Titan War Heroes Emerge: Is a Scout Reunion on the Brink?

July 3rd, Adalia May

The lauded and recently incapacitated Levi Ackerman is rumored to have made a public appearance at Moriano Hall for last night's talent debut, though spectators are uncertain. "Even if it was Ackerman, I wasn't about to risk my life to double check," says Ruby Neigh, devout patron of New Marley fine arts. "I don't know about [Ackerman], but I'm pretty sure we were seated by Connie Springer. Hard to tell with those sunglasses though," husband Major Neigh adds.

Connie Springer and Levi Ackerman rumored to be at the same place? Is this the start of a war hero reunion? And just what happened to split up these former colleagues? When asked, Jean Kirstein and fiancee Mikasa Ackerman were evasive. "It's complicated," says Kirstein. "We're not taking questions at this time."

The lack of answers is making Marley Today all the more curious. Just what happened between these former comrades?

Was it for her? Karma wondered as she took in Levi's straight posture on the living room couch with a splayed-out Marley Today.

He met her eye. "Good morning."

"You're not in the library," Karma said, part observation, part question. She anticipated a comment about her outfit since he had eyed it for a fraction of a second. She would hate for him to think she'd perused the catalog in her closet out of anything other than necessity. Her tongue was loaded, ready to fire blame at the summer heat for the newly exposed skin that her usual black slacks and white blouse covered.

But Levi didn't comment on her light pink jumpsuit and nude flats. He just shrugged in response and sipped his tea. It could've been coffee given that it was first thing in the morning, but Karma prided herself in knowing his preferences. By the afternoon, he would be picking through an assortment of scones. Then a shared lunch and dinner with light conversation. By the time they reconveined from the collective pull of nightmares, he'd be back to tea and perhaps a small serving of whatever catered leftovers were currently stacked in the fridge.

Today would be pasta from Le Marion. Jean loved the diced mushrooms. Karma liked the bowtie pasta.

She eyed the cast on his left leg, the heel of which rested on his right knee. Five weeks from now, that cast would be removed along with the "doctor's orders" that enforced a full-time caretaker at Marble Estates. Karma would be free to quit, assuming Levi didn't fire her first. Though she was eager to start music school in August, she would miss her midnight companion and his brooding glances. Even now, she smiled at the way he held his tea cup by the rim.

"What?" Levi said, noticing her staring. Karma blinked her eyes back into focus.

"Why are you suddenly out of the library?"

He answered without a wayward glance from the paper. "You sound as if I've shat in the sink. I'm allowed to read on my own couch."

"Fair point." Karma said. "Then I suppose you won't mind if I join you? I've got a recital to prepare for."

Levi soundlessly swept his hand as an invitation.

Karma lowered onto the cushion opposite him, a curled up Jean between them. For a few minutes, it was quiet. Levi read while Karma dappled notes on blank sheet music, forehead creased in concentration. The minutes stretched with the coffee table's shadow until beside her, Levi whipped a crease out of the newspaper. Karma's eye caught the headline.

"I've heard about that," she said.

She hadn't expected him to look away from the newspaper, AKA his means of deflecting social interaction. But here he was, sitting out in the open, allowing her to sit beside him, and, now, meeting her eye. Again she wondered what had changed within him.

"The reunion," she clarified. "People seem to be really eager for one. You can't blame them for wanting to see the Scouts all friendly again." She paused. "Me included."

The string connecting their eyes snapped.

Instead of answering, Levi lowered his gaze. But not to the newspaper, to her sheet music. Those scarred eyes followed the scrawled melody as if he could hear it in his head the same way she could. When his eyes caught the title of the song that would complete her story, "To the Rescue," a smile flickered across his lips. It was as quick as a butterfly wing, as if she'd titled the song, "To my Asshole Boss."

Then, remembering her comment or perhaps in his determination to stay unreadable, Levi's mouth flattened. He flipped the newspaper and averted his attention to the business section. "Keep poking around and I'm going back to the library."

The memory of Levi's gaze burned the spot on her lap where the sheet music rested. The pages crinkled under her tightened thumbs. "Please don't."

"You're always free to join me."

"Levi, that room is so depressing. There aren't even windows. I don't exactly feel welcome there." She was quick to add, "No offense."

"I'm sure the piano fiasco didn't help." Levi's eyes were unfocused on Jean this time. Karma wondered if the reminder of her cat's name was what caused his lips to droop. Then, as if to steer the conversation from his grievances, Levi added, "The movie offer still stands. There's a showing this weekend."

Karma's cheeks colored. She didn't think he remembered. Last night, against the glow of the oven's digital clock, the invitation had almost seemed like an empty gesture, a peace offering. But he'd meant it. He was serious about leaving the penthouse again. For her.

