WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

47. Present from the Paths - Levi x Petra 2

"We're already on the roof and it's probably safer to stay above ground level with these Titans still running around, so—" Levi explained curtly as he pulled out his trusty hunting knife and slid it around the window frame to fiddle with Petra's second-story bedroom window latch.

"What are you doing, Captain?" Eld exclaimed. "You're seriously breaking into your girlfriend's room?"

"Through the window?" Oruo added, just as taken aback.

Levi lifted the latch from outside the window with a "click", and he turned to glare at them.

"Technically, she's my wife."

Oruo cleared his throat pointedly. "And your 'wife' didn't give you a key to the front door?"

Levi shot Oruo a withering glare, prompting another (but furtive and sheepish) throat-clearing from the latter. Eld shook his head at both of them, disinvesting himself from the outcome.

Gunther sighed. "This is an emergency. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Exactly," Levi said. "You guys wait out here; I'll be back." He swung the window out and open, took a peek inside to confirm that it was safe to go in, and slithered in feet-first, landing on the hardwood floor with a dull thud underfoot.

When he knelt by the side of the bed to peek under the bedskirt, Petra's gear case was there, haphazardly shoved into place. He unbuckled the fasteners to find it completely empty, so he sighed and stood back up, then headed over to her closet to check there. No gas canisters there. He pivoted in the spot to survey her whole room one final time: the only notable thing out of place was a half-drunk cup of tea on a saucer on her desk, next to a barely-written letter to him:

Dear Levi,

I just saw you all off on the 56th Expedition this morning, and I figured I'd write. I'm hoping and praying that everything goes well, and that we don't lose any soldiers. Although I know that's just a naïve, impossible hope, it's all any of us can hope for. It's hard not knowing when I'll see you again, but just know that I

He felt the abrupt end to her sentence as a hollow ringing in his head when the sound of her voice reading out the words suddenly fell silent. He reached out and felt the teacup with his fingers; he could tell that it had gone entirely cold. And he sighed again, feeling loathe to waste the tea, cold though it was, so he lifted the cup by its rim and quickly drank the rest. Black tea—just the pick-me-up he realized he had needed all along, as he felt his energy boost within moments of having drunk it. His lips had just touched the rim where Petra's lips had been before…. This was the closest he was going to get to a kiss at a time like this. And his own lips upturned at the corners into a smirk of nostalgia as he exhaled in a tiny puff through his nostrils at the thought of her, and of them locking lips in his own dimly lit bedroom while a half-drunk cup of tea sat forgotten on his desk….

"Not the gift I was expecting, Petra, but… thanks," he said aloud to the empty room. He exited the room and quietly entered the rest of the rooms in the house, and surely enough, they had left in a relative hurry with no bloodshed to be seen.

"About time, Captain," Oruo commented as Levi slid himself back out the window and swung it shut behind him. "We were starting to wonder if you ran into her in there and forgot all about us, you know…."

"Shut up," Levi grunted. "Nobody's home and her gear case is empty. So let's move out and put down some more of those freaks until we can make it past the inner gate to check for the evacuees."

Gunther sighed to himself as he readied himself to pursue the rest of the squad going ahead of him.

"Well, it was worth a try…."

Levi hung perched on the inner side of Wall Rose as his squad stood atop the Wall, convened in a strategy meeting amongst themselves: getting their horses back inside Wall Rose since the gate now had a giant rock blocking the hole. Killing the Titans now stuck in Trost. The topics blended and blurred as they floated in one ear and out the other. Levi scanned the crowd until he caught a glimpse of a redhead, a blond, and a strawberry blonde that would stand out no matter where they went. They turned their heads as he swooped down in front of them, and as Levi and Petra locked eyes and their eyelids quivered with mutual recognition, they felt their inner worlds turn right-side up again.

She opened her arms for a hug, and he gratefully melted into her arms, letting his head hang over her shoulder as she squeezed him close, as tightly as she could. As he embraced her back, his green cloak wrapped around them like bat wings to shield them from the coming night. He took a deep, shaky breath and breathed it out slowly into her hair, and she, too, shuddered with the wave of relief that flooded over them.

"You came back," Petra murmured in his ear. "You survived." She gazed up past him to regard the tiny silhouettes of the rest of his squad atop the Wall, so easily recognizable to her now: Eld, Gunther, and Oruo. And she thought she could just make out the three of them waving down at the two of them….

"You did, too," he nodded into the side of her neck.

A couple of people in the crowd next to them sighed audibly at the sight and mused aloud, "How romantic" and "Gotta love a man in uniform…."

After what felt like a good long while to them, they finally loosened their embrace to take each other in properly. Petra traced her thumbs over the backs of his hands and asked, "So much blood on you…. What happened out there?"

He looked her in the eyes with a matter-of-fact gaze. "Same as always: people died."

Levi swiveled his head to notice Petra's parents standing there, sighing with nostalgia at the romantic sight.

"Well, Captain," Mr. Ral said, "you missed the show. This wee little lady here lifted up the Boss of the Reeves Company and body-slammed him down like it was nothing!"

Mrs. Ral added, "I know the doctor told me not to lift heavy weights when I was pregnant, but you know how she gets when she gets worked up."

Mr. Ral chuckled sheepishly while scratching the back of his head. "Won't listen to anyone. So impetuous, this girl…."

"Look," Petra huffed. "Boss Reeves was willing to let us all die so he could save his inventory first; he blocked the inner gate with his wagonload of stuff. So I didn't let him." She paused. "Or more like, I started it, and a Cadet girl showed up and finished it."

Levi turned to Petra with a glowering dark tint to his eyes and a sharp edge to his voice: "Can I have a word? Privately?"

She sighed through pursed lips and turned to follow him to a pocket of the crowd away from her parents: some people squatted or sat on the ground, while others remained standing. Petra felt their eyes on her and Levi, but he did not seem to care, focused instead on glaring expectantly at her for some sort of explanation….

Petra crossed her arms to mirror him and declared, unrepentant, "Like my father said: it was nothing. I have no idea why, but somehow that man felt light as a feather when I grabbed him by the wrist. So… it was fine."

Levi raised an eyebrow.

"He felt… unnaturally light. Either he's made of steam like a Titan, or I… got a lot stronger somehow…."

His expression shifted, and his brow furrowed the slightest bit as he turned internally to ponder something.

"Something like that happened to me, too, when I was still a kid. All of a sudden, any kind of physical labor was easy. And I could run faster and longer—and jump higher and farther—than anyone else I knew…."

"Huh," she mumbled, dipping her head to consider this. "I wonder what that's about…."

Levi's gaze flitted to the side to catch Mrs. Ral approaching him. When she was close enough to touch shoulders with him, she surreptitiously produced a shiny red apple from her bundled apron in front of her.

"Shh, just take it," she urged him in a half-whisper. "Before I go share the rest with people."

He gave her a brief nod and pocketed it in his cloak. Mrs. Ral gave him a motherly smile and wandered off into the crowd, now opening her apron to reveal the rest of her hoard to the public. He noted that she specifically walked up to parents with young children in tow to offer them an apple, and before he knew it, she had given them all away.

A hopeful look came over Petra's face, and she took Levi's hand in hers to walk them back towards her father, while her mother trailed behind them, wringing her hands. He gave her and Levi a grim smile and crossed his arms to retake his role as a silent observer of them.

Petra then rapped her knuckles on her snap blade sheaths strapped to her bare thighs, holding only one pair left.

Levi growled with a renewed harshness in his voice, "So I heard you gave all your gas and blades to some brat who might not even make it to sundown."

She glared at him. "I guess you ran into her, then. She was a fresh grad, still in her Cadet uniform, but she was exceptional enough for them to put her in the Rear Guard with the most elite Garrison soldiers. And she took down an Abnormal Titan that was too fast for everyone else." She glanced down at her blade sheaths, regarding the one last pair in them. "But she dulled her blades to do it. So I helped her out."

"Tch," Levi grumbled in begrudging respect.

"Everyone burns through fuel too fast when they're new," she continued. And she grinned at him with a hint of playfulness now. "You did, too, when you first joined the Scouts. According to Hange."

"Unbelievable," he grumbled. "All of you need to stop gossiping about me behind my back."

"Anyway," she said pointedly, "here: I have one pair left for you."

She pulled out the two snap blades and passed them over to him. As he racked them in his own sheaths, she let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Sometimes, you know… when you throw your blades at Titans, I wonder whether it's really necessary or whether you're just trying to look cool, but... just use them wisely, okay?"

Levi raised an eyebrow at her criticism of his fighting style (which he admitted could be flamboyant at times, but always effective). But regardless, he was silently appreciative of the extra blades.

"Tch," he scoffed as he often did. "I always do."

She nodded at him with a glimmer of continued amusement—and perhaps even fondness—in her eyes. "Now go!"

He turned to leave, then paused and swung his head to look at her one last time over his shoulder.

"That pregnancy book said not to drink too much black tea," he said simply. "It might be too much stimulation for the baby."

Petra frowned to herself as she watched him shoot back up the side of the Wall with his wires, swinging himself over the edge to land on his bent legs, and returning to the side of the silhouettes of Eld, Gunther, and Oruo as the twilight rays of sunshine illuminated them from behind. And as they fell in a line behind Levi and began to run along the top of the Wall, she wondered why he was advising her about tea right now, of all times.

But after she, her parents, and the other evacuees got through a night of sleeping on scratchy blankets lining the cramped floor in a community center and waited through a day of the barrage of cannon fire cleaning up the rest of the Titans from Trost, and she finally made it back to her house and her little bedroom upstairs, she saw her empty teacup on her desk and her window unlatched, and she understood. She sighed as she imagined Levi having been there just two evenings ago, surveying her room for her gear case and failing to find it, but noticing the half-drunk tea and feeling guilty about the waste, and chugging it before checking the rest of the house and escaping out through her bedroom window in a hurry. Somehow, despite him having clearly trespassed, the thought of it brought comfort to her heart and a peaceful smile to her lips. A husband-on-paper who showed up in an emergency to a deserted house, drinking her tea and intending to help himself to her equipment… and she giggled to herself at that idea, too. Feeling inclined to forgive more easily than she should—maybe this was also what love was….

That night, after the surviving Scouts had brought their horses around to a section of the main Wall Rose and over the Wall into safety once again, Levi dug Mrs. Ral's apple out of his pocket, eliciting a whinny of eagerness from his horse.

"Don't get too fat, now," he scolded her in advance, offering her the apple in his open palm. "Or else I'll just have to ride you even harder later."

She scoffed, letting her lips blow a raspberry; the wind from her mouth made the leaf on the apple stem flutter. And she pried her jaws open wide and took a hearty bite with her strong front teeth, rending the dusky red skin from the white flesh beneath it.

"See there, Kuchel," he told her, stroking her mane with his hand as she tilted her head to crunch the apple flesh in her teeth. "You did well today; I promised I'd make it up to you. And… I always keep my promises."

He paused to consider whether he had actually said anything to her out loud, or whether he had merely thought the words "I'll make it up to you" in his head while he had been riding, focusing only on his own feeling of urgency at the time.

"You heard me, didn't you?" he asked her. "Whether or not I said it…."

And he could have sworn that Kuchel nodded at him just before opening her jaws for another hearty bite of the apple in his hand.

When he spent time with his horse named after his late mother, his thoughts tended to wander over to his own mother. This time, those thoughts of his own mother blended with thoughts of other mothers on his mind: Petra's mother, pragmatic, gentle, and feisty in equal measures; and Petra herself, a mother in her own right since that fateful night he made her one. He wished that his own mother had been around longer like Petra's mother was for her. And he began to wonder what kind of mother he foresaw Petra becoming. Based on how well she cared for everyone in her life—a mother at heart even to those she had not birthed—he was certain that however the details played out, she would undoubtedly be the best example possible.

But what about him? What kind of father could he possibly be, given that he had never had a father of his own to look to as an example? Could he manage to live up to the greatness she saw in him, when he felt like a clueless idiot stumbling without so much as a lantern to guide his way?

I have that book, now, though, he reminded himself, nodding slowly to himself. She wanted me to feel less lost, too. And she has the same one she got for herself… we're in this together. She's never been a parent, either. Even though she already knows how to act like one. But I can learn…. I'm sure I will…. I have to.

Kuchel the horse gave a mighty gulp and cleared her throat, signaling to him that she was already done. Levi wiggled his juice-coated fingers and let the forgotten apple seeds slip through them and land upon the grassy ground. He cast his gaze upward, through the midnight shadow of the Wall in which they stood, and he gave a silent greeting to the brilliant pinprick stars in the inky darkness overhead. At daybreak, they would climb the Wall into Trost again, picking off Titans one by one until they had hunted down every last one. But as exhausting as it would probably be, and with no guarantees of what was to come after that, he knew there was no use in dwelling on the unknowable future. There was only this present moment, with his trusty horse, his wife and unborn child sleeping safe and sound inside the Walls, and the stars lighting up the night.

Chapter 15: Survivors

Summary:

Petra and Levi weather devastating losses and seek solace in the ordinary joys of being human.

Notes:

Happy Veteran's Day in the US (or Veteran's Day Weekend, more accurately). I think it's fitting to be publishing another chapter of this fic at this time, like how I published something for Memorial Day. It's crazy to think how that felt like forever ago, but it wasn't technically that many chapters ago….

Anyway, I'm super excited to share this chapter with you! It's going down as another one of my favorites for sure, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all so very much again for reading and for your kudos, comments, and overall support.

Chapter Text

Soundtrack Recommendations:

"nc17" – Nejira Music

"von" – Yoko Kanno feat. Arnor Dan (Zankyou no Terror OST)

"So ist est immer (Instrumental)" – Hiroyuki Sawano (Attack on Titan OST)

As Erwin and Levi descended the stairwell under the military courthouse, heading underground to visit the young Titan cadet, the torches mounted on the walls cast intermittent glows upon their faces as they passed.

