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Ch.23- "Story"

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Erwin's mind slowly crawled towards consciousness, but he fought to keep his eyes closed, reveling in the cocoon of warmth and peace and quiet he was wrapped in. The events of the previous day had not yet caught up with him and he drifted between sleep and waking, sorely tempted to slip back into the former. His efforts to wriggle further into the nest of blankets were thwarted however, and reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The room was still dark, his curtains blocking most of the pale morning light. He tried to angle his gaze down, and his chin brushed against the top of Thomasin's head. In the field, her hair had been twisted and tied tight against her head, the way she wore it during her years as a soldier, but at some point in the night, it came loose and her curls expanded to fill what little space there was in the blanket cavern. They coiled around his fingers splayed across her back.

At some point in the night, too, they had moved closer together as they slept, seeking warmth as the night grew colder. Their arms wrapped around one another, their legs tangled together until it was all but impossible to tell where one of them stopped and the other began. With Thomasin pressed so tightly against him, her breath warm against his chest, the last eight months felt like a strange, misremembered memory. Trailing his fingers down along the curve of her spine, he frowned as he felt the ridges of the bone beneath the thin cloth and skin.

Despite all the effort the refugees had put into attempting to farm, no food had been produced in the camps up north, the seed and tools and manpower all having gone to waste. Now that there were some two hundred thousand less mouths to feed, the supposed food shortage wouldn't be felt nearly as strong. The Assembly would no doubt want to hear the results of their ingenious plan as soon as possible. Word would have traveled fast as the gates of Trost opened and less than a percent of the people who left that morning returned. Did any of those powerful men feel the weight, the guilt of their decision, or did they sleep soundly in their big, warm beds, thinking of nothing but what they would break their fast with?

Whatever half-hearted hope Erwin may have harbored for sleeping in a bit longer was dashed as bitterness filled his mind and spurred him awake. He didn't have the luxury of lazing about in bed like a fat leech, swollen with taxpayer money- regardless of what the masses may have believed. Untangling his hand from the dark tresses binding it, he threw the side of the comforters covering him off, the rush of cold air waking him further.

Mumbling a noise of discontent, Thomasin, still asleep, curled up tighter in the curve of Erwin's body, using him as a barricade against the cold. Her right leg had somehow made its way between both of his, and as she shifted, her knee brushed against his half erect cock. The sudden jolt of pleasure only spurred him to free himself from her grasping hands and the anchor of her leg even quicker. Miracle of miracles, she remained asleep throughout his frenzied scuttling, even when the bed creaked loudly as he sat up. It was a mark of how exhausted she was, poor thing. The last thing she needed was to wake up to think he was getting off on this.

Turning the covers back down, Erwin stood and nearly tripped over a pile of clothes dropped haphazardly right beside the bed. He hadn't just thrown his clothes down like that, had he? No, he'd tossed them over by the table. These weren't his clothes. Picking them up, he frowned as he gave the uniform a quick once over. There wasn't much light to examine it by, but from what he could see, it didn't matter. Every embroidered patch had been removed from the jacket, leaving him unable to determine even what regiment this uniform came from. Even the tailor's tag on the inside of the collar which usually bore the soldier's initials had been ripped off.

Something else was in its place, however. A dark stain. It was far more noticeable on the shirt, bigger too, engulfing the entire back of the collar. Erwin squeezed the stain, but it was bone dry. To have bled this much… He would have noticed if Thomasin was injured that badly, would have felt something when his fingers brushed against her neck only a minute ago. It wasn't her blood any more than it was her uniform. The ODM gear she'd been found wearing was still in his office.

Roughly folding the clothes, he set them on his table as he pulled out a clean uniform and headed into the adjacent bathroom. Usually, he bathed immediately after a mission, the stench of blood and sweat that clung to his skin too distracting to ignore, but yesterday, his mind had been… elsewhere.