Now was her chance to ask, Like a date? It was so absurd. The idea of her boss having any romantic interest in her. So instead of rolling off her tongue, the words stuck to the roof of her mouth. The incriminating question slithered down her throat and she went with the safe response. "I'll never say no to a movie. Not if there's live music involved."

"Figures." His lips kicked up. Then his attention was drawn briefly to Jean's twitching whiskers, and Karma stole the opportunity to admire him. Her eyes were especially attracted to that jagged bolt cutting uninterrupted through his eyelid and the hard set of his mouth. Her mind was a teeter totter, alternating between fantasies of touching that scar with her fingertips and tracing it with her lips. That scar was a reminder of all of her unanswered questions about his past. About the friends that witnessed his injuries and have since abandoned him. The friends smiling behind water-stained glass at the bottom of her tote bag.

The lips fantasy was heavier when he looked up and caught her staring for the second time that morning.

"What?" he said again.

Her voice lowered, as if afraid the cat might overhear. "Can you really blame me for being curious?"

Levi didn't need a reminder about their previous conversation. The word "Scout reunion" rested beside his right thumb. "Look," he said with finality. "Something happened. They hate me. That's all you need to know."

"But you don't hate them." Karma had enough confidence in this point to say it like a fact. Levi's silence confirmed it. "They can forgive you, Levi. I did."

"If they were anything like you, then I could almost believe it. But Jean's a stubborn asshole, Connie's a shithead, and the rest of them can't be bothered."

"Would you be open to trying?" Karma said. At this point, Levi didn't even pretend to find the newspaper interesting. It rested in his lap like a cloth napkin. "I could call everyone up—cook up a roast—we could discuss whatever happened over a nice dinner. I'm sure they'd be civil."

Levi chewed on her offer. She watched his jaw flex, certain he was thinking of a way to shut her down. "Why do you care so much?" This surprised her much more than a blatant insult could have. It also broke her heart, the idea that he should doubt any and every source of affection.

Karma's brows met. "Why should it surprise you that someone cares?"

Levi studied her, and she wondered if his mind was teeter tottering as well. Fantasies of touching and kissing her faint smile lines crashing back and forth to either side of his head. She might have imagined his gaze snagging on her lips.

"I see," he said, reaching a conclusion. "It comes with the title. Caretaker."

Karma put down her pencil. "You don't look at me as just a caretaker. Not at this point."

Levi frowned. "What are you if not my caretaker?"

"Your friend," she said as if it were the most natural and obvious thing in the world. Then she added with mischief, "Your friend that you pay."

"Then what use do I have for a Scout reunion? I don't need any more friends."

"Think of it like a publicity stunt," Karma said. "That could look good for your company."

As she'd hoped, Levi's eyes sharpened at the phrase "publicity stunt." But she hadn't just captured his interest, she'd struck him with an idea. She sat up straighter.

"What—?"

Jean scurried into Levi's lap at the sound of pounding. Karma's head whirled toward the front door. For a split second, she grinned, thinking that maybe this Scout reunion was about to happen without her meddling. But Levi's face was white.

"Aren't you gonna answer that?" Karma said.

"Ignore him." Levi's lips barely moved. "He'll get the hint."

Karma lowered her voice to match his. "Who?"

"Steve Bark."

That wasn't the name Karma expected, though she wasn't sure what her expectations had been. The knock came a second time. Then a third. Each rap of thick knuckle had more urgency than the last.

"Mr. Ackerman, you can't hide." The voice reminded Karma of Levi's garbage disposal when her fork had slipped inside. Gurgling, but deep and powerful.

She gave Levi intense eyes that said, Explain yourself or I'm opening the door.

Levi cursed. He unfolded his wheelchair that had been perched against the coffee table and hissed what Karma understood to be instructions. "I can't speak with him. I'm incapacitated. Whatever you do, don't let him inside." With Jean trembling in his lap, Levi wheeled down the corridor.

Karma straightened her sheet music and set it on the cushion. Something was squeezing her stomach, telling her it was crucial that she followed Levi's instructions exactly.

She cracked the door an inch, just enough to poke her nose through. She flinched at the punch of high-end cologne and dry-cleaned linen. The man on the other side was wider than the doorframe. He could floss his teeth with her.

"Can I help you?" Karma spoke with plastic sweetness and kept her weight pressed against the knob.

Steve Bark's dinner plate hands were clasped in front of a distended belly. Wealth oozed out of his pores from the thread count of his suit coat down to the polish of his loafers. Whatever business he had with Levi involved money—that much she was certain.