"It'll work out with the numbers, anyway, if we do decide to take this boy in," Erwin concluded. "Petra goes out, and Eren goes in…."

One less person to reel him in, Levi thought to himself. But….

"We'll make it work," Levi concluded. "We always do."

Erwin continued walking ahead of Levi, not bothering to even glance at him. "Of course you will. Now you can take responsibility for the state your squad is in."

And Erwin turned to look upon him now with disappointment in his eyes, as a disgraced father would look upon a wayward son to be disowned. Levi clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles tightening.

"Understood."

And so, this boy Eren came to be under Levi's command. There were so many times when Levi was with Eren that he wished that Petra were there. She always seemed to know what other people were thinking. And she always knew just what to say to cheer somebody up, and Eren was a mopey, introspective teenage boy who needed plenty of cheering up. They had just barely finished the 56th Expedition and were moving on to the 57th, and with his squad still acutely feeling Petra's absence—missing her strengths in teamwork and sociability outside of battle, not to mention her agility and precision in battle—every one of them could be caught brooding and lapsing into moments of solitude in the middle of teatimes or meals together. It was as if, with their main conversation maker now gone, the rest of them had splintered off into pairs, no longer uniting the entire group with common topics. And funnily enough, it was almost always Levi who no longer got roped into speaking in the group. Eld would sometimes add in a "Right, Captain?" at the end of something he said, whereas Oruo was too busy bragging and Gunther was too busy brooding to involve their taciturn Captain. He understood the distance he had to maintain between himself and his subordinates, and they made minimal effort to involve him in their side conversations now. Maybe they had already given up on extracting much of anything personal from him. Maybe they were still, always and forevermore, intimidated by him in a way that Petra hadn't been for a long time.

And in the end, it all made him miss her even more—his other half who knew just how to smooth him over. When he looked at Eren and saw the apprehension in his eyes and heard the tremor of hesitation in his voice, Levi wished that he could somehow manage to be less intimidating to him. But maybe in the end, none of that would matter. The boy would learn, grow up, and gain more confidence, the way that he once had. And it was Levi's philosophy that things like these could only truly be learned by going through them oneself—just like he and Petra were learning every day what true devotion was, to each other and to their baby.

At the Jinn's house, it was a day full of housework as usual: with the laundry done yesterday, today was for grocery shopping, sweeping, dusting, and general tidying up. Eld's girlfriend was there, helping his parents by spot-sweeping the living room floor with a dustpan so they could spare their own backs in their advancing age. Mrs. Jinn was determinedly absorbed in preparing dinner in the kitchen, and Mr. Jinn was similarly busying himself with refilling the firewood bin next to her. Anything to keep from having to think too hard about their son. Today was the day after the 57th Survey Corps Expedition had returned to Calaneth District, and the Scouts had surely returned to Trost by now, bearing news around the city that nobody wanted to hear.

A brave knock at the door struck a flash of momentary terror into the young woman's heart—who was on the other side? Would it be Eld? Or another soldier on his behalf, expressing condolences and returning possessions? She took a deep breath, clapped the dust from her hands, and opened the door to face the truth.

Another young woman with chin-length strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes stood before her, with a wicker picnic basket slung around her forearm. She gave a friendly smile as their eyes met.

"Astrid," the woman said. "Good afternoon…."

"Oh." Astrid tilted her head forward to scrutinize the visitor out of the top of her vision. "Aren't you… Petra? From Eld's squad?"

Petra nodded soberly.

"The Survey Corps got back yesterday and they're making the rounds today."

"Yes," Astrid sighed. "After expeditions, we'd usually have gotten a letter from Eld by now…. But the casualty list isn't out yet, either. So I don't know what to think."

Petra shook her head. "No, they wait to release that list until after they bring the personal effects home to their families."

Astrid narrowed her clear, pale blue eyes. "Oh. I see…." And she blinked and refocused her gaze. "But why did you think to visit us? I'm surprised you still remember me…."

Petra hung her head low. "Well…. No one ever knows how an expedition will turn out. I was home alone today, getting worried…. And I figured you all might be able to use some company, too. To keep your mind off things."

Another woman's voice from another room called out, "Who is that, Astrid?"

Astrid turned her head to shout back at her, "It's Petra! One of Eld's squadmates!"

The voice drew closer, asking, "You mean the one his Captain married?"

"Yes, that's her," Astrid sighed. A dirty blonde, middle-aged woman with a nest of short, messy hair popped her head out from behind the door frame. "This is Mrs. Jinn, Eld's mother," Astrid explained.

"Of course," Petra said. "Pleasure to finally meet you, ma'am."

"Come on in," Mrs. Jinn said with a warm smile. "Eld has been talking a lot about you and Captain Levi!"

Petra grinned sheepishly. "Has he, now?"

"Goodness, yes! You two are the talk of the town amongst the soldiers, you know."

Astrid shook her head slowly in resignation.

"Oh boy," Petra mumbled, feeling her cheeks start to grow warm. Her feet moved her body forward over the threshold of the front door, and her eyes quickly surveyed the interiors of the wooden-walled rooms of the humble town house, built much like her own.

"I'm not sure if you were in the middle of housework, but—" she extended her forearm to show a wicker basket slung around it. "I have some goodies to share, if you'd like to rest a bit."

Mrs. Jinn's eyes lit up, and Astrid also cracked an eager smile through her reserved countenance.

At the kitchen table, Petra opened her basket to reveal her gifts: freshly baked cookies (each a rounded, bite-sized coin baked to a light golden brown), a canister of lavender tea to share, and a set of four tiny teacups and saucers.

"Teatime!" Astrid gushed, becoming more animated now. "Let's boil some tea, Mrs. Jinn."

After boiling some water and pouring it out into their teacups, Mrs. Jinn grabbed a couple of cookies from the basket, slipped them onto the edge of her saucer, and started to migrate off to the master bedroom.

"You girls talk," she told them. "I'm going to see if I can make my husband grow a sweet tooth, so I can have an excuse to bake cookies myself more often…."

Petra rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Baking is a bit of a luxury, though, I'll admit…."

"You have a Captain's salary to spend on sugar now, don't you?" Astrid pointed out with a hint of envy in her voice.

Petra sighed. "I guess that sure did help…."

Astrid took a sip of the lavender tea and nodded appreciatively at the taste. "You know that old tavern near downtown? 'Farmer's Folly Tavern and Inn'?"

"Oh…. That's right, some of my comrades did mention getting a beer there a few years ago…."

"Well, things have changed. It's changing to a soldier theme now," Astrid chuckled. "They've been getting a lot more popular ever since."

"Gee, well, it does make sense," Petra mused. "Trost is full of soldiers. My parents are kind of farmers, but we don't have much land to work with…."

She pursed her lips. "No one has much land here. Do your parents make a living just on what they grow?" And she popped a cookie in her mouth, disintegrating it between her teeth with a muffled crunch.

Petra sighed. "They do have to import a bit from other family farms in Wall Rose to resell here, but they can at least feed themselves on what they grow at home."

Astrid blew on her tea and took another tiny sip. "I'm impressed that the Reeves Company hasn't gobbled them up yet."

Petra flared her nostrils in annoyance. "Ugh. Boss Reeves had better not come knocking anytime soon. At any rate, I doubt wholesalers like them can grow blue roses," she sniffed.

Astrid cracked a shy smile. "I'm glad you guys are still alive. I always liked your apples. Eld's parents, too."

And Petra gave a mysterious smile of her own. "There's something special about family-grown food, isn't there?"

She gazed for a long moment into the dregs of her tea, then drank the rest in one sustained sip.

"So, Petra: what's it like, being pregnant?"

Petra gave a contented smile. "So far… it's all right."

Astrid started to run her fingertip along the rim of her saucer. "Are you scared?"

Petra took a moment to consider before replying, "Maybe a little. But only sometimes…." She glanced over at Astrid's hand, still absentmindedly tracing the outlines of her saucer. "Is this what you always feel after an expedition? Scared? Anxious?"

Astrid's expression grew serious again as she made eye contact with Petra again. "It's funny: I always thought that Survey Corps women like you would be different from the rest of us somehow. But you're just like me: worried about your man."

"What do you mean? I'm a human being, too, just like you…."

"Back when I met all of you in the squad, I thought to myself that you had to be a different kind of woman, to be able to stand toe-to-toe with the men. I know I probably couldn't do half the things you've done…."

Petra chuckled sheepishly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, if we didn't have this war, none of us would have to fight at all. Not even Eld… or Captain Levi…."

"Isn't it funny, how Eld and I have been together for years, but he hasn't come around to proposing yet." She took a long pause to consider things. "But ever since you and the Captain got together, he seems to have become more, well, serious about our relationship."

Petra blinked once and tilted her head to one side. "Oh really? How so?"

"Talking about the future—he always had a hard time doing that. But now he's been the one bringing up marriage. Children. Where do we go from here."

Petra smiled slightly. "I guess we started something."

Astrid sighed a little, then grew even more somber. "But you know… I'm thinking that maybe the old him was right. Maybe there is no future to plan for after all. And all we have is now, to make whatever we can of the present."

"I guess…" Petra sighed as well. She gazed across the table at her companion, leaning her elbows on the table and clasping her hands together in front of her chin.

"I hope your man survives all this." Her eyes wandered over to the kitchen window, letting her gaze vaguely drift along at the world outside. A stormy, troubled countenance overcame her as her lips pursed tightly.

"I hope yours does, too," Petra said quietly.

A sudden, sharp knocking at the door snapped both women out of their ruminations, and Astrid turned back to Petra with a wild, desperate look in her widened eyes.

"Would you rather I answered?" Petra offered weakly. She knew that the impending, inauspicious news was already written all over her face, and all her good intentions to commiserate with them suddenly felt hopelessly inadequate.

"No," Astrid insisted.

When Astrid answered it, however, all pretense of stoicism dissolved into a gasp of disbelief.

"Astrid. May I come in?"

At the sound of Levi's voice, Petra got up at once and hurried after her to see for herself….

And surely enough, Captain Levi stood saluting in the doorway in his brown Survey Corps jacket with a grave pallor over his face.

"Petra," he murmured, seemingly stunned and shocked in equal measures to behold her once again after a month away (and at Eld's house, at that). He looked her over up and down with a troubled look in his eyes, lingering on her two-months-pregnant belly: not big enough to notice yet at first glance, but already no longer entirely flat underneath her dress. Her hands instinctively drifted down to rest on her bump, cupping it in her palms as if to shield it from his view.

Somehow he still had difficulty finding his voice again, despite his familiarity with the script he had delivered multiple times that day: "I regret to inform you that Eld Jinn of the Special Operations Squad has passed away on the 57th Survey Corps Expedition. We were unable to recover his body, but we have his personal effects from his living quarters."

And he dipped his head as he produced a small bundle of white cloth from behind his back. Astrid stood, stony-faced and silent, as Eld's parents made their way into the foyer and similarly froze when they beheld their son's Captain.

Petra closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly through her mouth to steady her heart rate. This was her squad, too, her squadmate, too….

"Who else?" Petra asked, her voice tense.

"The rest of my squad. Eld. Gunther. And Oruo. This is my last stop, and… well…."

Astrid covered her mouth with one hand as he pulled a black, velvety box out of the top of the bundle. But as he held it out to her in his outstretched palm, she shook her head firmly, holding back tears.

"You keep it," she insisted, glancing from him, to Petra, and back again to him as she folded her hands together in front of her.

"What?" he asked, giving a dumbfounded stare.

"It's no use to me anymore. But… you two can still make something good out of this war."

She glanced over at Petra again to send her a bittersweet smile through pursed lips. And her gaze finally faltered when looking back at Levi; her eyelids quivered with the impending tears, and she clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.

Petra gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, passed silently into the kitchen to recollect her basket, and reemerged ready to depart with Levi.

"Astrid, I—I'm so sorry it ended like this," she stammered, hanging her head. "If you don't want to see me again... I'll understand."

Astrid dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, nodding absentmindedly.

"It was fun… Petra… but I need some time... Maybe one day, I'll be the one to visit you."

Petra nodded back solemnly. "Okay. Whatever you need."

And she turned to Levi, taking his hand in hers as they looked at each other sadly.

"Levi. Let's go home."

While walking the few minutes from the Jinn's house to the Ral's house, Petra sensed at once that something was off about Levi. He did not quite limp, but he walked slowly, gingerly, as if afraid of exacerbating an ache or pain somewhere….

As if somehow sensing her concern, he told her, "My left leg isn't doing so good."

"What happened?"

"The doctor said I sprained my ankle and my knee. I can still walk, obviously, but it hurts."

She started to turn pale when she realized that he had never been injured as far back as she could remember.

"How?"

He cast a quick glance around them to make sure there was nobody nearby.

"It's classified, of course... Are your parents home?"

"I'm not sure. But they were at the shop when I left the house earlier."

They were in front of her house now, still holding hands. Petra took out her key and let them both inside, holding out an arm to welcome him in. She wandered into the kitchen to check for either of her parents, and she found nobody. Nevertheless, Levi led her up the stairs to her bedroom and closed the door behind them for privacy. She pushed him onto the bed, pulling his boots off and helping him to rest his back against the wall at the head of her bed, and she took a seat at the edge of the bed next to him. Her expression was grim as she looked to him expectantly.

He let loose a whispered sigh from his parted lips as he found the words to explain:

"We found an intelligent Titan in a female body shape, piloted by a human inside. We were able to prevent the Female Titan from capturing Eren. But we couldn't capture that person inside it… and we suffered massive casualties."

She was stony-faced and growing even paler. When she finally found her words again, her voice came out tense: "How did it happen? How did—how did they die?"

He shut his eyes tightly, as if internally berating himself. "I had to leave them for a while… and I didn't make it back to them in time."

"You were as fast as anyone could have been," Petra assured him, her voice thin and reedy, but sure.