Much like the bedrooms, the only real difference between this bathroom and the one in his old quarters was that it was slightly bigger. It took just as long from the hot water to crawl all the way from the boiler room in the basement to this room, however, almost a solid minute before the icy spray warmed to a bearable temperature. Still not hot, but warm enough that Erwin didn't worry a shower was going to leave him with hypothermia. He simply stood still for a moment, head bowed, water streaming down his face to drip from the tip of his nose, his parted lips. His thoughts bounced back and forth from professional to personal.

Given that this "expedition" had been a failure, they would need to set out again as quickly as possible to actually start laying down a supply line, but it was possible- probable, even- that the Assembly might try to use this failure against them. How long until the general public twisted what happened to make it sound like this slaughter was all the doing of the Survey Corps? Oh, it was depressing how little faith he had in his fellow humans, but years of their calumny left him distrustful at the best of times. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially now…

Heh. To think, almost a year ago, the biggest thing he worried about was being rejected by Thomasin. He never even had the chance to buy that ring… Hange's voice floated to the top of his memory, You gotta take that risk, Erwin; nothing ventured, nothing gained… For months, he'd lamented all the things he hadn't said, and yet now that he'd been given a second chance, his lips felt no looser.

His friends would have had him confess his undying love the moment he recognized her on the battlefield, and perhaps they would be right- maybe that's exactly what he should have done, but… there was something in her dark eyes, something in the stiffness of her smile that reminded him of the way she had been all that time ago in the Training Corps. Closed off. Unfathomable. A walled city unto herself, and the time they'd spent apart only saw those walls that he'd taken so long to peek over grow taller, thicker. She shut down when he asked her a simple question; he didn't want to imagine what she would do if he confronted her with something as weighty as love. The water was getting hotter, the little pinpricks against his skin growing more painful the longer he stood under it. A grim reminder of all the painful unpleasantness waiting for him outside this tiny, humid sanctuary.

Having dragged his feet as long as he could, Erwin stepped out of the bathroom looking a completely different man from the one who went in. Clothes starched and pressed, not a single hair out of place, Commander Smith was not a man who lost sleep over or dwelled on anything. There was not an uncertain, hesitant bone in his body. Grabbing the uniform from the table, he paused on his way to his office. Thomasin had shifted over to his abandoned spot on the bed, trying to cling to any lingering warmth available. He could see how stiff she was, curled into as tight a ball as possible.

Setting the clothes down for a moment, he pulled another blanket from the chest and draped it over her, tucking all three of them tightly around her body, the way his father used to do for him in the winter. She relaxed almost immediately, and Erwin smiled despite himself. He very much liked the look of this scene, Thomasin wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed, 'where she belongs…'

The smile slipped from his face at once and he snatched the uniform up, quickly walking out. The time they'd spent apart had changed him, too- when would he have ever had a thought like that before? Maybe that was why she'd been surprised by his being "so polite"- maybe with society frayign at the edges, she expected him to say every insipid, repugnant thing that came to mind like so many MPs and even Garrison officers did. No, he was not nearly so brazen or foolish.

~o0o~

Examining the ODM gear in his office accomplished nothing. The single holster and gas tank both bore a serial number starting with "SC", meaning those items had been produced for the Survey Corps specifically, but they were both much newer than the motor and anchors. She'd probably picked them up from a fallen Scout- these parts were meant to be interchangeable, after all. The serial number on the motor had been filed off somehow, not even a hint of indentation left in the patch of shiny, scratched metal where it would have been. It shouldn't have come as a surprise- of course a soldier would know what identifying marks ODM gear had, they had to present their gear for inspection twice a year in the Training Corps- but why do such a thing in the first place, he wanted to know.

Levi and his companions hadn't bothered covering up where they'd gotten their illicit gear from (a Garrison warehouse in Orvud, of all places. The corruption spread far and wide…). Of course, they probably just assumed no one would ever apprehend them, but then, who did Thomasin think was going to apprehend her? The more logical part of Erwin's mind reminded him that it was possible she hadn't filed the numbers off in the first place, but that only raised more questions. Who would take the risk of stealing gear from the military, know enough about said gear to scrub it of any identifying marks, and then smuggle it to a refugee marked for death?

