like this." Her voice was a breath.

The flesh on the underside of her chin was smooth and supple, and he traced there with his thumb. "I beg to differ." No bitterness, just a statement.

"Eren?" Confusion, briefly, but then she angled her face, a quiet persistence tempering her features—resolve, not at all the perfervid mein of callow youth, and this too made him feel reassured. She shook her head against his hand, a short, gentle little shake. "No. That was different. Real, but different."

"You're afraid of the unknown, then?"

A nod. "Aren't you?"

Levi returned the nod, nose sliding along the slope of her cheekbone to greet her temple, where her scent was strongest. She pressed against him, fingers gripping at his shoulders, but even still he could feel her tension. "Do you miss it? The bond?" His hand skirted around her waist, dipping beneath her shirt to feel the smooth skin of her lower back.

"Yes and no." She sighed and relaxed into him, fingers moving from his shoulders to splay across his chest. He wanted her hands in his hair, to feel the blunt drag of her nails on his scalp again. "Do you?"

"I like this better."

Mikasa shuddered, molding to him. "What is this?" she breathed, pulling him ever closer.

"Does it need a name?" God he wanted to kiss her.

She croaked something against his neck, an incoherent hum in her throat. She was alight in his arms, practically trembling with pent up fear. This was the piece of her psyche she kept hidden from everyone. Another croak, this one with intelligible words behind it, a broken, "I can't lose you."

I can't. Not, I don't want to, or even the hypothetical what if? And it was like she'd spread out his soul and read its contents, announced his shared terror. They held to each other, and even in the throes of his torment he could acknowledge the ridiculousness of himself and maybe even her—the strongest, tethered together by their fear of losing the other.

He was breathing her in, smoothing the entire planar of her back, feeling each note along her spine. She quivered and sighed in his arms, her fingers in his hair now, hips fused to his, and he realized he was mouthing her name against her clavicle. He pulled away to look at her face. "Sometimes I want you back in my head." His lips found her jaw again, hovering but not tasting. "I think you made more sense of the things there than I did."

The jagged hybrid of a laugh and a cry left her. She tilted her head back to feel his mouth against her neck. "You've seen me now," she said, and there was something like relief in her voice. "I think you've really seen me."

The kiss was almost savage in its inception, but neither had been unprepared, and very quickly they found their rhythm. She kissed like she fought, volatile and agile all at once, adapting to him yet testing. She fucked like that too, and the thought made him groan against her mouth. She was so responsive, so tuned in to where he was and how she could affect him—he bit, she opened, she sucked, he sighed, and when he reached for the supple flesh of her backside, she pressed into him without a trace of inhibition.

Breathless sounds left her as his mouth busied itself with the delicate skin of her clavicle. Her nails dragged through his hair, and his hips jutted forward against hers despite himself. He very nearly groaned when she hooked her calf around the back of his own, opening her legs more to better feel him.

She was writhing against him now, a prurient host in his arms, and the soft contact of her pert, little breasts against his chest sent jolts of electricity straight to his groin. She was saying something, gasping it into his collar.

"What?" He leaned back to look at her, his voice more breathless than he'd intended.

"Please, I…" She was clutching at the front of his shirt, tugging on the fabric. "Please stay with me."

Whether she meant tonight or always didn't matter, his answer would still be the same. He nodded, aiding her in the removal of his shirt before attending to hers. Her face was momentarily covered as she lifted the garment over her head, and he dove for her exposed breasts. She cried out and clutched at his hair again, letting him press her against the wall.

Her skin was so soft, and he was suddenly aware of just how rough his hands were. And yet, for all the smooth softness of her flesh, the power in her muscles was readily apparent. Not for the first time, the memory of a certain bar fight crossed his mind.

He took his time maneuvering from one breast to the other before making his way down to the soft skin beneath each. When he reached the firm expanse of her belly, she tensed.

"What are you doing?" The insecurity bled into her voice as he lowered himself to his knees. Her dark eyes were doe-wide, short hair falling about her face as she tilted her head to look down at him.

"What does it look like?" Throwing her own words back at her was almost as satisfying as the little sigh she made when his hands slid up the creamy-white expanse of her inner thighs.