"But it still wasn't fast enough," Levi said, his voice icy with guilt. With his eyes still closed, he leaned his back to the wall, tipped his head forward, and held back pained, stifled tears while holding his mouth and nose in his tented hands. And a stillness hung in the air as even Petra ran out of comforting things to say to this rare moment of vulnerability from her Captain. She sighed quietly to herself and curled her legs underneath herself with a quiet "squeak" of the bedframe under her to ease some of the pressure on him from being the center of her attention.

"Where is this woman now? The one inside the Titan?" she asked, leaning her hands forward onto her knees.

He shifted his gaze to one side and slowly lowered his hands, crossing his arms to draw his senses back in.

"Armin—one of the other newbies—he thinks he knows who it is," he muttered. "Someone from their Cadet class. She's an MP now. In Stohess."

"Wall Sina," she added, her voice sounding distant.

"In two days, we have to bring Eren in," he continued. "They want to reassess how useful he is to humanity. After this first mission with him failed so miserably. That's when we're gonna get her." He hung his head. "And before that, the memorial service for everyone is tomorrow."

Petra sat back on her bed now, letting her hands catch her from falling completely flat onto the bedspread.

"But can you imagine—if you and I hadn't, you know…." His gaze lingered on her belly, which was just barely starting to show. "Without that baby, you would have been out there, too…. And you would have probably died along with them."

She nodded miserably in agreement.

"One way or another, you saved my life," she said quietly. "Even if it was by accident." She found herself taking his hands in his, and then embracing him, leaning her chin over his collarbone. She felt his body relax into the hug, felt the breath from his nose upon the side of her neck, felt his hands make their way around the small of her back.

"'Accident' sounds like something bad—or unwanted," he pointed out solemnly, leaning back to see her face and look her in the eyes. "You, and me, and this baby… all of this is the one thing I did right."

And he hugged her back, tightly and fiercely, with renewed determination.

"I said I'd come back, and I'll keep coming back," he told her. "Until the day I can stay here with you forever…."

"Do you promise?" she asked in a half-whisper.

He nodded, gazing intently into her tear-filled eyes.

"I promise."

She managed a faltering smile while he lifted his sleeve up and dabbed at the corners of her eyes to blot out her tears.

"In the end, Astrid was right," he concluded in a low voice while he fussed over her. "Without the Titans, who knows if you and I would have ever met at all. And that's one thing that I'll always be grateful for."

He stood up from the bed and knelt down before her on his left knee, pursing his lips in a brief grimace as a shooting pain sprang up in his left ankle. He gazed up into her tear-filled eyes as she remained seated at the edge of the bed; she nodded and waited for him to continue.

"I'm sorry it's secondhand… I don't know shit about jewelry, even if I had gone shopping for it myself… but anyway—" he opened the box to reveal a brilliantly shining, beveled Iceburst Stone atop a golden band, "—I hope you like it."

He paused again as she smiled lovingly down at him, nodding one more time as she extended her hand. He carefully threaded the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand, then looked back up at her. He had never felt quite so vulnerable in his entire life, putting all his hopes and dreams in her hands with such an official gesture. But something about her—no, everything about her—made it feel so easy to dedicate himself to her.

"Iceburst Stone," she marveled, angling her hand to see it glow in the lamplight like a burning, white-hot star piercing through the veil of the sun. She paused and took a closer look at the flattened band to read a tiny inscription on it: "Dedicate Your Heart".

"I love it," she whispered. "And I love you."

"I love you, too," he murmured. "So… Petra… will you marry me?"

She started to chuckle mirthfully through her fresh tears. "I mean, I already did—on paper, you know—but yes. Yes."

She reached down under his left arm to help him to his feet again, and he pulled her in close, wiped her tears with his sleeve yet again, and kissed her on the lips.

"Congratulations," Mrs. Ral declared. Levi and Petra jerked their heads to where she stood in the somehow-open doorway, her fists resting proudly on her hips.

"We didn't even hear the door open," Petra mumbled, starting to blush furiously. Levi cleared his throat loudly and turned away from them both to hide his own raging embarrassment.

"Then you were in the moment," she said, beaming broadly. "Just as you should be."

"Thanks, Mother…. Now would you mind giving us a moment?"

Her mother chuckled heartily. "Of course, sweetie." She lifted her head to Levi and added, "And Captain: well done. You're a natural."

She swung the door shut with a "click". Petra collapsed into Levi's waiting arms, and they both laughed into each other's shoulders in equal parts elation and mortification.

Through the door to Petra's room, they both leaned their ears onto the wood of the door and listened when they caught her mother's voice from the living room downstairs:

"Guess who got engaged—after they got married," she sang out. "And pregnant. Gee. They really did do it all out of order…."

"Heh. Oh boy," her father chuckled. "Where are the two lovebirds, then?"

"In her room. They told me to get out."

"You were watching?"

"Of course! How could I not?"

"Oh my God, woman. Give them some space!"

"Honey, you got down on one knee in front of all of our parents. What's wrong with one, little, well-intentioned Mommy in the doorway?"

"Captain Levi is a very private sort—a serious personality! You can't stalk people in their most vulnerable moment just to fulfill your burning curiosity!"

She burst out laughing.

"Men are so sensitive. It all went well, don't worry."

"Thank God it did. If that had gone to shit because you stuck your nose in there, I swear…."

"Well, do you hear that? Is that the Daddy Stamp of Approval at long last?"

"Heh. I guess it is…."

Levi and Petra both nodded and stepped away from their eavesdropping. He held her in his arms again, leaning his head in so his bangs brushed against her forehead, and closing his eyes to breathe her in.

"I'm tempted to say we should move on to the honeymoon," Petra began teasingly, "but that might be awkward with my parents around…."

He sighed, opening his eyes halfway, and he nuzzled the tip of his nose on the crown of her hair.

"We'll figure something out." He lifted her chin up to meet her gaze. "But for now… we have this." And he kissed her on the lips again, reveling in her taste.

The following day, on their way through the military cemetery to the memorial ceremony for their squad, Levi and Petra wore matching green military jackets, boots, and pants. They noticed a teenage boy walking some paces ahead. The boy eventually stopped and stood teary-eyed before one of the gravestones, and they stopped walking to listen a little to him. He looked to be about in his mid- to late teens: still somewhat lean with the demands of his growth spurt, but putting on muscle to catch up to his height. Petra glanced down at the bouquet of blue and white roses in her arms to contemplate their hues while she listened.

"I know you didn't want me to follow you, Johanna, but I've made up my mind: I'm joining the Cadets in the next enlistment round. I'm still young enough; I know they'll take me. And… well… you can't stop me anymore."

The boy clenched his fists as he fought to contain his rage.

"The Titans will pay for what they did to you. You'll see…."

The boy turned to look at Levi and Petra as he sensed their presence a few gravestones down the row. His eyes grew wide in recognition.

"You're… Captain Levi…." His voice trailed off as he stared.

Petra smiled empathetically at him and looked at Levi.

"What's your name, kid?" Levi asked him, although somewhere in the back of his mind, he could already half-predict the answer….

"Valis."

"Valis…." He turned to look at Petra, who was already holding out a single white rose from the bouquet as if she had read his mind—or at least, his intentions. Levi took the rose and handed it to Valis.

"Give this to Johanna," Levi told him with a curt nod.

The boy looked down at the velvety-petaled white rose in his hands, and back up at Levi with admiration in his eyes.

"Thank you, sir…. I wish I could have bought her something, but roses aren't cheap," Valis said. And his gaze fell. "My mother said we shouldn't bother sending any roses to their deaths for her, 'cause there's already enough death in the world…."

Levi's eyes narrowed at the pessimistic sentiment. "When you dedicate your life to something, you send yourself to your own death," he said. "Same with sending something or someone else to die. That's the path you're choosing if you enlist."

He glanced down at Johanna's gravestone, then back at Valis.

"But…."

Valis lifted his head to look Levi in the face again. His expression was fluctuating, unsure, but wanting to believe….

Levi continued, "Death begets life. In the Survey Corps, the motto is, 'Dedicate your heart.' We lose people—and even if we don't lose our own lives, we still lose a part of ourselves… but we do it because it means something."

Levi's gaze flitted over to the roses wrapped in craft paper, cradled in Petra's arms like a swaddled baby, the gleaming ring upon her finger, her subtly growing belly underneath that, then to her face to gaze into her lovely amber eyes. She gazed sadly back, her lips pursed tightly in contemplation.

"Who was she to you, Valis?" Petra asked him with a warm twinkle in her eye.

"My sister," Valis replied, his voice sounding far-off as he took in the sight of Petra. His eyes lingered for a long moment on the ring, glowing clearly from every angle. "My older sister… from the Garrison."

"Well, you know what the Garrison crest has on it?" Petra said. "Roses. Climbing the Wall, growing upward." And she smiled at him yet again, as if enveloping him in her radiant kindness. "Isn't that beautiful? Something worth believing in?"

Valis lowered his face into his hands, letting himself cry silent, burning tears as he nodded. The single white rose hung loosely by one of his pinkie fingers—just barely managing to stay put, but nevertheless still there. Levi gave him a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. And when the boy finally took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up from his hands, Levi and Petra were already walking onward, making their own path to their own destination—their own people to mourn and keep on living for.

Levi quietly introduced Petra when they arrived to join the others standing on the grass between two rows of gravestones.

"Everyone, this is Petra Ral from my Special Operations Squad. And also my… wife."

The word "wife" slipped awkwardly off his lips; he was not yet used to introducing her out loud as such, especially since he had just recently proposed. Nevertheless, Petra smiled calmly at the group gathered. Erwin, Hange and Miche and their sections all stood somberly amongst the visibly youthful (and generally shorter) former 104th Cadets, and all were united in the same long, green Survey Corps jackets and dress boots for formal occasions such as this.

Levi jerked his head in the direction of three young soldiers in a cluster: a dark brown-haired boy, a raven-haired girl, and a blond boy. "This is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin."

"I believe we've met, Petra..." Mikasa said, her voice trailing off.

Petra grinned. "Yes, we have."

"And Sasha, Conny, Jean, Krista, Ymir," he took a brief pause as his gaze flitted back to Petra, then to who he was introducing, "Reiner, Bertholdt..."

Petra uttered a quiet hum of contemplation. "Gee, a lot of you guys joined the Scouts this time around. Even after what happened in Trost..."

The tall boy named Jean gave a shrug. "Ah, well, what can I say? We decided we found something worth believing in." He glanced expectantly at Eren, seeming to put pressure on him; Eren averted his gaze in seeming discomfort.

Petra gave a knowing smile. "I guess I could say that I know all about that."

And she and Levi locked eyes for a long moment of mutual understanding.

"You're really different when you're with her, Captain," Mikasa commented quietly. Levi and Petra turned to her, with Levi raising an eyebrow.

"Oh really," he drawled, staring intensely at her.

"It's like you're off in a whole different world when you're looking at her," Mikasa said, and the tiniest of smiles played with the corners of her mouth. And she glanced with a glint of hope in her eyes at Eren next to her, who gave her the slightest tilt of his head in acknowledgment. "Like nothing else matters but her," Mikasa concluded, giving a subtle nod back.

"Even so, we still have our mission as Scouts," Levi insisted, but his clenching fist pressed at his thigh told himself the truth: how very torn he had been for so long—and would continue to be—over how to truly honor all the things that mattered, and whom they mattered to.

On the way back home, holding hands with Levi, Petra could have sworn she felt something inside her telling her to look around for something important—something she should see, somewhere she should go….

"Look," she said to Levi, and she gave a tug on his hand to slow him down.

She pointed out an unassuming tavern off to one side of the road, and they came to a stop not far from the entrance. A little voice inside Petra's head beckoned her towards it, to finally see for themselves what all those rumors around town were about….

"You know, that place… I hear it's a good place to relax a while," she said, leaning into Levi and resting her hands on his chest. "It's hard to get any alone time with my parents wandering in and out of the house…."

He looked down quizzically at her, carefully reading her intentions.

"Are you suggesting what I think you are…?"

"It's as good a time as any to have that honeymoon. Where are you hurrying off to?" she pressed on. "You're injured, aren't you?"

He embraced her, sneaking in a furtive, gentle kiss on the side of her cheek. "I know it sounds shitty to say it, but… I'm just glad that neither of us is dead…."

And he took her by the hand and pulled her along to the tavern, just like she wanted.

He raised an eyebrow when he approached the open front door and realized that they had taken down the street sign.

"What's all that about?" he asked the door greeter, pointing at the dangling metal hooks where the sign used to hang. "Don't you have a name anymore?"

The door greeter giggled, raising a hand to cover her mouth. "Oh, we do, but we're changing things up a bit. We used to be the 'Farmer's Folly', but we're the 'Soldier's Secret' now!"

Petra leaned into him a little; he nudged her back gently with his elbow.

"We get so many soldiers in here that we figured we should cater more specifically to them. If we can keep growing our business, we want to expand to Calaneth District, too, since that's going to be the new staging point for military activities…."

She glanced approvingly up and down at Levi, still in his long, green formal jacket, and the pretty lady with strawberry blonde hair he held by the hand who was dressed in a green jacket of her own.

"Tell me, then, sir," she continued with a sly, knowing twinkle in her eye. "Is this visit hourly or nightly? And does your stay need to be kept secret?"

He turned to Petra to confirm the plan.

"It's gonna have to be hourly, right? Your parents expect us home eventually…."

Petra sighed in resignation.

"Yeah…. But we can do plenty in a few hours…." She gave his hand a squeeze, and he squeezed back.

"Sounds like a plan," he said. He turned to the door greeter again. "Two hours, please—no, make that three. Nicest room available."

Petra grinned through closed lips at him.

The door greeter nodded in understanding. "Three hours, Commander's Quarters, parents at home… keep it secret… got it," she noted, checking the "Secret" box on her notepad paper. "We have three Commander's Quarters for each of the three regiments."

"Is the Survey Corps one available?" Petra asked hopefully.