No, his gut was telling him there was no middleman involved; Thomasin got this gear from… somewhere- probably the same place she got that suspiciously bloody uniform- and spent god only knew how long ensuring no one would be able to trace any of it back to its source. In a strange way, he was proud of her. The government had condemned her to the most terrifying death imaginable, and she said "no". She somehow managed to survive a third mission beyond the walls, crippled as she was. And to think, he'd ever tried to convince himself his feelings were only platonic… Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to suss out any more information about the gear (at least for now), Erwin set it aside and headed down to the mess hall, less because he suddenly remembered he hadn't eaten in almost twenty four hours, and more because he suddenly remembered that he'd never checked in on his section commanders or lieutenant.

~o0o~

For as crowded as it was, the mess hall was uncharacteristically quiet. Huddled around the tables closest to the back wall were men with long unshaven beards and women with unkempt, tangled hair shoveling the watery porridge into their mouth as though it were a king's feast. Scanning the tables for the tallest head, Erwin intended to speak to Mike before the other officers- he'd have to start on this round of death certificates sooner or later- but Hange was waving desperately to try and catch his attention against Cecile tugging them back into their seat, and if they stretched any further, they'd dislocate their arm. He walked over, standing directly behind them. The other members of Cecile's squad quickly averted their gazes, making it known that they had nothing to do with this.

"Yes, Officer Zoë?"

"Eat with us, sir!"

"I'm not here to eat, Hange-"

"But… you didn't eat dinner last night… I mean, you were going to need to talk with the Section Commander anyway; you might as well have breakfast and kill two birds with one stone!" They had taken Cecile's warning about showing him respect to heart, but Hange could only maintain this formal disposition for so long. If he gave into their needling, he knew they would end up blurting out something he didn't want Officers Berner and LeGrow to hear.

"I'm afraid I don't have time for that, Hange. Cecile, do you or Greta have have the names of the refugees in the women's barracks?"

"I do, sir. On my desk. Do you want me to go get it for you?"

"No. Bring it to my office after breakfast." He paused, thinking for a moment before bending to speak in a hushed tone. "I know this is highly unprofessional, but do you have any clothes I can borrow?" She drew back a bit, eyeing him up and down as her lips twisted in confusion.

"None that would fit you."

"Not for me." Hange gasped loudly, leaning further across the table to interject themselves into the conversation.

"So it's true!?" they whisper-slash-shouted, vibrating with excitement. "Horace said-"

"Hange…"

"Why are you asking Cecile? She's tiny! I have plenty of clothes; I can bring her something-"

"No, what you can do is mind your own business, Officer Zoë." He lowered his voice once more, a hiss only the bespectacled soldier could hear. "I mean it; if I see you on the third floor, I will remove you-"

"-from the Survey Corps?!"

"-from the census." They held their hands up in surrender, but there was insidiousness to their smile that put him on edge.

"Don't go on the third floor; got it, Commander." He eyed them suspiciously, knowing this wasn't going to be the end of it. He didn't have time to waste on such things, however. Dietrich and Mike would be bringing up the respective lists they were in charge of after breakfast as well, and he needed to start penning the mission report he would have to send to the Assembly…

Glancing around the mess hall, a sense of loneliness scratched at the back of his mind. He was so used to taking meals with his squads, but those squads had all been broken up into their own little groups. If he'd accepted Hange's invitation, that could be construed by the other Scouts as "playing favorites", and even if it wasn't, how awkward would it be to converse with two people at the table while ignoring the other two? It was no wonder Shadis took his meals in his office; solitude was the easier option.

Of course, Erwin potentially wouldn't be alone in his office. The cook frowned slightly when he requested two bowls, but said nothing, prudently deferring to the person who was approving his salary. Balancing a tray laden with twice what it usually would, he made his way back upstairs. Everything was quiet as he stepped into the office, setting the tray down on his desk as he grabbed one of the steaming bowls. The little "click" as the door leading to his bedroom opened was deafening against the silence.

"Thomasin?" he whispered, in case she was still asleep. It took a few seconds for his eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom, the curtains still drawn and all, but he eventually noticed the dark shadow of the figure sitting in the middle of the bed.