Like most New Marleyans, Steve Bark's teeth were unnaturally straight and white and his lips were overly plump. Unlike most New Marleyans, the shape of his head was oblong and accentuated by a lack of hair. He wore his egg-shaped head proudly, as if he polished that too.

"He hired a prop. How riveting," Steve Bark said, making Karma feel like a welcome mat. His eyes scrutinized past her into the penthouse. Karma's jaw flexed at the word "prop," though it was partly true.

"Actually, I'm his caretaker." The artificial sweetness in her tone was replaced with a bite.

"One in the same." Steve Bark pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed his shiny forehead. "Now, bring him to the door. I'm not a patient man."

"You can't speak with him—he's incapacitated." The last word felt awkward and formal, but Karma didn't waver.

Steve Bark was not accustomed to rejection. His meaty neck straightened like she'd spit in his eye. Karma watched as the shock dissolved into poised irritation. He finally looked at her and bent down to her level. "This charade has wasted enough of my time. He's perfectly mobile. Bring him."

"I don't know where you got that idea from. He has a full-time caretaker."

"Enlighten me. What is it you do?"

Karma knew better than to tell the truth. That she didn't do anything at all. It didn't help that she'd chosen today to dress casually. Something about this man reeked of sinister motives. Her tone came out steady. "I help Mr. Ackerman with all activities of daily living. Ambulating, showering—a better question would be what don't I do?"

"If that's true, he's committed." Steve Bark tucked away the cloth. "Perhaps he broke his leg after all." The way he said it seemed accusatory. As if Levi broke his leg on purpose.

"I drove him to the hospital myself. Frankly, I don't see why it concerns you."

"You're correct. My business does not concern you." Steve Bark's block-shaped body scooted closer. His left loafer peeked into the penthouse, wedged in the frame. Karma was ready to slam the door with her weight if he moved another inch. "Mr. Ackerman is a fool if he thinks he can evade the press."

"Yes, because the Marley Today is notorious for telling the truth."

Steve Bark straightened his cufflinks, resteeling his composure. "Very well. He's clearly still shying away from the public eye. I'll disregard the rumors of his appearance for now. But the leg can't stay broken forever. Save me the trouble of checking in, and tell me when I can expect his recovery."

Karma tried to lie, but the truth burst from her chest like a cough. "Five weeks."

"Five weeks."

Steve Bark left without ceremony. Karma closed the front door, her pulse shuddering to her fingertips like she'd run up all 50 flights of stairs. She caught her breath before entering the library.

"He's gone," Karma said, stepping in just as Levi was hanging up the desk phone.

"Shit." Levi's head drooped back, exposing his throat. Karma had never seen him look anything but stoic. Now he was vulnerable.

Her hip pressed against his desk. "What an unpleasant man. I barely managed to shrug him off."

"Knowing Bark, he didn't leave empty-handed." Levi met her eyes, making a confession unavoidable.

"He's…coming back in five weeks."

"Shit."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't lie. But why are you pretending to be incapacitated? What does he want with you?" Karma watched his throat move as he spoke.

"He wants my company."

"Then tell him no."

Levi reeled his neck forward to give Karma an expression that told her just how little she understood about what was going on. It was more soft than severe. Then he pulled out his wallet and passed her a sleek black card. "Go replace whatever got damaged by the wind."

"You want your caretaker spotted out and about? Won't that just help their narrative?"

"As of now, the media doesn't know who you are."

As of now? Karma waited for those words to make sense, but she couldn't imagine a scenario in which she was anything more to the public eye than Old Marley scum. The way he said it almost seemed like he had a plan.

"Hurry," Levi said. "Yelena's here."

Karma took the debit card and backed out of the library, wishing Levi would just tell her what she didn't understand instead of looking at her like he pitied her naivety. She passed Yelena in the living room and felt like an uninvited fruit fly with the way her greeting was swatted back at her.

At the front door, Karma paused. She heard Yelena enter the library, but there was no muffled conversation. They were waiting for her to leave. Without hesitating, Karma opened and closed the front door loudly and tiptoed back to the library to press an ear against the door.

"—rather break my other leg." It was Levi. Karma could picture him plucking lint off his sleeve, infuriating Yelena with his composure.

"Like anyone would buy that trick a second time." Yelena was probably drumming her buffed fingernails against her hip. "The shareholders are getting impatient. Bark won't be the last. You know what we have to—"

"You know my condition."

"Mr. Ackerman, it would be six months maximum."

"They'd expect an engagement."

"Certainly not. It's just enough for the tabloids to get their fill. Then you can continue your solitude—I won't even enforce a caretaker. There'd be no more need."

"I told you. Anyone but her."

Karma leaned closer. Her?

"No one else would be believable. You never leave this damn place." Yelena sharpened the words to stakes.

"Not by choice."