The door greeter hissed in self-admonishment, tapping her pencil on the paper. "Oh, sorry, that one just got booked. I know we do have the Military Police one, though." She checked a list of notes on the podium in front of her. "Hmm, actually, that's the last of the Commander's Quarters open at the moment... Nothing like a memorial ceremony to make people want to drown their sorrows with a 'roll in the hay'..."

Levi grumbled, "Fine, that one'll do."

She grinned and continued, "They're actually all decorated the same right now—that is to say, undecorated—'cause we just came up with the concept. But after we renovate a bit and have our Grand Reopening, you'll get to see what we come up with..." And she trailed off slyly with a tantalizing smirk.

"Oh, but they have food here, too," Petra noted, seeing the menu on the wall. "Can we maybe have a quick lunch first, too?"

"That's true… okay, we'll eat downstairs first, and then three hours upstairs."

The door greeter smiled at them, waving her hand to welcome them in.

"It'll be our pleasure. Enjoy your visit," she sang out.

Petra hurried over to claim the last open table with space for two diners to sit across from each other next to one of the windows. Levi strode over in his usual, matter-of-fact way of comporting himself, took a quick glance around the room to size up who was around and what they were doing (a bunch of military men in uniforms of their respective regiments, sitting up with their arms crossed or with their hands holding their beer steins resting on the bar counters or tables), and he finally took a seat on the wooden bench across from Petra. He was positioned with a clear view of the door—the position he always made a point to take when sitting somewhere indoors, to help fend against people potentially entering and sneaking up on him to attack him from behind. But Petra was not as paranoid as he was, and she seemed not to mind having her back to the entrance. She leaned forward onto her elbows, perching her chin on the backs of her hands, and gazed curiously at him.

"Is this… a date?" she asked him teasingly.

"It is if you want it to be."

And she held a tiny, satisfied smile on the corners of her lips.

"A date, and a clandestine encounter…." The light from the window next to them twinkled in her eye.

He gave a furtive glance around the room again before refocusing on her. "Don't get me going just yet or you'll kill my appetite."

She nodded. "Mmm, that's right. Better get some gas in that tank before you go flying off to who knows where…." She opened the paper menu in front of her and started scanning the options. "But I'm starting to wonder: what would have happened if we didn't keep our visit a secret?"

Levi shrugged, already poring over the menu. "I'd rather not find out."

A barmaid with blonde, braided hair sashayed over to them wearing the standard corseted dress uniform.

"Hello, soldiers. What can I get you two to drink?"

"Black tea, please," Levi said. "But for her…."

Petra nodded and opened her mouth to ask for the same, but the words caught in her throat when she locked eyes with him. She recalled his admonishment from earlier about overstimulating the baby with tea, and she heaved a sigh. "Just water for me, please."

The barmaid grinned as if biting down a sarcastic remark. "Coming right up. Any appetizers I can get you started with for now?"

Levi glanced back down at the menu, then pointed to his choice: "Could we get a plate of strawberries, please?"

She nodded enthusiastically while she scribbled his order on her notepad. "Get those strawberries while you can: it's near the end of the season for them!" And she sauntered away, tapping her pencil against her notepad still in her hand.

Petra smiled. "That's right, it is still strawberry season…."

"Strawberries are cleansing for the mouth," he pointed out.

Petra bobbed her head in agreement. "That sounds good. You'd better have a clean mouth…."

He cleared his throat pointedly. "Why? Are you asking for something in particular?"

"I don't know; you'll just have to be patient and find out," she teased, then let loose a second sigh, more quietly this time. "I wonder if the tea is any good here… not that I'll get to find out," she sniffed.

"A place like this? Probably not, but I could use the pick-me-up." His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, leaning his elbows on the tabletop. "To get some more 'gas' in my tank'…."

Petra stifled a chuckle behind one hand covering her mouth. In no time at all, the server reappeared with the strawberries in hand, setting it down in front of them.

"Enjoy! Are you two ready to order?"

Petra hummed briefly to herself. "We should keep it light, huh? My parents are probably going to expect us to have enough room for dinner…."

As they each proposed a dish to share between themselves, over at the door, the door greeter could be heard saying, "Welcome to the Soldier's Secret, Captain! How can we help you?"

A woman's serious-sounding, alto voice then said, "I'd like to place a group order for takeout…."

Petra turned her head slightly to peek out of the corner of her eye. "Who's the other captain? Ohhh," she whispered, her eyes growing wide with instant recognition. Levi furtively cleared his throat and got started on the strawberries to keep up appearances of busyness once the server was no longer there to shield them from view.

A man's familiar voice called out towards her, "The Hero of the Garrison! Rico Brzenska!"

Petra leaned in and whispered to Levi, "Hey, isn't that Gelgar?"

Levi glanced quickly in Gelgar's direction, then looked away just as quickly. "Shit. It is. Don't look at him…."

Rico gave Gelgar an unamused glare. "Please. It's the same job as anyone else; I just happened to not die yet."

Gelgar held a hand out as if to display her face for the other onlookers. "Should we call you 'Hero', or 'Heroine'… or 'Garrisonette', maybe….?"

Her eyes narrowed savagely. "What did you call me?"

Gelgar shrugged. "In the Garrison, they send their most decorated woman to pick up the food? How does that make you feel?"

"Well, I happened to have volunteered to do it for my subordinates today, but if that's how they do it in the Survey Corps, then that's unfortunate for them," she scoffed.

Gelgar huffed, "That's not true! We are fully gender-equal in the Survey Corps. One of our section leaders in particular is pretty gender-confused…."

Rico was now the one to shrug. "I dunno. I hear that your Commander prefers the 'ginger tea'…."

He frowned. "What are you even saying?"

"Doesn't Commander Erwin have a harem of gingers making him tea at all hours of the day and night?"

"Also not true. Captain Levi is also perfectly willing to brew our Commander some tea…."

She crossed her arms as she raised one eyebrow. "I don't know. Maybe he's gay."

"Excuse me?"

Levi frowned petulantly at the incorrect speculation, but Petra glared at him as if to say, "Don't you dare get involved."

"On the other hand, I did also hear that he ran off with one of your Commander's gingers and got her pregnant," she sang out. She glanced over Gelgar's shoulder, staring Levi in the face; Petra was now the one fuming silently in her seat, and Levi glared at her in a similar manner to convince her to stay put. "But you'd know more about that than I would."

Gelgar continued to mumble into his drink, "Captain Levi… making babies… good for him, man… good for him. Doing his girl, doing his duty—rebuilding the population—'cause we're bleeding soldiers every day… Scouts… Garrison…."

"I'm well aware of that," Rico sniffed.

Gelgar blinked in dawning realization, then turned his head to regard her in a new light. "You're a woman, aren't you, Rico?"

"Yes…?"

"Well, get on it and get it on already! Society needs baby-makers!"

Rico tilted her head forward, readying herself for the impending confrontation. "Okay, now you've crossed the line—"

And she matter-of-factly slugged him in the guts, then kneed him in the groin as he bent over to grab his midsection. She pushed her glasses more securely onto the bridge of her nose, swept up the stack of takeout boxes, and left Gelgar to limp back over to his seat, his legs quivering with the agonizing pain. On the way to the exit, however, a Military Police officer stopped her in her tracks.

"Is there a problem, ma'am? Sir?"

"Not at all; I was just leaving." And she marched past him towards the door to do just that.

The MP turned to the young, fresh-faced new soldier next to him who was eagerly finishing up a sketch of the scene of Rico arguing with Gelgar.

"Take notes on that, Bruno. That one's a worthy case study."

Bruno looked up from his notepad. "On what? On how to beat up a guy without ruining his hairdo?"

The officer chuckled. "On what not to say to women! Never call a woman a 'baby-maker'—or else say goodbye to your baby-maker."

And the younger officer nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir!"

Gelgar heaved a sigh, preening his massive pompadour of hair while peeking at his reflection in his beer stein. Then he began drunkenly sobbing into his beer stein at the bar and started calling out to the bartender: "People just keep on fucking dying. When will it ever end?"

The bartender shrugged, his back turned while he dried a grouping of cleaned beer steins with a towel. "How the hell would I know, dude? I'm just a bartender."

A soldier next to Gelgar in a Garrison uniform set his beer stein down with a loud "thunk" and turned to glare at him. "Hey, shut up. That's bad for morale, spewing that shit out loud."

"Well, I can't be the only one thinking it!" And Gelgar began scanning around the room to search for any signs of sympathy from his fellow tavern patrons.

Petra grinned uncomfortably. "Gee, he's really making a scene. Where's the rest of his section? Where's Miche? Or Nanaba?"

Levi shrugged. "Maybe they let him wander off and he ended up here. How the hell do I know?"

Something dawned on her as she tapped her lips with her fingertip. "Do you think they're… you know… upstairs?"

He raised an eyebrow as he lowered his teacup from his lips. "What? Are they together, too, now?"

Petra tapped her index finger on the table to illustrate her point. "Someone did book the Survey Corps Commander's Quarters ahead of us… I'm telling you, it checks out! Miche and Nanaba went upstairs and they dumped their third wheel at the bar."

"What the hell? You think Miche did that?"

She leaned in a little closer to him and said in a low voice, "Nanaba told me once that Miche said she smells 'fruity'. What do you think that means?"

"That he gets a hard-on when he eats fruit?" he snorted.

"He thinks she smells good! He never says that about anyone. He said I smell like soap."

"Oh. My God," Gelgar said in a deadpan voice from right behind Petra. She froze with her mouth still half-open; Levi slowly peeled his gaze upward to glance up at Gelgar's face for the briefest moment, then back down to pretend that he hadn't seen him.

"Well, if it isn't 'Humanity's Hottest Couple'!"

Levi muttered under his breath, "Shit…" and hunched over a little, as if it could possibly help him be any less noticeable.

Then, without any invitation, Gelgar plunked himself down on the bench next to Levi, who widened his eyes in silent panic as he locked gazes with Petra.

"Captain Levi… and Petra… you should know that I am—totally—your biggest fan. Like, you look so hot together—I can't even think straight…."

Levi scoffed. "You sure can't."

"But just—please don't tell the others that I'm—like this—when I'm drunk." And he hiccupped. "I swear to God I—always do my job—"

Levi sighed, starting to loosen up. He reached up and clapped Gelgar on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry about it. It's a lot to take… a lot of people have been dying…." Levi narrowed his eyes. "Just sober up for a while before you go back to the barracks. You got that?"

Gelgar nodded agreeably, still clearly not quite clear-headed. Then he looked up to peer carefully at each of them in turn.

"If you two are here together, then it can only mean one thing…."

Petra started nervously tracing her fingertip along the wood grains in the tabletop. "Um, well, we got hungry, so we stopped by for some food…." She looked to Levi, her eyes wild and desperate. "People go here just to eat the food, right?"

Gelgar continued to sob, this time also laughing simultaneously.

Levi raised his hand to wave over one of the servers, who made a beeline for him when they noticed him.

"Could you please get him up to a room and leave him there a while to sober up?" Levi asked her. "You can put it on my tab. Captain Levi of the Survey Corps."

She nodded effusively. "Yes, Captain!"

"Don't let any escorts in there, either. He already has enough going on." He paused for a beat. "And I'm not paying for that."

"Understood!"

After a few more pitiful sniffs, Gelgar stopped sobbing, took a deep breath, and howled loudly to the room at large: "Why is everyone getting laid today but me?" And then he sobbed anew and muttered, "Shit... I hate this place..."

Petra frowned empathetically at him. "Aww, come on, Gelgar. It's not the end of the world..."

"The hell you talkin' 'bout? It damn well is! Titans everywhere... People dying left and right..."

The server perked up. "And that's why we're revamping this whole place, to better serve the needs of soldiers like you."

"Serve my 'needs'?" He scoffed. "You wouldn't happen to have a good dating service or something, wouldya?"

After a moment of contemplation, the served piped up, "Well, I'll be sure to make note of that idea! But for now, we do have a good number of personal escorts we contracted for the day... Although..."

And the server glanced at the escort table in the corner; all the women gave Gelgar disapproving looks that clearly said, "Not interested."

She cleared her throat and leaned her head in to say, "A word of advice: women tend to go for men who aren't quite so desperate..."

"Excuse me?"

She sighed exasperatedly, "Look: you're a tall, decent-looking soldier—a Scout, to boot! You guys are the most sought-after regiment, so advertise that a little more."

He stared blandly at her. "Why the hell would people shit on us in the streets and then line up to ride us in the sheets?"

At this, she burst out laughing. "You know, you're pretty funny. I'm only going to tell you this 'cause you're too blackout drunk to remember, but..." and she giggled, "you Scouts are the perfect one-night stand! Bold, adventurous, perfectly sculpted..."

She looked him up and down approvingly.

"And then you all die in a year or two." She shrugged. "No strings attached. Conveniently... erased." She waved her hand and whispered "poof" for added effect.

Gelgar stared slack-jawed at her, at a complete loss for words.

"You're not bad," the server concluded, nodding slowly. "Witty... big hairdo... too drunk to remember anything... you do look like you're gonna die pretty soon..."

"Uh... thank you?"

She turned to Levi and cleared her throat quietly. "Can I take him upstairs?"

"As long as I'm not paying you." And Levi rolled his eyes and took another sip of his tea.

"With pleasure," the server chuckled.

Levi shook his head as she locked arms with Gelgar and guided him, stumbling, towards the staircase near the front door.

Petra started giggling uncontrollably to herself. "Then I guess everyone is getting laid today..."

"Heh," Levi smirked. "I did think that all the staff seemed a little too happy to be working here. Now we know why: first picks on the lonely, horny drunks…."

"That, or they're so desperate that they'll even take the guys that the escorts won't."

He popped the last strawberry in his mouth and washed it down with another sip of tea. "But that can't be all the staff, all the time…." And he shook his head. "Damn. People are weird."

"Will Gelgar be okay?" Petra sighed. "He's not like this on-duty…."