"G'morning…" she mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep. Erwin smiled warmly.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"I don' remember falling asleep… Did I steal your bed? Sorry…" Oh. She must have thought he slept elsewhere…

"It's fine. I'm glad you were able to rest." He sat on the edge of the bed, only noticing now that he was close enough that the gaping collar of his shirt had slid down off her shoulder, exposing most of her breast. Thomasin's eyes were closed, her head lolling forward as though she had fallen asleep again. Averting his gaze- but not before noticing the ring of even darker skin where the fabric strained against her nipple- he pulled the collar back up with two fingers, the brush of his knuckles against her neck rousing her once more. "I brought you breakfast," he told her quickly, grateful for the shadows- god forbid if his face looked as hot as it felt. After months of dormancy, those stirrings were coming back as strong as ever… Shifting, she took the bowl from him, holding it with both hands. The chill in the room was enough for goose flesh to prickle his arms, and the porridge was still warm enough that steam wafted from its surface. Thomasin made no attempt to eat, however, simply staring at the contents of the bowl.

"The food in the Corps is just as bad as you remember…"

She didn't laugh or smile or even acknowledge his sorry excuse for a joke. She just continued staring at the bowl in her lap. Erwin's initial assumption was that she was warming her hands, or maybe still too tired to eat- how many times had he been in the same situation?- but the sun rising higher allowed for a few weak shafts of light to enter through the gap in the curtain, catching Thomasin's face just enough for him to see the tears dripping down her chin. It didn't take long at all for her breath to hitch and that first choked whimper to escape her lips. Erwin was just as taken aback now as he had been atop wall Maria nine years ago, but this time he did not freeze in his confusion. Taking the bowl from her and setting it on the bedside table, there was no hesitation this time as he moved closer, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back as she wept pitifully into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay now…"

"No, it's not…!" Her voice was muffled by his shirt, her words cut off by another sobbing fit.

Erwin couldn't tell exactly how long they stayed like that, only that it was long enough that his leg had begun cramping and the sun had risen high enough that, even with the curtains still drawn, a dull gray light illuminated the room. He pushed all of the dozens of questions he had from his mind, only allowing himself to worry that Thomasin might make herself sick crying so hard, and that her food was getting cold. Slowly, her weeping slowed into sniffles and hiccups. She felt limp as he sat her up, wiping her face with the cuff of his sleeve.

"…Thomasin, why didn't you come to the base? You had to have been in Trost." That faraway, despondent look in her eyes burned away in a flash of anger.

"Do you think I didn't try!? Do you think I wouldn't have come here if it were that easy!? We couldn't just-" Her words cut off as the fury was replaced with horror, tears welling in her eyes once again as she stared beyond Erwin at something only she could see.

"Thomasin." He grabbed her shoulders, wincing as he felt the ridges of her joints, and gave her a little shake, pulling her back. When her dark eyes met his, and he was certain it was actually him she was seeing, only then did he relax some of the tension in his own shoulders. "You need to eat something." He handed her the bowl back. It had cooled considerably, but was still warmer than room temperature. Her jaw tightened, teeth grinding together, chewing on words she ultimately swallowed. That fire in her eyes fizzled out, leaving them dull and inscrutable as she mechanically grabbed the spoon. Erwin watched intently as she slowly lifted to her mouth, chewing once, twice, before swallowing hard. Sighing, he squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm going to be right through that door. If you need anything, just call me." Trying to ignore the pins and needles shooting up his leg as he stood, he moved the crutches closer to the bed, backing out of the room to keep his gaze on her for as long as he could.

Bread in one hand, pen in the other, Erwin had just finished the third page of his mission report when a knock on the door preceded it opening. Mike hadn't even stepped over the threshold before his head was raised, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air greedily. The way he looked at the wall dividing the office from the sleeping quarters, one would swear he could see straight through the wood. Of course, he said nothing, only setting a sheaf of papers onto the desk.

"Casualties weren't as high as they could've been this time."

"A small blessing." Mike's gaze had once again wandered to the bedroom, but he continued addressing his commander.

"What are we gonna do with all these people? They can't stay here."