"Your choices are what got us into this. I hope that recital was worth it."

Karma flattened her ear against the wood until it ached. Was it worth it?

But Yelena's voice came instead, preceded by a disgusted gasp. "Don't tell me you let that thing on the furniture?"

"He has a name."

Something tapped at the door from the inside.

"That's mahogany!"

Footsteps clipped closer. The curious tapping on the door turned into excited scratching. Karma hissed at Jean to be quiet.

"Just let him out. Probably has to piss."

The knob twitched and Karma bolted for the front door, praying Yelena hadn't glimpsed her braid or a flash of her pink jumpsuit. Panting in the walkway, Karma waited for any sign of her discovery.

"—cat needs to be declawed."

"Shut it, beardface."

She sighed and pressed the elevator button. Anyone but her. Who else could he have meant but Karma? The only other women in his life were Yelena and Missy, the bi-weekly cleaner in her mid-sixties. Levi's only reservation to Yelena's fake romance ploy was her, his Old Marley caretaker.

The movie wasn't a date after all. All of those late-night conversations meant nothing. He was only keeping her around to maintain some incapacitated facade—he may have even broken his leg for that same reason. She wasn't special for lasting this long. She felt so stupid.

The elevator opened to the lobby. Pushing through the rotating glass door, Karma took out her phone and called Sage.

"Sorry, Karms. I'm super busy." Sage's voice was drowned in the sound of jacuzzi jets.

"That's too bad. I have his debit card—"

Water sloshed and a towel shuffled. "I'll meet you there."

New Marley used to make Karma nervous, but today it paid her no mind. Something as mundane as name brand clothes made the shining city treat her like their own. Not one dirty glare or cigarette butt as she plodded down Main Street.

After a half hour of kicking her heels in front of the boutique storefront, Sage's stilettos clipped down the sidewalk. Karma must have been too distracted at last night's recital to notice Sage's obvious spray tan and whitened teeth. Her hair was glossier too and she was wearing three times her usual amount of jewelry.

"Oh my god, Karms—Wickham Moriano!"

Karma blinked. So much was unraveling with Levi and Yelena and Ackerman Enterprises that there wasn't room to digest Wickham Moriano and the invitation to be his opener.

Once Sage realized that the condom she'd gifted wound up in the trash, the subject lost all interest. For once, Karma was grateful for that narrow attention span. She'd much rather nod and chime an occasional "Oh my god" than talk about the events of the past hour.

"—wine tasting is amazing, seriously. And I got a gig modeling makeup for N freaking M! No thanks to you, might I add. Jack's got all the connections—"

That name triggered something in Karma. The shopping cart came to a halt in the middle of an aisle displaying shelves of vanilla and pumpkin candles. She remembered what Jack had said at the bar all those weeks ago: Don't get involved. Those guys never let you live anything down.

"Karma?"

What did he mean by that? How did Jack know Levi?

"Sage, where were you when I called?"

"I told you, I've been staying at Jack's place—I didn't want to be in that stuffy apartment all by myself. You should've seen Greg's face when I showed up to Vinny's in a convertible—"

"Jack's pretty well off then? A place in New Marley, a sports car, a jacuzzi?"

"Three sports cars. Those war hero stipends are very generous." Sage raised the Slay Bans in her hair for emphasis.

Karma pushed the cart toward the check out. Sage had crammed it full of golden cutlery, crystal trinkets, canvas paintings, and a shelf's worth of women's shoes. The items rolled on a conveyor. Every ding of the price gun ricocheted in Karma's skull.

War hero stipends? No way the government is that generous, even to Titan War veterans.

"—cash or card, ma'am?"

"Oh." Karma fumbled for the card and tapped it against the keypad.

Why did she get the feeling that Jack's money was connected to Levi? Was this why the war heroes refused to see each other? Monetary disputes—?

"Ma'am?"

There were red letters on the screen. Declined. She must have used her own card by mistake. Karma double checked the card before tapping it again. Declined. Maybe the tap function was being touchy. She inserted the chip. Declined. Swipe. Declined. Swipe. Declined.

No way he gave her a maxed out credit card. Karma scanned the firm rectangle of metal and confirmed that it was a debit card, directly connected to his account. It would only decline if there weren't sufficient funds.

"I think your machine is busted?" Karma said to the impatient worker.

"If you can't pay, please make way for the next customers."

"But…"

Karma frowned at the card in her palm. Beside her, Sage was giggling. It was that greedy giggle reserved for the occasions she came in possession of a rare piece of gossip. The giggle morphed into a delighted cackle—something this juicy wouldn't stay secret for long.

Swipe. Declined. Karma's lips parted.

That's why the shareholders were panicking. Ackerman Enterprises was bankrupt.