"He'll be fine. From what I've seen, he knows how to keep things separate from work. And that lady can handle him. She's definitely not new to this…." He tipped his head back to finish the last drops of his tea.

She leaned back in her seat with a creak of the wood underneath her. "You won't report him or anything?"

"Nah. Erwin's got bigger problems than a little off-duty drinking…." He eyed her suggestively. "Or fucking…."

The woman in a barmaid outfit showing them upstairs hummed cheerily, transitioning into a suggestive-sounding "heh heh" as she pulled up outside the open door to their hourly lodging with a hand-carved wooden sign above the door frame: "Commander's Quarters – Military Police".

"In the near future, you can look forward to our room service menu with everything you could want or need: entrees, desserts, and other, heh, equipment for your adventures," she tittered. "We look forward to hearing your feedback from your stay to help guide our expansion plan!"

"We'll have to plan another visit someday, then," Petra concluded with a grin. But then she and Levi glanced timidly over at each other, suddenly wondering when they would ever get the opportunity to come back there again—how big her belly would be by the time he was able to come home again….

"That's right: you'll just have to come again…" the barmaid giggled, wiggling her fingers goodbye and strolling back towards the stairs.

Levi and Petra gave each other amused looks this time.

"She really just said, 'come again'," Petra murmured in a daze. "Wow, they sure have attention to detail already—even with what they say…."

Levi uttered a quiet "heh" as well and guided her along over the threshold into the room.

In their room now with the door securely locked behind them, Petra wandered eagerly all around to see it all, with Levi not far behind.

"So, this is the Commander's Quarters," she murmured, seemingly entranced. "Look at you, moving up in life."

"Money can buy promotions in real life," he mused. "At least in some cases…. Although… should I have stayed within my rank for the room choice? The Captain's Quarters probably would have been fine for our purposes..."

"Why are you asking me? You're the one who wanted the best room available."

"For you, of course I'd go for the highest-quality option..."

Petra scratched the back of her head as she surveyed the room again. "I feel kind of naughty being here. As if Commander Erwin is going to bust in at any minute and catch us going at it in his bed... Or I guess it would be Commander Dawk, if we're in the MP one…."

Levi crossed his arms and tilted his head back in thought. "Does the thought of breaking the rules turn you on or off?"

"Hmm, good question. I guess we did get here by breaking the rules that one time, if you remember…" she trailed off suggestively.

They noticed a wooden desk and chair next to the bedside table, with the chair outfitted curiously in multiple undone belts, and the desktop displaying a riding crop, multiple lengths of rope, and a long strip of cloth in the perfect length for a blindfold, or for tying someone's hands together….

"Damn," Levi muttered. "Bondage shit, too?"

Petra sighed. "Don't the Interior Police strap people down in chairs and torture them?"

"They sure are going all-out on the room theme here. And this is just the soft reopening…."

"I know, right?" she chuckled. "Well, I think this already has to be the hottest honeymoon hotel in town."

They both continued wandering around, looking the walls and fixtures up and down.

"You know," Levi began, "we'd probably find peepholes all over the place, if we looked hard enough for them."

"What?!"

He shrugged. "Hey, we could have gone somewhere nicer, but you're the one who wanted to go here."

"I guess that's true," she admitted. "Then we'll just have to give 'em a good show…." She sent a suggestive look at him over her shoulder, and he raised an eyebrow suggestively back.

She pulled him into the bathroom by his sleeve and gazed around approvingly. "Wow, there's a bath? With flower petals and everything?" she gushed, pointing at the little bucket of fresh, red rose petals next to the large, wooden bathtub. "Is this what the regiment commanders really get in their barracks?"

He scoffed. "Hell if I would know."

He pulled the instruction card out of his pocket to examine it again.

"Pull the string by the doorknob to ring the bell outside, and a staff member will fill the tub with hot water while you are 'indisposed'. When you are ready to bathe, the water will have cooled to the perfect temperature."

He lifted his head to look back outside the door to the adjoining bedroom area, and Petra made to go to the front door to the room with him. Both their hands reached for the string at the same time; they looked at each other as their fingers touched, and they smiled furtive, mischievous smiles at each other. He held her hand in his and they gave the string a firm, decisive tug as one. The clanging of the bath bell and a shout of "Coming!" from down the hall signaled to them that it was all going according to plan.

Levi held Petra's face in his hand and kissed her on the lips, gently at first, then more and more urgently. His hand migrated into her hair as their breathing quickened, puffing out through their noses as their mouths remained occupied with their kisses. Finally he broke away and pushed her along towards the bed.

"Take all that shit off," he told her, "and then we're gonna fuck."

She turned around and caught him in her arms again as he rejoined her at the side of the bed.

"You should take it off for me," she insisted. "And then I can take off yours…."

He pushed her over and onto the bed, hovering over her on his hands and knees. He turned down to look at their feet, then pulled her shoes off. She also sat up and pulled off his own boots, letting them clatter heavily on the floor.

"This place is pretty promising," she admitted as she pulled his jacket off. "I wonder what it'll be like in Calaneth…."

"I'm not waiting for the Grand Reopening," he muttered in her ear, undoing her jacket buttons and pulling her jacket off her own back. "I could be dead tomorrow…."

"Oh, stop it," she huffed. "We're alive right now. No talking about the morbid future."

He groaned quietly through half-closed lips as he undid her dress shirt from behind, feeling along down her front as the buttons guided him, and once he had pulled the shirt away, he fondled her breasts through her bra; his surging erection was held down only by her rounded ass pressed up against him through their pants. "No more talking, period…."

"Yes, Captain," she declared with a naughty sigh. "Oh…."

He pulled his hands to her back and undid the clasp of her bra.

"I'm gonna fucking ravish you," he growled into her ear as he slid her bra off her shoulders and grabbed her bare breasts with his hands. She squeaked a little and pulled at his hands to loosen them.

"Not so hard," she panted. "They're pretty sore."

"Shit. That's right. Sorry..." he murmured into her hair. He played briefly with her nipples, then slid his hands downward into her underwear bottoms, prompting another quiet moan from her.

It felt like months instead of weeks since the first (and last) time they had sex. He flipped her around to face him again. She moaned deeply and passionately as they kissed again and again, with her sitting on top of him so his ankle could rest. They soon gave up kissing and progressed to fucking: they pulled each other's underwear off and he spread her legs around him, groaning quietly into the crown of her hair as he penetrated her smoothly, his arousal surging upward into her ever harder and thicker. He gripped her tightly by the hips, thrusting upward into her, as she held herself down around him with her body weight and sank down deeper and deeper, riding him as he bucked. In truth, they were both tired—exhausted in their hearts—but in finding this solace in each other, they felt themselves grow light and carefree again, just being together. Their little secret, away from the outside world that sought to tell them how to be proper soldiers in public, mourning silently with no relief from the pain.

He slid his fingers into her swollen, wet folds, feeling around on either side of her clit and rubbing her back and forth. She let loose a high-pitched moan and pushed his hand away.

"Here—I'll do it," she said breathlessly. "You just—focus on the other stuff—" she panted. He held her hips ever tighter around him and watched through his hazy, desirous gaze upon her fingers sliding down between her legs to play with herself as he bridged upward into her with a measured, steady rhythm. Her face was set with focus and her eyes closed at her combined, intertwining pleasure.

"Holy shit, are you sexy," he marveled quietly at her. She moaned again, more urgently as she moved her fingers more quickly as she neared their destination. They pressed onward, sliding their parts tightly around each other as they rode, until finally he clenched his fingertips into her skin and released himself upward in a pulsing fountain of white-hot water, spilling everything he had been holding in outward and upward into her. Her inner muscles quivered around his geyser of spurting heat as she also orgasmed deeply and completely.

She continued moaning quietly and desperately as he breathed and panted against her forehead, still rhythmically thrusting upward. She pleasured herself between her legs a little more slowly now, riding herself out of her orgasm, then finally pulling her hand out and grabbing a conveniently-placed hand towel from the bedside table to clean her wetness off.

"Levi," she murmured, leaning down to kiss him. "Captain Levi…."

He continued thrusting with his eyes half-closed with the focus of their pleasuring, barely acknowledging her words at first, but eventually acknowledged his erection fading and lifted her up by her thighs. She got up to her knees, pulling herself out from around him, and sighed wistfully as she felt instant nostalgia for the feeling of him inside her. He lifted her up, pulling her thighs closed, and sat her up on his lap. She turned and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling his head in close and touching noses with his.

"Do you like it when I call you that?" she asked him teasingly.

"You can call me whatever, but I'm not stopping," he said.

"Would you do it harder to, well, show me your authority…?"

He groaned and kissed her full and long. "Hell yes…." He deposited her onto her back, picked her up by scooping underneath her thighs with both of his arms, and sat her on the edge of the desk against the wall. He pulled up the chair to sit in it and spread her legs wide in front of him.

"You want it like this?" he asked her, kissing the skin of her inner thigh, planting each one a little higher up, closer and closer to her private area between her legs.

She moaned quietly, clutching his hair in her fingers.

"Yes," breathed. "Yes, Captain…."

He pulled her into him by the thighs and touched his tongue underneath her clit, then molded his lips around her and began to suck, drinking her fluids in. She squealed a little at the unexpected surge in pleasure, cupping around his head with both hands as he took charge immediately. He explored her wetness with his strong, firm tongue and lips, reveling in her every moan and breathy encouragement, until he finally stood up in front of her with a renewed erection, pulling her in again to penetrate her from the front. Her whole body quivered under his command, and she moaned through tightly closed lips as he took up a fresh rhythm with his thrusting. Her fingers curled around the edges of the desk as he pushed himself deeply up and into her and she shut her eyes with the familiar pleasurable sensation of him inside her—her lover, her man, her Captain.

Her wrist brushed up against something on the desk—she glanced over and down at the strip of cloth still folded but getting trapped between her hand and the desktop.

"We still have—all this stuff we could be using—" she pointed out breathlessly to him, causing him to slow his rhythm to a stop, still holding himself inside her.

"Do we really need that shit?" he muttered, but nevertheless, he grabbed the cloth out of her hands and leaned over her to tie her hands together behind her back. She planted some measured smooches down his throat, lingering on his Adam's apple, and she sighed coquettishly as he gave a final tug on the ends of the cloth to secure it.

"I can't hold myself up so well anymore," she whispered in his ear. "I'm gonna need a little more help…."

At this, he slid his hands underneath her thighs and pulled himself more deeply into her, grasping around the half-moons of her ass while holding her legs up over his arms. She reached behind her with her bound hands to brace herself against the surface of the desk, shoving the coils of rope off to the side.

It took him longer and longer every time to reach his orgasm: every time he ejaculated, he gained more stamina to continue for even longer the next time before he had to cum again. Conversely, she could handle less and less before she was orgasming yet again, pumping and quivering her muscles around him as her breath caught in her throat and her body tensed. After she came two times in fairly quick succession, each orgasm blending into the next just as she thought it was on the way out, he finally came as well. He groaned deeply, satisfied completely with the release of his anxieties and stress as he flooded her with his semen yet again. He did not envy the staff who would be washing their bedsheets after this….

"Are you gonna let me go now?" she asked him, and he undid the knot to unbind her wrists.

"You were right; we didn't really need all that," she murmured, bringing her hands back to her front to hold him around his shoulders.

"There's a lot of other stuff we could have done with that," he said, "but… all I need is you."

And she smiled and batted her eyelashes at him, helplessly swooning for him even more.

They made their way back over to the bed and lay panting and sweaty on top of the bedspread for some minutes, with Levi spooning Petra in his arms. He ran his hand down the rounded curve of her shoulder, kissing her on the shoulder blade as his hands migrated further over and around her breast. She moaned quietly and pressed her backside up against him, and he pressed himself back into her.

"I can't stand—being away from you—I—think about you—all—the time," he murmured in between worshipful kisses in slow succession along the skin of her shoulders and the back of her neck.

"You do?" she half-whispered back playfully to him, cocking her head to the side to regard him out of the corner of her eye.

"I think about you.…" He slid his hand indulgently around her ass. "I think about this…."

And now that he was fully hard once more, he reached over around the curve of her shoulder and pulled her onto her back. She spread her legs for him while she steadied her hands on his chest, and he thrusted himself into her again; she squeezed her eyes shut and sighed in exquisite pleasure, and she squeezed around him with her inner muscles, making him groan quietly through half-closed lips as he kissed her on the neck again.

"I missed you, too," she sighed, turning her head from one side to the other. "I missed this…."

Before they got too comfortable in that position, however, he took a noticeable pause, as if contemplating something, which elicited a whine of disappointment from her. But then he asked, "Can I try it from behind?" and she could have sworn she blushed a little.

"Did we do it like that last time?" she mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I can't even remember…. It always goes by in a blur—when we're together…."

"Just tell me if you don't want to," he sighed, pulling her head in for a breathy kiss.

As their lips parted, she nodded slowly and whispered in his ear, "Okay. We'll try it."

He groaned softly and kissed her on the neck, gently at first, then a bit more fervently at the base of her ear. And he pushed her over onto her hands and knees, grasped around both sides of her ass, and found himself holding his breath at the tortuously pleasurable sensation as he reentered her from behind. She cried out in surprise at how much more deeply he could go—every time he thrusted before, she had thought that he couldn't possibly go deeper—but she was wrong, in the best way. He ran his hands around the cheeks of her smooth, rounded ass and thrusted again, firmly and decisively, and he let loose another groan of satisfaction as she clutched around him with her pelvic muscles. While he continued thrusting, his hands roamed slowly up the sides of her body, settling around her ribcage just under her breasts, and he found himself vaguely worried about leaving his handprints on her skin from the strength of his grip around her body. So he let his hands run over the tops of her shoulders and down around her arms, leaning his body onto hers and pulling her into him even harder. She moaned desperately as he continued to penetrate her while holding her body down with his own body weight, panting rhythmically again and again until he finally climaxed, quivering and spurting hotly into her. In his momentary exhaustion, his head drooped onto the space between her shoulder blades, and he planted one more breathless kiss onto her skin before finishing with one last round of slower, deliberate thrusts to coax out every last sexy moan and shiver from her—his gorgeous wife who pleasured him so effortlessly, and who derived just as much pleasure from him. And when he felt her orgasming around him, he gripped the sheets next to her own hands and clenched his teeth, tilting his head back to surrender to her power.