"Official recruitments aren't until April; they'll stay until I figure out what to do with them." The lieutenant's deep voice lowered until Erwin felt it reverberate in his chest.

"I know you're trying to be nice, Erwin, but who knows what kind of sicknesses these people are bringing from those camps? You can't put the Survey Corps at risk." The younger of the men frowned.

"No one's going to get sick in a few days."

"If you say so…"

"I do say so. I'm going to have several letters to send out today, so tell Levi to come up here in about two hours to collect them." Mike frowned, his brows scrunching together.

"Why him? Nanaba can send them out."

"I need to speak with Levi anyway." Stone gray eyes shifted to the bedroom again. "…you can leave now, Mike."

Erwin continued writing until the names of the missing and dead began blurring together. His muscles protested as he got to his feet, a sharp ache in his hip forcing him to lean against his desk for a moment until it passed. He remembered Frey complaining about the pain in his hips and knees, especially when the weather turned cold.

The dark-haired man had been a Scout for nearly eight years before Erwin graduated, and lamented with the other veterans that they would be hobbling around on canes in their forties. It was a futile hope, considering how few of them even lived that long.

The bedroom had been quiet, and as he peeked his head in, he noticed Thomasin laying down beneath the covers, the empty bowl on the nightstand. He assumed she was asleep, but she lifted her head, eyes flashing in the low light as she blinked. A small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips as he approached her.

"I hope you haven't been bored, laying here in the dark. I should have opened the curtains."

"No." She pulled the blankets up to her chin. "It's fine. It's been a long time since I could just lay in bed. Since I've been warm, and full…" Sitting on the edge of the bed, Erwin's hand hovered over her left thigh for a moment, before he returned it to his own lap. She was injured, he reminded himself, bruised and bloody. He wasn't soft and gentle like her; any attempts at comfort would probably do more harm than good, especially with that leg.

"What happened, Thomasin?" he asked, his voice low and quiet. She stared up at the ceiling, her thin face making her eyes look abnormally wide.

"…hell. Hell is what happened… I wanted to come here, Erwin- that was the first thing I tried to do- but I couldn't. If it was just me, maybe, but…"

"Who else was there?" She blinked slowly, turning her head to face him.

"…you remember the kids who lived below me? Hannah and Caleb?"

"Of course." Even as he said the words, he found he couldn't recall their faces. It hadn't even been a year since he'd seen them last, laughing and screaming as they splashed in the puddles left in the potholes of the townhouse's courtyard. So many of his memories were faded, old details obscured by more important information…

"I was almost home when the outer wall fell… I ran into their mother- she told me to take the kids to the ferry; she had to look for her husband. Most people hadn't gotten that far yet, but… Caleb, he wanted to go after his mom… I tried to grab him, but I was holding Hannah's hand and… I couldn't drag two kids with one hand… I couldn't carry them… I couldn't even run…" Erwin's face remained a stoic mask as he listened to her tale, but inside, he was roaring at himself, why, why hadn't he gone back?! He could have helped her- he could have done something…

"We were on the first ferry out, but we still saw it. The one that broke through the inner wall. I thought it was gonna charge the boats, but it didn't. It just… vanished… like we all imagined it. When we got to Trost, they sent us to the Garrison warehouse. I wanted to come to the Corps base, but they told me that if I left, I wouldn't be allowed back in- they said people in the street were being killed, and… and worse… and Hannah started crying and freaking out and- and I… I didn't know what to do…" He could see her eyes growing glassy, but no tears fell, even as her voice wavered and cracked.

"So I told her we would stay so her parents could find us when they got there." Thomasin shook her head. "They never came. Not her parents, not her brother… Every day I kept telling her that they were coming- the Survey Corps was killing all the Titans and saving everyone, but.. we both know that didn't happen. Every day, they sent us further and further to the outskirts of the district, and every day, we had to line up earlier and earlier for food. I tried telling the Garrison soldiers that I was a Scout, that I knew people in the Survey Corps and I needed to get a message to them, but no one believed me. No one cared. God, you thought the Garrison was bad in Shiganshina? These people here are monsters. I saw them beating children, for fuck's sake! I wanted to help, but if I opened my mouth, they wouldn't give us any rations… Then they shipped us up to Utopia…" The tears that had been shimmering in her eyes finally spilled, cutting twin streaks down her cheeks as Thomasin curled up on her side, her fists balled into the blankets so tight they shook.