Yes, Mikasa Ackerman wore red well, he decided—the charming blush that spread across her cheeks would have appeared undignified on anyone else. "Uh, I," she squeaked as his lips made contact with the inside of her right knee.

"Yes?" He moved to the other knee, giving her time but also rather enjoying this unwonted side of her. "Do you want me to stop?" She might have been the one stuttering, but he would do any damn thing she wanted.

The doe eyes had softened, lashes fanning almost sleepily, and he wondered how pathetic it made him that he would find her damned eyelashes erotic. She shook her head, a wordless signal for him to continue. He did.

Her fingers flexed and curled at her side—in anticipation or nervousness, he didn't know. Possibly both. He trailed his hands along her thighs, up the cut of muscle on the sides, watching with fascination as gooseflesh emerged beneath his touch. His fingers curled into the waist of her shorts, exposing a hipbone for his mouth, lower still, and she shivered as his teeth grazed her flesh.

That sound. The little catch in her breath and the barely-heard whine—understanding Mikasa was a delicate process, and she was not the type to give false praise in the form of theatrics. He remembered that sound, and it meant she enjoyed whatever he was doing very much.

"Fuck, you do this often?"

Levi hummed against her, and she whimpered at the sensation. In truth, he'd done this only once, very long ago. It hardly went toward experience, but the girl at the time had provided him with an apt, and rather lasting, comparison; it probably wasn't the most appropriate of moments to bring up past partners, so he only said, "you ever eaten a peach, Ackerman?"

The gritty scrape of her nails digging into the wall above his head was strangely arousing. He hummed again, enjoying the gasp it earned him— goddammit he was so hard and she hadn't even touched him yet. Mikasa's breathing had quickened, breaking occasionally into little ahs and sighs.

He knew she was going to come by the way she suddenly went quiet and how her hand shot to his hair, gripping the strands tightly. The quasi-pain of her grip made him moan, and then she was arching forward, her other hand digging fruitlessly against the wall behind her as she gasped and juddered.

Small fingers curved around his chin, prying his mouth from her tender flesh. He'd barely risen to standing when she threw her arms over his shoulders and captured his mouth with her own.

Frenzied fingers slipped and shook as she fumbled with his belt buckle. Levi caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, content to revel in the greedy pliability of her lips. He wanted to take her against the wall like this—then again, the desk inspired an equal amount of interest, and he was suddenly overcome with the prospect of being with her like this again, and then again and then yet again.

"Why are you smiling?" she muttered against his mouth, her own pulling upwards at the corners.

"I wanted to taste you like that," he said into her neck, and he knew she was blushing. She arched against him, those pert little breasts taunting, and he released her wrists to pull at his belt.

Her hand dove for his pants but he caught her fingers. "No," he jerked his chin to the right, breathless, "bed."

She didn't argue, slipping around him and making a beeline across the room. He tried not to stumble over his own pants as he followed her, wanting to catch her waist while she was turned; she was too quick, spinning in his arms and melding their bodies together again.

Levi was astounded by her boldness, how she reached between them and took him in hand—though her movements were a bit awkward. He figured she was driven more by lust and curiosity than actual experience. His mind blanked as she worked his burning flesh, his forehead falling to her shoulder with a groan. "This could end very quickly if you keep that up, brat," he grunted.

"Are you telling me to slow down?" The smile was audible in her voice, that coy lilt he'd come to recognize as reserved for only him.

"Yeah," he breathed, catching her hands and bringing them around to the small of her back. "We have time now."

There was a notable shift then; in how she kissed him, held him, and he made sure to memorize the little sounds she made or the way she felt beneath him.

What a fool he had been to ever turn away from her, from this. Laying her across the bed was a ridiculously addictive experience; her neck was pale and stretched, head angled back as she arched to receive him, and he could only watch in silent wonderment. The tender way she had brushed her hands along his jaw left him with a certain devastation and a dangerous, tight feeling in his chest. It was almost a relief when her grip in his hair turned possessive.