They finally collapsed on the bed, panting heavily, with him cuddling her from behind again as she curled up in a fetal position on her side. He pulled her in close, sliding his hand around her front and caressing her between her legs at a languid pace. He pressed his fading erection against the small of her back, leaving an unapologetic smudge of her wetness mixed with his milky white seed.

"This is quite the honeymoon," Petra murmured with a teasing smile over her shoulder at him.

"I'm glad you're having fun," he said with an equal smirk.

"But really, though," she continued, "if I were a fruit… which one would I be?"

"You're still going on about fruit?" he groaned, and he doubled down on his rubbing, eliciting another pleasured sigh from her.

"Come on. What do I look like?" She pushed her head back to press his nose to her neck. "What do I smell like?"

He ran his lips and the tip of his nose indulgently along the length of her neck, from the base of her neck to the base of her scalp. "You're… a strawberry. 'Cause you're strawberry blonde."

She giggled as he tickled her neck with the gentle brushing of his lips.

"Am I a soapy strawberry?"

"No… just a sexy one." And he continued exploring slowly around her clit with his pointer and middle fingers, drawing out a quivering exhale from her lips.

"Good—answer—ohhh—" she squeaked.

A loud knock on the door made their eyes snap open.

"30 minutes left!" the voice called out.

"Shit," Levi groaned, propping himself up on his elbow. "Bath time, and then it's over…."

"I wish we could stay," Petra admitted. "If I break every bone in your body, will you stay forever?"

"Just leave this one alone," he said, sliding her hand down behind her to touch his penis. "And I won't complain…."

She rolled over to kiss him on the lips as she slid her own fingers down his stomach and caressed him down there, just a little bit….

"Leave this alone?" she asked him, her voice heavy with suggestion. "Are you sure you want that…?"

He groaned again, breathing in her neck.

"You know I was kidding, right?" she murmured between kisses. "I want you to stay—healthy and strong—so next time, we can do this again—and again…."

He clutched her tightly to him by the arms and gazed longingly into her eyes.

"That's what I'm planning on."

He sat up to gather her sexy, sweaty body in his sinewed arms, and he stood up from the bed, carrying her all the way over to the bathroom door, prying the door open with his foot, and lowering her into the steaming tub of water. He scattered the bucket of rose petals over the surface of the aromatic water and waded in to join her. She drew the water over her collarbones and turned around to wet her hair. He leaned forward and dipped his own face into the water, sleeking it over the back of his head to wet his hair and the back of his neck as well.

"Your father definitely cannot know we were here," he said. He pulled her in close, turning her to face away from him, and he took the shampoo bar from the side of the tub to lather up her hair.

She chuckled and nodded, taking the bar from him and reaching up to lather up his hair and scalp in return. He bent his head down and briefly dunked his face into the water, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and slicking it back with his hand as he resurfaced.

"Well," Petra began, "I know you think he's a gigantic prude, but, you know, he also did marry my redheaded mother…." She cleared her throat, as if to imply something.

"What do you mean?"

And she giggled again, setting the shampoo bar back down and trading it for a soap bar. "Haven't you heard that one before? 'Redheads love sex'! Or at least, that's just what they say…."

She bent her head back to look him in the eye upside-down. He gazed back down at her, smirking as his eyes followed the soap bar in her hand as she rubbed it on her chest and around her submerged breasts as she lay on her back in the water; he extended his arms to keep her body from sinking too deep underwater, resulting in her head almost laying in his lap.

"I guess they say that for a reason," he concluded, bending down to kiss her upside-down and supporting her head underwater with his hand. When he opened his eyes, her breasts were poking up from the water surface, full and rounded and swelling with her growing motherhood. But even though it did feel wrong, now that he was considering the baby behind her cup size, he could not help but stare at the temptation lustfully anyway…. He started to wonder where the soap had gone, and he realized that she was now holding it between her legs, soaping herself up under the water with both hands as he cradled her upper body in his arms. He felt another round of arousal stirring in between his own legs, with the beginnings of another erection hardening and lengthening himself underwater.

She sat back up and let the water run out of her hair, jarring the stimulating view out of his sight. He reached out for her, pulling her in close from behind so she was sitting with her back to him; their knees jutted up from the water's surface as he embraced her from behind, holding her around her shoulders. She turned her head to one side to gaze at him from her peripheral vision and pulled her dripping wet hair out away from her face.

"I'm a soapy strawberry now, huh?"

He gave a tight-lipped smile. "You're wearing nothing but bubbles… that's still sexy in my book…."

She nodded once. "Mmm, I must be the only strawberry that gets you dirtier instead of cleaner…."

"You're the only one I like getting dirty over." He slid his hand up the front of her neck to hold her face in one hand and turn her towards him for another slow, passionate kiss. They moaned quietly into each other's mouths, and desire overtook them yet again—just one last time, while they still had time….

He stood them both up and bent her over the side of the bathtub, positioning her hands on the rim, and she moaned again as she pushed her backside up against his quickly-lengthening erection. In response, he stood behind her, slid his hands up her belly to hold around her breasts, and pulled her into his penetrating thrust. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut at the sensation of him beginning to move inside her, growing the rest of the way in size while already thrusting, as he clutched her tightly to him and she gripped the rim of the bathtub with all of her strength.

They heard another knock at the door to the main room, and a voice called out, "15 minutes!"

He breathed heavily into her hair and began thrusting faster in response. She cried out as her pleasure also climbed higher and more rapidly now, and they soon were orgasming sharply and intensely—first his, then hers not long after while he continued to thrust a little more slowly to ride themselves back down.

The rose petal-studded water in the tub was completely cloudy by the time they sank back down into it, obscuring their bodies underneath it. She blushed and shyly tucked her damp, strawberry blonde hair behind her ear with one hand as she slid her other hand under the water and between her legs to clean herself one final time. He sighed, admitting to himself that even good things came to an end. And he decided to be thankful that they had managed to make an unforgettable afternoon getaway out of an otherwise heartbreaking day.

Back at home, Petra's parents were already there ahead of them and settling in to prepare dinner. Her father came out to the tiny foyer to greet them while her mother stayed in the kitchen.

"Why is your hair wet…?" her father asked them, eyeing Levi suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, it drizzled a little bit on the way home," Petra explained quickly. And she turned to busy herself in the kitchen to help out her mother to put an end to any further questioning.

"It drizzled quite a bit," Levi confirmed to her father. "Luckily we both have pretty short hair…."

Mr. Ral cleared his throat.

"It sure did…. Well, good thing it'll be dinnertime soon," he concluded. "It won't do to run out of gas in the tank, if you know what I mean…." And he gave Levi two little pats on the side of the shoulder. "I have a kid of my own, Captain. I know," he chuckled. "But I appreciate the effort."

Levi felt his face grow hot as Mr. Ral walked away into the kitchen to join his women. But as embarrassing as it was, Levi was at least also thankful that her father seemed to have finally come around to accepting him….

Back at the barracks in Trost at the end of the day, Levi and Miche chanced upon each other outside of their Captain's quarters, which were right next to each other. They nodded taciturnly to greet each other and Miche turned to unlock the door to his room, and Levi's eyes narrowed when he spied something very suspicious: a single red rose petal clinging to the back of Miche's jacket collar.

"You have something on your collar," Levi blurted out, staring at him to gauge his reaction.

Miche craned his head around and noticed the rose petal, then plucked it off and crumpled it into his hand.

"Hm," he muttered. "I wonder how that got there…."

They stared pointedly at each other, as if silently saying, "I won't tell if you won't…."

And Levi unlocked his own door and let himself in, smirking uncontrollably to himself as the door swung shut behind him.

Chapter 16: Refugees

Summary:

Petra journeys into Levi's past, reopening old wounds while suffering through new trials.

Notes:

I'm giving TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter for implied sexual assault, refugee displacement, and starvation. Please take good care of yourself if these topics greatly affect you and you decide to read this chapter. I apologize in advance for publishing this during the Holiday Season, and I hope it doesn't ruin anybody's enjoyment of real-life festivities. If you need your entertainment these days to be angst- and trauma-free, I recommend postponing reading this fic until the New Year. This chapter is not Grave of the Fireflies-level of traumatic, but I got sad writing it, so I figured I'd warn you that it is sad.

I keep on forgetting to mention it, but in case any of you use Tumblr and wanted to follow me there, my Tumblr name is neverdonegrowing (surprise surprise; that's why I changed from RinaLee to what it is now, for consistency's sake). I seem to post roughly 95% Rivetra stuff (mostly reblogs from other people, but every now and then I'll mention an original thought).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Soundtrack Recommendations:

"lost in the memory: playback" – Shiro Sagisu (Evangelion 3.0+1.0 OST)

"Wonderwall" – Ryan Adams

On the morning that the Survey Corps went to Stohess, Petra received a package delivered to the Rals' doorstep: a letter from Levi, a canister of lavender tea, and a jar of cream to keep the skin on her belly supple and minimize stretch marks. She was genuinely touched that he had only departed yesterday evening, but he had already put together a package of gifts for her—and for no reason other than because he wanted to. Because he loved her.

Alone now in the private sanctum of her attic room, Petra curled up on the head of her bed while she opened his letter. And she read it slowly, taking her time:

Dear Petra,

I'm writing this from my room (back to the Captain's Quarters) after getting back from our honeymoon. I wish I could have stayed there with you forever, but even good things come to an end. I miss you already, but I hope you don't miss me too much. Carry on with your life, take care of yourself, be good to your parents, and find people to hang out with who are less likely to die on you than I am. I know I promise you every time I see you that I'll be back, but sometimes I still get so fucking scared that I won't be able to (like what happened to Eld). And in case I really can't come back, I want you to be able to move on. As much as I hate the thought of another guy raising our baby and knocking you up with one of his own, life's too short to spend it heartbroken over me.

She stopped reading after the first paragraph for a brief spell, feeling uneasy at his turn for the morbid. Captain Levi, so famously fearless in battle, was out there fighting harder than ever to survive for her, but on late candlelit nights spent writing to her, he was afraid of death—of being separated from her. Was that weakness or strength? Maybe a little bit of both. And did that mean he had never been afraid of death until she came into his life? And what's more, the thought of her remarrying and having another child with a second husband? She hated the thought of that just as much as he did.

I love you so damn much, it hurts. Sometimes I can't sleep; sometimes I can't even breathe. I want you to live a long and happy life, but I'm a selfish bastard, too: I want you to live that life with me. I hope I can give you everything you could ever need or want. I don't know what my life would be without you, and I'll fight like hell to keep you safe.

Please wait for me (and don't let any assholes hit on you while I'm gone). Forget that shit I just said about me dying. You know I'll be back.

-Levi

At this, she felt comforted at his normal voice returning: crudely-worded and genuine, rough on the ears but gently embracing her heart. He loved her and cared for her, and he wanted to be by her side. She didn't need to hear anything more than that.

PS – You were right about Miche and Nanaba! I caught that idiot with a rose petal stuck to his jacket. But you didn't hear it from me.

And Petra burst into a fit of giggles, at least able to feel relieved that his sudden streak of pessimism had not ruined his sense of humor. She leaned her head back against her bedroom wall, letting her eyes drift upward to the low ceiling. She supposed that it was indeed natural for couples like her and Levi to compare themselves to other couples around them—who was still keeping it a secret, and how those other couples seemed to be doing compared to them.

"I guess we really did start something," she murmured out loud to the air. "But… Eld wanted him and Astrid to be more like us, and he died…."

And she hung her head in renewed despair, feeling more powerless than ever to sit by and wait for news—public announcements and letters. After all, people were always dying in the Survey Corps: it was just a matter of who, and when.

With no guarantees when Levi would return, and her body adjusting to the demands of pregnancy, Petra decided that starting that day, she would join her parents at the shop. Levi had told her in his letter to keep herself occupied, and she admitted that listlessly scanning through her pregnancy book was starting to get stale. Her parents insisted that she forgo all heavy lifting and simply greet customers at the door and ring up their purchases, and she was content with that.

However, the turmoil within the Walls continued far too soon: Captain Levi and the rest of the Survey Corps executed their operation in Stohess District that very day, and the following early morning in the dark before daybreak, an urgent pounding on the front door to their house struck an anxious chord in the three Rals' hearts. Petra sat up in bed at once and shoved her feet in her slippers, unwilling to prolong the agony for a moment longer than necessary.

Petra had a feeling that it wasn't Levi on the other side—and that meant hurrying to the door to find out who, and why. A Military Police officer stood on the other side of the candlelight in Petra's hand, sweating at his hairline and fighting to maintain a calm composure.

"Titans have been spotted in southern Wall Rose. The Wall may have a breach," he said in a pressured tone. "You are ordered to evacuate immediately to an emergency shelter in Wall Sina. Take your identification papers and minimal possessions."

And a mere minute later, Petra and her parents were unceremoniously dragged out the door in their pajamas with their identification papers in hand and a handful of hurriedly uprooted carrots stuffed in Mr. Ral's pants pockets. All three of them had shoved sweaters (or in Petra's case, her hunter green hoodie in the same shade as a military cloak) on over their nightclothes, but Petra and her mother were sadly forced to walk the streets in their nightgowns, their legs only lightly covered by the fabric of their skirts and bloomers. They huddled together holding hands as they walked briskly towards the inner Gate to Wall Rose among innumerous other hastily dressed families, and towards the transport ferries waiting for them on the other side.

Petra leaned into her father's side and asked in a hushed mumble, "Father, what if you get in trouble for smuggling food?"