"I tried so hard to take care of her, but there was no food and I- I… I tried so hard… I did so much… and it was all for nothing…" She buried her face in the comforter, but while her whole body shook, she remained silent. Erwin's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding painfully together. He could have spent a little longer looking for her in those early days, but he was so quick to give up. A decade later, and he hadn't grown up at all. No more talk, no more dreams…

"Thomasin… I'm so sorry."

"You couldn't do anything…" Her voice was muffled by the blankets pulled almost entirely over her head. He was almost grateful he didn't have to look at her.

"I could have… but I didn't."

"I didn't expect you to… It's not your problem…" Sniffling, she peeked out at him, a single eye gleaming from under the shadow of her hair. "When I heard about how bad the last expedition was, I figured you'd have to help pick up the pieces. And I was right. You have enough to worry about. You're the commander now… Did Shadis bite it?"

"No." Erwin couldn't keep the disdain from seeping into his voice. "He retired." The eye narrowed in distaste.

"I always knew he was full of shit…" She sighed heavily, seeming to deflate under the covers. "Nothing's changed… Back in the Corps for a day, and I don't know where I'm going to go now any more than I did back then…"

"I'll set you up in a room. We've had a surplus of them for years now, considering how many soldiers we've been hemorrhaging." Thomasin peeked her head out just enough for Erwin to see her lips tug into a frown.

"I can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"I'm not a Scout." Pale blue eyes stared at her, long and hard.

"What were you doing with that ODM gear, Thomasin?"

"…being inefficient with my fuel usage…"

"Your blades were equipped, and broken." She looked away from him, and Erwin smoothed her hair from her face, sighing as it bounced right back into place. "You were outside those walls, fighting with us. I don't know how, but I know why. You will always be a Scout, Thomasin." She shut her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was so quiet, he almost couldn't hear her.

"I'm not like you, Erwin…"

"No, you're not. I think you're much braver than I am. I know you're a better person than me." She shook her head, her eyes still shut tightly.

"You're so stupid, Smith… you don't know anything about anything…"

~o0o~

While he had finished the reports and death certificates, Erwin hadn't made nearly as much progress with all the condolence letters as he would have liked. Nineteen of their losses had been the cadets he'd recruited not a month ago, and there was just something so… distasteful in trying to romanticize the deaths of children. Telling their parents that they died bravely, even though he knew full well that most Scouts, no matter how old or experienced, usually spent their last seconds on this earth sobbing and begging for their mothers and fathers. They were heroes, their sacrifices meant something, every last one of them… The same words, the same meaningless platitudes, copied page after page with only the names changed… He hoped the families of the fallen wouldn't one day get together and compare those letters.

Every twenty minutes or so, he found himself getting up and popping back into his bedroom. Each time, he hoped Thomasin would be asleep; he just wanted to look at her, to remind himself that some good had come of that disaster. Alas, she was always awake, and every time, she would meet his gaze. By the third time, she was sitting up and facing the door, her right leg folded under herself.

The way her eyes gleamed as her lips quirked into an exasperated smirk was so much like her old self that Erwin couldn't help but grin as well, despite the heat climbing up his neck. It was well past noon by that point, and since she wasn't sleeping anyway, he opened the curtains, what little good humor he'd felt immediately snuffed out as he came face to face with Hange. His former squad mate was dangling outside his window on their ODM wires, hands cupped around their eyes to better see through the glass, a very put-upon Moblit just beneath them, sketchbook in hand. Hange's strangled expletive was muffled by the glass as they quickly reeled themselves up higher, their companion dropping his sketchbook in his haste to follow suit.

"Erwin? What was that?"

"…nothing. A particularly loathsome fly buzzing against the glass." Tying the curtains, he turned back around to face her. "Are you finally bored yet?" Thomasin stretched languidly. His shirt hitched up a bit, the gaps between the buttons revealing slashes of dark skin.