Her body pulled him in, urged a gasp from him which he gave to her neck. She was soft and hard and liquid fire in his arms, the broken murmur of his name on her tongue like a death and renascence all at once. It would be all too easy to lose himself in her like this, and if he had been a lesser man with less restraint he would have—but the way her brow creased in beautiful agony as he rocked slow in and out of her kept him at a sedate pace, if only to witness her reaction. She dug her nails into his shoulders, hooked her heels around his lower back to urge him on. Still, he resisted her, refused her; and thus it was the limn of their dynamic, the give and take that had resided there since the beginning.

Finally, Mikasa appeared to grow tired of letting him win; with a shove, he was the one on his back. She didn't say anything as she clambered back over him, her eyes intense, burning, and he felt no urge to fill the silence. There was something transcendental about her movements, about the ghost-like glow of her flesh in the moonlight, how her features hid and revealed themselves in the shadows every time she turned her head. Her voice broke through on every other breath, something desperate in its murmur, swelling and rising. Her fingers marked his chest, gripping his arms and then tangling with his hands.

"God," she gasped when he touched her right there, drawn by the center of her above him. Her spine arched, "fuck," breath juddering out of her chest. She came against his hand, and he turned them over once again, chasing after her. At the height of his release, he felt his senses were not his own, that her breath was his and their pulses was shared, and he became drunk on the euphoria—deaf and breathless and the only kind of helpless he'd care to be.

The moon was staring at him. He'd rolled away from her, leaving them in their shared recovery, and he had perfect view of the night sky through the frosted window. He closed his eyes to it, listening to Mikasa's slowing breath. A beat. Two. And then Levi rose to his elbows and looked over at her. Her eyes, like a cat's, gleamed back at him, a pale hand coming to touch upon her mouth. "You alright?"

A smile. She nodded, hand falling down to graze his shoulder. Levi pulled her to him, and a small piece of him rejoiced that she didn't shy away when he kissed her again. He couldn't stop touching her—he liked how his hands looked on her waist, her thighs. She curled into him, head on his shoulder and body flush with his side, and again his fingers found the trail of her spine. Her breath was soft and warm against his neck as she whispered, "you spoke with Erwin today."

He hummed a yes. "Hanji, too."

"What was that about?" A pause, then she added, "if I can ask."

"You can ask. It had to do in part with you, actually." She was calm against him, listening. "I think they know."

Mikasa stilled. Then she sat, eyes searching his face. "About this?"

The moon really did do wonders to her skin. He traced her clavicle, between her breasts. "Maybe." And then, because he knew that wasn't enough for her, "they can at least understand how all this might have brought us closer." Look after each other. He told her about the meeting, about Erwin's and Hanji's joint attempt at getting their point across. She listened in silence, eyes rapt, on him. He liked having her like this, with her face above him, blocking out everything else so it was only she. The moon blazed behind her head like a milky crown, lending her an ethereal glow. "Closer," he requested with a whisper, kissing her, feeling the new shortness of her tresses between his fingers.

A coy smirk against his mouth. "Closer." She kissed him again.

The knowledge of how easily she could undo him was more than humbling, and Levi was certain he'd never felt his fragile, this exposed. Then again, she was just as bare as he. And that too was humbling. He traced the bow of her lip with his thumb, reveling in the fullness of it, taking in the planes of her face. "Do you know why?" She did know, but he asked anyway. Because how could one really, fully know? Yet she nodded, needing no explanation for his meaning, and settled back into his arms, wrapping her own around his body. Circuit complete.

"I know why." And she did.

A/N: You guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you for supporting me through this. This kind of thing, ending a story, is oddly emotional regardless, but there's the added element of this being my first time publishing my work and letting the world see it. There was a time, around chapter 3 or 4, when I was this close to scrapping it. I had a little crisis of faith, both in myself and in the story, and I began to panic—WTF am I doing? I warred with taking the story down (and maybe even deleting my various accounts on AO3 and and tumblr), that's how crazy I got. But the overwhelming support I received from you guys compelled me to stick with it, and I'm SO glad I did. So, thank you to all of you for reading, reviewing, reposting, and offering your time and support. This has been such a great learning experience for me, and I hope you enjoyed the ride, too. And if you're finishing this several years from now for the first time, I hope you liked it too! On to our final chapter.

Oh, and a special thanks to the girl who planted the seed of this story in the first place. We were just talking shit over wine one night, and now I've written my first fanfic. Thanks, J. xx