"It's a Titan invasion. We should do what we can to fend for ourselves," he insisted. "And we're all out of apples."

Petra then thought about the fall of Wall Maria: the last time the government ran out of food for the people. And their strategy then had been to cull the population when people started to starve. So, for a long, long time since then, every time she sat down to eat—whether it be a field ration biscuit during a long Scouting mission, or a proper meal with bread and vegetables—she was reminded of how many people (including her own grandparents) had been sacrificed so she could eat and keep on living. Although food was a humble thing, it was ultimately the most important thing in the world.

"Looks like we're going off on another adventure," her father scoffed in his attempt to add some levity to the situation. "And probably another overnight stay…."

"I wonder if Captain Levi will be paying us another visit," her mother murmured, grinning to Petra as they briskly walked in tandem.

Petra sighed. "He has an injured leg, remember? I doubt he'll be running around that much…."

"Sweetie, I don't think that would even stop him from dropping by in normal times, let alone in another emergency," she pointed out in wry amusement.

The Rals rode one of the passenger ferries down the river towards the innermost Wall, crammed onto the deck with scores of other anxious residents. And when they disembarked past the inner Gate of Ehrmich District, more MPs were shepherding them through the main road cutting through Wall Sina, and they shuffled along with the flow of the crowd for untold hours as daybreak came and passed into the full light of morning and on into noontime. And finally, the stone walls of Mitras approached, they were ushered through one last Gate into the most central city within the Walls, and an entrance off the cobblestone street that descended with a flight of steps—to the Underground. Through this claustrophobic hole lit only by torches burning on the walls, Petra felt her world closing in, like climbing down into a tunnel without knowing what she would find on the other end. But on the other end lay a humongous cavern that expanded upward and around in every direction as far as she could see, supported by luminescent pillars carved out of the rock that surrounded them.

"I must be psychic," her father chuckled, taking in the sight above them. "You know, carrots help you see better in the dark."

Petra stifled a tiny chuckle with a hand over her mouth. And as she gazed up past the crystal columns glowing from within, the enormous ceiling above them was equal parts vast and claustrophobic—a great expanse that nevertheless had its limit, not unlike the territory within the Walls that they called home.

She thought to herself that she was in the very place that Levi was from: born, raised, and grown in this Underground City, unlike herself and her parents, who were forced visitors of this place. Intruders on the people who called this place home—dank and miasmic, choking to the senses, but the only place these people were allowed to live in. Because although her clothing was plain and humble, she had a jewelry box at home, filled over years of careful saving and strategic spending. And she had papers proving her "Surface citizenship" that Underground people lacked. Without those papers, she and they were all equal human beings, having to learn to live with each other—and anyone without those papers would not be allowed to leave this place, no matter how much they wanted to.

As a fresh sense of unease stirred inside her, she instinctively slid her hand into the front pocket of her hoodie, feeling for her identification papers folded up securely inside. This was the ticket to return to her normal life above ground, and she endeavored to guard it as fiercely as possible—at least without sacrificing life and limb, should it come to that….

I wonder if he even knows I'm here, she thought. What would he say if he knew? Would he go down here to find me, just to see me again—even if it's hard for him to travel back in time?

After three days and nights, the Rals were as restless as anyone else around them. In the Underground, there was no sun or moon to mark the passing of the days and nights. The only meaningful way they had to mark the passage of time was the daily pounding on the door of their living quarters ordering them to get in line for a small loaf of bread and a refill of beer of their aluminum mugs they each had been allotted. The taste of simple fresh water faded quickly from her memory with every sip of lager—beer kept far better in long-term storage kegs, and it was all they were going to get. At night, she huddled next to her parents under the one scratchy woolen blanket they had to share (just one per family), stuffed in next to so many others in one room that nobody had any space to even lie down to rest. While she slept, she put her hood up for warmth and stuffed her hands in her hoodie pocket, curling her fingers around her identification papers—just in case. But during the day, her mother wore the blanket over her shoulders like a shawl for safekeeping, and Petra wore her hood down in the hopes that Levi would find her more easily if he could see her distinctive hair….

And at around midday on the fourth day, when the Rals were standing in the food line stretching as far back as the eye could see and zigzagging in from between buildings, Petra heard that familiar, deep growl from behind her say:

"Oi. Petra."

And when she turned her head, there stood Levi at the side of the line with his hands in his pockets, wearing a rucksack on his back, a loose-fitting brown cloak with the hood down at his shoulders, a black dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned and his sleeves pushed up, black pants and belt, and black shoes. He crossed his arms over his chest and heaved a sigh at having found her at last, and she could not help but linger on his well-muscled forearms as if drawn to them like magnets. But jarring her out of her appreciative gazing, a man standing in line behind them called out to them, "Hey. No cutting in line."

"This is my wife," Levi told the man over his shoulder. "I'm just talking to her."

And the man grumbled very audibly, "Bullshit. Where the hell are those damn lackeys when you need them?" He gave a petulant frown and started casting his gaze around, searching for some semblance of law enforcement in the area. He did not seem to have anyone else with him; he stood alone with his arms crossed in indignation, grumpily fending for himself.

"Relax," Levi muttered to the man. "I'll let you go ahead of me when we're at the front."

The man snorted. "Huh. Whatever."

"No uniform?" Petra asked once Levi had come to a stop right in front of her and reached out to hold her hands. Her parents silently watched them over their shoulders, smiling, and he gave a curt nod to them in acknowledgment.

"Off duty," he explained simply. "Being injured seems to be the only way anyone gets time off these days."

She took a good look at him up and down, drinking in the rare sight of him in civilian clothing. The dress shirt and pants looked especially flattering on a man of his physique….

"I told you to get that shirt," she said smugly. "Remember?"

"That's right." And he cracked a tiny smirk. "How do I look?"

He reached his hands out for hers, grasping her fingers and rubbing his thumb along the glowing, ice blue stone of her engagement ring. In response, she wiggled her fingers in his hand, gazing into his eyes.

"Black really does suit you. You're the best-looking guy here."

He gave a little scoff in disbelief, but nevertheless seemed pleased to hear it.

"And if more than half the population in the Walls is here, then that's saying something," she said, grinning.

He gave a smirk and glanced down at her ring, then back up at her with a more serious expression on his face now.

"It would be better to hide this ring while you're down here," he said. "Someone might cut your finger off to steal it while you're sleeping."

She gasped. "What? Are people that barbaric down here?"

He nodded grimly. "I would know; I was one of them, you know."

So he pulled her hands in to rest on his chest as he embraced her, and she pursed her lips as he surreptitiously wiggled the ring off her finger and closed his fist around it as he kissed her on the ear.

"I've been sleeping with my hands in my pocket," she assured him. "Nobody could even see the ring in there…."

"I'll give it back to you the next time I see you," he told her quietly in her ear. "I can't die until I give it back to you."

"You're not allowed to die at all," she growled, tightening her fingers around the tops of his shoulders. She gazed intensely into his eyes, touching her forehead to his.

"I won't," he sighed. "It was just a joke…."

"You there," a gruff male voice boomed out.

With their moment now irreversibly disturbed, Levi and Petra turned their heads to see two male Military Police officers standing with their hands on their hips and their rifles slung over their shoulders.

"Can we help you?" Levi asked, his annoyance barely concealed behind the sharpness in his retort.

"We got a report of a line-cutter, and now this." The officer pointed at both of them. "No making out in public, for God's sake. This isn't a goddamn exhibition…." As the last word left his lips, he glanced down at the knee-length hem of Petra's nightgown poking out under her hoodie. Her cheeks flushed and she urgently reached down with her free hand to press the extra air out of her skirt to gain a little more coverage around her kneecaps, but this also inadvertently molded the fabric more tightly around her thighs. None of this went unnoticed by Levi, who gripped more tightly around her other hand and glared mercilessly at their scrutinizers, practically baring his teeth at them.

"We were just hugging, officers," Petra said, still blushing as she stared at her feet. "We apologize…."

Levi gave an impatient huff. "Yeah, can't I hug my own wife in public anymore?"

The MP on the left narrowed his eyes and said, "I don't appreciate that attitude."

His gaze drifted to Levi's closed fist hanging at his side.

"What's that in your hand?"

Levi sighed in frustration and opened his palm before them to reveal the ring. "It's an engagement ring. Again: this is my wife." And he closed his fist around it again.

Petra wet her lips nervously and explained, "He was going to hold onto it so nobody here could steal it from me."

"And who's to say that someone won't just steal it from him instead?"

"'Cause I'll fuck them up if they try," Levi snapped.

"What kind of way to talk is that?" The MP on the right pointed a stern finger at Levi's chest. "You clean that mouth of yours when talking to a police officer."

Levi gave him a glare of matching unfriendliness. "You talk just as dirty as I do, but I'm the one with the dirty mouth?"

The MP on the left tapped a finger to his chin while looking Levi up and down.

"You know, you're well-dressed enough, but you talk just like these Underground people. Where'd you get the clothes from?"

Levi's mouth hung partway open. "I bought them with my own money, except she recommended I get the shirt in black. If you must know the details."

And he gave a quick glance around at all the people crowded in and spectating, then he looked back at the officers.

"Can I just show you my papers so you can write my name down and get on with it?"

"Levi," Petra told him in a cautious voice. "This isn't the time to be confrontational..."

"They're targeting me for bullshit reasons, and ogling your legs, and I'm supposed to just roll over?" He turned to the MPs again and started reaching down towards his butt pocket. "Here, let me just show you already—"

Both officers suddenly flipped their rifles to point them squarely at Levi.

"Do not put your hands in your pockets. Hands up. Prove to us that you're not armed." The MP on the right gave a quick head jerk to his partner and said, "Pat him down real quick."

"You gotta be fucking joking," he snarled, clenching his teeth as the officers pulled him towards the nearest wall and pressed his hands up against it. One of them pulled his rucksack off his back and overturned it, vigorously shaking it until a full waterskin, a couple of field ration biscuits wrapped in wax paper, and two pieces of flint tumbled out onto the dusty ground. Petra and her parents all left the line at once and followed right behind them, looking on helplessly. Levi clenched his fist around the ring in his right hand, his knuckles shaking and turning white with the tightness of his grip while he gritted his teeth through the officers' overly rough searching along every inch of his body, including around his groin. They noted the knife holster at his thigh holding a six-inch-long hunting knife and raised their eyebrows.

"That knife alone is excessively long for normal civilian use," one of them remarked. "The only way we're letting you off the hook now is if you happen to be a hunter or active-duty military…." And he glanced down at the biscuits, which civilians would not normally have, either.

The other officer wrested Levi's folded identification papers from his butt pocket and unfolded it. His eyes refocused and did a double-take at the paper, at Levi, then back to the paper.

"You're Captain Levi? Of the Survey Corps?" The officer ran his thumb over the embossed "Wings of Freedom" emblem in the corner.

Levi groaned, "No shit. And no, I didn't forge the papers. Now, are we done here?"

The two MPs saluted in unison, pursing their lips in their discomfort.

"Yes, Captain!" one blurted out.

The other one stammered, "Our—our apologies, Captain!"

And the two men awkwardly handed his empty rucksack back to him and hurried away in embarrassment. Hushed murmurs rippled outward through the packed crowd: "Captain Levi's here" and "Captain Levi's here?"

Petra knelt to the ground at once and gathered up his items for him again. He muttered a quick "thanks" and opened his rucksack for her to drop the waterskin and biscuits back in and tuck the flint into a side pocket. And try as she might, she could not shake the troubled looks they shared as he slung his rucksack back over his shoulders and slipped her ring into his pants pocket once and for all.

For Petra, the run-in with the MPs was an unexpected lesson in what prejudice felt like. The discrimination based on one's origins that Levi still faced when he dared to appear in public wearing nice civilian clothing. Even the tailored clothes he wore looked stolen when he wore them—at least, to the judgmental eye who did not recognize him as someone of importance. And to think that he had had no other choice but to live in this place for more than twenty years...

"Why don't we all just—get back in line," Mrs. Ral proposed, a tense frown on her lips.

"Yes, let's," Mr. Ral said, and he ushered Petra ahead of him to join her mother. And for a long, hard moment, he looked at his son-in-law with a mixture of pity and perceptiveness in his eyes.

"You're a hothead, Captain," Mr. Ral began, "but at least you're humble enough. No blurting out to the world, 'Don't you know who I am?' like some people might have said."

"I'm sorry, sir," Levi muttered, feeling embarrassed now at his poor self-control in front of his father-in-law. "I'm not very good at shutting my mouth when people hassle me." He paused, momentarily considering whether to say what was at the tip of his tongue, but he decided to say it: "Or her."

But Mr. Ral gave him a reassuring smile and patted him on the shoulder. "Well, if it helps: I agreed with you. I think we all did."

Levi turned to look at Mr. Ral's hand squeezing his shoulder and gave a tiny smile.

"Thank you for being here," he told Levi. "As much as I would like to believe that my daughter can handle herself around men with ill intentions… I'd much rather she never has to."

Levi gave him a curt dip of his head. Mr. Ral heaved a sigh, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

"You know, when you first sent her home to us, we hadn't met you yet; we didn't know what kind of man you really were. And I thought that maybe you were one of those men, taking advantage of my daughter…."

And Levi grew still, frozen in wariness at this unexpected confession.

"But I've never been more relieved to have been proven wrong."

Mr. Ral gazed around, taking in the enormity of the cavern ceiling above, and the myriad buildings stretching upwards towards it, carved directly out of the rock.

"In a way, I'm glad we got to go here—see where you came from," Mr. Ral continued. "I can see how this place must have molded you, for you to be like this. Standing up for yourself—by lashing out at people."

And Levi nodded, letting his head drop to nearly touch his chest. He was starting to consciously realize how being back Underground was already causing him to regress emotionally to who he was when he had first left for the Surface. Being harassed by the MPs forcibly reminded him of being subdued by Miche and Erwin and being taken into the Survey Corps. And now Miche was Missing in Action—which everyone knew meant either "presumed dead" or "couldn't bring back the body". What must it be like to die alone, vanishing into thin air to everyone who knew you? Was this a glimpse of the fate that awaited him as well? To simply never come home? To always be a mystery to those he would leave behind?