"No. I'm not crazy like you, Smith; I know how to appreciate rest and relaxation. I haven't had any in a very long time."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. You know, since you're going to keep coming in here every time I blink anyway, I wouldn't mind a change of scenery."

"I hope you don't mind looking at dusty books and an overworked commander."

"Eh, it'll do." She reached for the crutches, but Erwin would have nothing of it. Those were to be used for emergencies. Scooping her up, his heart lurched painfully as her breathy chuckle warmed his ear. "You're getting good at this, Smith."

"What, being your personal beast of burden?" He had to be mindful of just how much space the two of them took up as he sidled through the door. He almost dropped her as he turned and came face to face with Levi- he hadn't even heard the door open.

"…hope I'm not interrupting anything. Mike sent me up here. Said you had something to talk to me about. What'd I do this time?" Quickly recollecting himself, Erwin set Thomasin down on the couch, gathering the sealed envelopes on his desk.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Levi. On the contrary, I wanted to thank you." He looked up, meeting the shorter man's unknowable gaze. "You recognized Thomasin, didn't you? You were 'helping' me." Levi glanced at the woman, no change in his expression. So too did her own face give nothing away as their eyes met. Was she upset, seeing him again after learning the truth of his intentions back then? Happy that he was trusted enough to remain in service of the Survey Corps? Surprised he hadn't fled? And what of Levi himself? Erwin could not hazard a guess as to either of their feelings.

"…yeah, I thought the gimp looked familiar."

"If that were the case, you could have helped her up instead of yelling at her, knowing she only has one leg."

"That's what I said," Thomasin concurred, earning a scoff from Levi.

"You didn't need my help with that stolen ODM gear; you could pick your damn self up."

"…you're an asshole." Despite her words, there was no malice, no anger or offense in her voice. She sounded lightly exasperated at worst.

"If I were an asshole, I'd have left your ass there to become Titan shit." He turned back to Erwin. "Is this all? I need to get back to the barracks- you'd swear none of these people have even seen a mop before, the way they 'clean'." The commander frowned.

"You aren't putting the refugees to work, are you, Levi?"

"Of course I am. Those barracks are already filthy, and their filth is just piling onto that. You want an outbreak of red fever? Gut worms? Lice? Cuz that's how you get it." Well, he wasn't wrong. Still…

"These people are exhausted and traumatized, Levi. Don't work them until they drop." Another scoff.

"If they drop dead washing windows, they weren't long for this world anyway. Can I go now?" Erwin handed him the letters.

"Drop these off with Officer Blanchard on your way back." Levi stared at the letters for a long moment, his already thin lips pressed into so tight a line they appeared nonexistent. Ultimately, however, he took the letters without a spoken complaint, turning on his heel and leaving, no salute, but no muttered swears either. Such a dramatic turnaround from the openly hostile thug he used to be… The room remained silent until even the faint rhythm of retreating footsteps could no longer be heard.

"…still clingy, huh…?"

"What do you mean?" Thomasin shook her head, her expression guarded, her words almost a sigh.

"Nothing. He's right, y'know. You shouldn't let us stay here. There were a lot of sick people in those camps. Every day, they dropped like flies." Her shoulders sagged, and in the more stark light of his office, she looked so old, so worn down. "Hell isn't the Titans… Hell is watching people keel over in the fields, watching the MPs cut down bodies from the trees, only to wake up and find new ones in their place the next morning…"

"Executions?" She shook her head again, her sunken gaze so far away.

"Not the hangings; bullets were quicker. No, a lot of people just… couldn't bear it any longer. I don't blame them; that wasn't a life worth living… I wonder how many of them you're going to have to cut down here." It was a grim thought, but despite his initial instinct, he did not argue. She understood the minds of civilians better than he ever could. Instead, he silently filed away her warning in the back of his mind.

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A/N- I just want to say, to all the beautiful people who have been leaving reviews, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'd be writing this fic regardless, but it would be for my eyes only. Y'all are 90% of the reason I'm still posting it.