Mr. Ral crossed his arms sternly for perhaps the first time Levi had seen.

"But you don't have to be who you were in the past. You can be different now. So, don't be this risky with authority figures. Please."

And his countenance grew stormy with the thought of everything his family had to lose if they were to lose Levi.

"You have more than your own life at stake, if some cocky MP decides to pull the trigger on you for being cocky in return."

As Mr. Ral drifted away to rejoin his women in the line, Levi sighed quietly and watched the Rals regroup, feeling the rushing blood in his ears subsiding at the thought of Mr. Ral's words. Petra gave an inquisitive look over at him, as if asking when he would come back over—Petra, the mother of his child slumbering there in her growing belly. So he took his place back by her side. She gave him a bright smile as if nothing was wrong, reaching out a hand for his again. And as he accepted her hand, and her love, he wondered to himself if he would ever truly be deserving of a woman this good.

At the front of the food line, the Rals finally received their daily rations of bread and tepid beer from the MPs unloading inventory from one of their three enormous storage containers. Levi noted that the container currently open and being unloaded was heavily guarded with MPs armed with ODM gear and flintlock rifles in every potential entry point, including roving MPs on top of the structure. He wryly wondered to himself whether they were more worried about an intrusion from Surface people or Underground people….

And curiously enough, one of the containers in the back seemed to have fewer sentries around it, and the MPs guarding it also seemed to be noticeably less attentive than their colleagues guarding the other two containers: they joked frequently between themselves and paid more attention to each other than what the crowd around them was doing. The implication was unmistakable to him:

If I had to guess… the container in the back is already empty. After three days here, they should be one-third of the way through their rations. And it makes sense that they wouldn't be invested at all in guarding it, since there's probably nothing in there worth stealing anymore….

But he was soon pulled out of his analysis by Petra shaking his sleeve and giving him a pointed look. She already had a bread loaf balanced on the top of her mug, as did both her parents. The three Rals unanimously insisted that Levi get a serving of his own while he was with them, and he gave a wan smile and held out his hand for food and a mug of beer. Then they hurried away from the crowd as much as possible and took Levi to their living quarters: one of the aging stone houses in the maze of dwellings, shared with twenty other families spread out over three one-room floors, connected by a zigzagging stairway up to the open rooftop. He hurriedly ate his bread as Petra pulled him along by the sleeve, tearing off pieces with his teeth, and by the time they had arrived at their housing quarters, he was already almost half done with his loaf.

"Twenty other families? In just this one apartment?" he asked for clarification between bites. "Tch. It wasn't even this cramped when I lived around here…."

"What can you do?" Mr. Ral sighed. "At least each family gets one blanket to wrap around ourselves…."

"And I told them that Petra's pregnant so they would put us on the ground floor," Mrs. Ral added.

Levi paused. "What about toilets?" And he popped one last tiny bite of bread into his mouth, then pocketed the remaining half-loaf to save for later. Petra's parents seemed to notice this, and they looked up at him in acknowledgement. He gave them a tiny nod and looked away.

Petra heaved a sigh this time. "For toilets… there's a little room with a wooden plank with a hole, and a barrel underneath. And a wooden lid that swings down over it."

He crossed his arms. "It's good that there's a lid," he noted drily.

She glanced at him, frowning. "You're already done with your food?" And she dipped her head to take her first bite of her miniature loaf.

"Yeah." He wiggled one hand that his mug dangled from. "Drank the beer, too."

Her parents smiled to themselves.

"Have you ever had perfectly good food stolen right outta your hands?" he asked the Rals in general. "'Cause I have. But if you at least got a couple bites in, then it wasn't a total loss."

"Gee… you're right," Petra said. "I'll eat while I walk next time, then."

He shrugged. "Just realize that you become less aware of your surroundings when you do it. I felt better about doing it just now 'cause the rest of you were here. But if I was alone, I might not have eaten that much of it before getting here."

And she started to chuckle. "Okay, then, I'll just take one or two bites to get my dirty spit all over it, and then maybe they'll leave me alone." She opened her jaws wide and crunched into the hard shell of the bread, taking off a chunk larger than the capacity of her mouth.

"Petra, you don't need to eat like a barbarian just 'cause we're refugees," Mrs. Ral huffed.

"A barbarian? More like a Titan," Mr. Ral joked before sinking his own teeth into his bread.

The utterance of the word 'Titan' cast a grim feeling over them all, conjuring a renewed darkness in Levi's eyes. Petra turned to him and asked him quietly:

"Speaking of which… what's really going on up there?"

He was silent as he started analyzing what to say—if anything.

"Are there really Titans in Wall Rose?" she continued to press. "Is there really a breach in the Wall?"

He knelt and set his mug down on the floor next to the wall. And when he stood back up, he reached for her hand.

"Maybe I just wanted to live out the last days of humanity with you," he added in a half-serious tone. He took her hand in his and pulled her towards him.

"And the Titans?"

Her parents shuffled uneasily, recognizing that she was pressing him for information that they probably were not privy to.

"Why don't you two go outside?" Mrs. Ral suggested at last. "The less we know, the easier it will be for both of you, maybe…."

Levi nodded at Mrs. Ral, thankful for her intervention before he had to step in and exclude them from a confidential conversation yet again.

"Thanks," he told her. "I'll bring her back in a while…."

But before Levi could guide Petra away to the door, Mrs. Ral turned, took the half-loaves that she and Mr. Ral had left over on their laps, and slipped them into Petra's waiting hands. Levi's brow furrowed at the matter-of-factness with which she did it; he surmised that they had been doing this every day since they had arrived Underground.

Petra's eyes fell to the bread in her hands, looking as guilty as a thief.

"Thank you, Mother… Father…."

Mr. and Mrs. Ral smiled sadly at their daughter.

"Take your time," Mrs. Ral said with a nod of reassurance. "I'm sure you have plenty of catching up to do…."

Levi and Petra made their way up the staircase, peeking to see if the other families on the upper floors were there, and to their dismay, the second floor and the third floor on the roof were already full of people huddled together on the dusty floor—eating, sipping their beer, and barely bothering to look up to see who was intruding on them, so accustomed they already were to having no privacy in their daily existence here.

"Let's go back down, then," Petra sighed. "Maybe if we lean against the outside wall or something…?"

Levi felt more and more claustrophobic the further they wandered in search of some much-needed privacy. The alleyways were full of people sitting or standing around, bored and anxious, chattering with each other or slumped against the walls in silence. Levi and Petra could barely take a step without running into someone: Surface citizens who had dragged themselves out of bed in their pajamas like the Rals had, or Underground residents whose pitifully unbathed stink washed over every passerby. The Underground people who had housing would at least tend to be decently clothed (even if certain articles of clothing did not quite fit right), and they would move about in daytime with some degree of purposefulness. But it was the homeless ones dressed in tatters who slept all day, curled up in alleyways or doorways to abandoned buildings, only lifting their heads when the chittering of bats overhead awakened them to the dangers of the night. And Levi remembered all too well what it was like to be all of them at some point in his own life.

The sight of all the people in their differing circumstances brought innumerable memories and emotions back to the forefront of Levi's mind—like a nightmare long forgotten but conjured back to life to weigh him down once more. But it had never been this crowded in the Underground City for as far back as Levi could remember. And even then, there had never been quite enough provisions to go around….

"So far, they did one sweep of the whole inner side of the Wall and they didn't find a breach," he told her finally as they continued walking. "They're in the middle of checking again."

"Then are we free to go home? Is it safe up there already?"

His face was set. "We can't be sure. The circumstances of the Titans appearing mean… well, we can't ensure anyone's safety if they go back up there."

An anxious pallor fell over Petra's face; her eyes wandered back down to the front pouch of her hoodie, now bulging full to bursting with bread.

"Is it really that unsafe out there?" she asked. "What the hell is really going on?" After a long pause, she pulled out a half-loaf of bread and started to gnaw on a jagged edge of crust to occupy herself with.

Levi pursed his lips as he glanced aside to watch her eat. "Do you remember Conny? The kid who buzz cuts his hair?"

She nodded as she chewed.

"He's from Ragako—same as Nanaba."

As soon as her name left his lips, he was beset by another pang of anguish, for she had died, too, just a day ago. When was the right time to tell Petra about Nanaba—and Miche?

"Everyone who was in Ragako Village yesterday turned into Abnormal Titans," Levi continued. "They can move around at night, and they seem to be controlled by Titan Shifters—people who can turn into Titans. Like Eren. And Reiner… Bertholdt… Annie…."

Petra gave a quiet gasp. "People? Turned into Titans… by other people?" And she stopped to recall the faces to connect with the names he had just mentioned—Reiner and Bertholdt, teenagers in the cemetery, standing solemnly shoulder-to-shoulder with the comrades she knew well, honoring the dead that they themselves had killed….

"Those kids infiltrated the Cadet Corps, then joined the Survey Corps? They did this?"

He sighed. "Yeah. And some other bastard still wandering around out there, all covered in fur like a monkey Titan."

He scowled in disgust at the mere thought of it. He hadn't even seen it with his own two eyes, but the reports told him everything he needed to know. And he hung his head.

"We don't know how they turn humans into Titans, though—which means it could potentially happen again." His voice came out in a murmur of anguish, and his gaze fell to his feet, still doggedly taking step after step without his conscious thought.

Petra nodded slowly and lowered her mug from her lips as the realization dawned on her: "That means until you guys find every single one of those Titan Shifters and stop them... the rest of us will have to be down here? Waiting for you?"

He let another sigh slip from his lips. "That... I can't say."

"You don't know?" she pressed him. "Or you just can't say?"

Levi said nothing but turned his head to look her in the eyes, where she read the meaning there: distraught, uncertain.

"You know there's only so much food stockpiled here," he muttered in a low voice. "When that runs out… they'll have to make a choice."

She swallowed her bite of bread and closed her eyes to think. "You don't think they'll sacrifice people again, like before…?"

His voice continued softly in her ear, "I'm going to guess that they'll send you all back up. Whether it's really safe or not."

She opened her eyes wide, staring at him. They were both standing still amongst the crowd around them, being slightly buffeted here and there by passerby.

"They might let you die by sending you back up there. But they also might let you kill each other by leaving you down here." He stared stonily back at her. "Nowhere is really safe anymore… it just depends on what kind of risk you're willing to live with."

An anxious frown knitted her brows.

"Every Titan is a human inside?" she asked quietly. "And every human is also a Titan inside...?"

To this, he gave a tacit nod and let the thought hang heavily between them.

"Everyone's a monster on the inside," he concluded at last. "It's just a matter of what it will take to bring the monster out."

He took a step and glanced over his shoulder to beckon her to keep moving, and she heaved a sigh and trotted over, looping her arm around his.

"By the way," he added, "if you don't remember meeting Annie… she joined the MPs. And she was that Female Titan—the one that killed my squad."

Petra grew even more subdued, and she, too, stared at her feet swimming through the crowd of other people's feet milling around them. She was too overwhelmed with shock to have anything left to say.

After some wandering aimlessly along while Levi pulled Petra by the arm as she nibbled away at her bread loaf, Levi regained a purposefulness and started to direct her towards somewhere in particular—a flight of forking steps, branching into opposite directions halfway up, leading towards a multi-story building on either side. Nobody was hanging around, so he guided them over to the steps and took a seat, and she did the same. Their legs were almost touching as they sat next to each other, looking out over the sea of people a few mere steps below them.

"Look," he said, tilting his chin upward towards the building on his right. "That's where my friends and I used to live. I'm sure other people moved in since we left, though."

She nodded thoughtfully and took a quiet swig of her beer, then slid the last of her bread into her mouth. He grew pensive as he sat, staring at the doorway of his former home.

"Have you ever... seen someone from the future?" he asked, his voice sounding distant.

She warily glanced sideways at him. "No… what do you mean?"

He continued, "When I was younger, I remember something. I was with my friends, Farlan and Isabel—we still lived here, in that building right there—but we were walking up these steps, and I saw you guys... You, Eld, Gunther, and Oruo. Standing there in your Scout uniforms, just talking to each other…."

"What? Even though you had never even met us yet?"

"I know." He gazed back down at his feet. "Sounds crazy."

And indeed, the premonition of his future squad had lingered in the back of his mind, sometimes wandering back into his conscious thoughts on late nights, populating the shadows in the darkest corner of his room. Now, however, he was in that very place with Petra, and Farlan and Isabel were the apparitions plaguing him.

She regarded him anxiously, lifting her mug slowly to her lips to occupy herself while she pondered his words. Levi then pulled the rest of his bread out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

"This is yours," she protested. "What are you doing?"

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You eat it. You have a baby to feed. You'll take your parents' bread, so why not mine, too?"

And she heaved a sigh and nibbled off a corner, softening the crust with her saliva before chewing on it slowly.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly. "Even though a little loaf of bread is something, it's still not enough…."

He looked upon her face—dull in complexion and growing a little thinner at the edges, and her hair, matted and messy now with accumulated oils from lack of bathing—and the sight tormented him to the core of his being.

"You've only been here for three days, and you're already starting to starve."

The words themselves tasted just as bitter on his tongue as the thought of their meaning: he had already taken too long to find her.

"And I can't let that happen. And I won't."

A pallor of guilt overcame her, and she hung her head and stuffed her hands into her front pocket of her hoodie in resignation. His eyes lingered over her hands hidden in her pocket, which in turn were concealing her tiny baby bump.

"Besides," he continued, "you're already showing. You need as much food as possible, or the baby... won't grow."

In his head, he cursed the words he had to bite down and keep inside: or the baby won't survive….

She nodded silently, still not looking up. After a few moments of consideration, she rummaged around in the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out two lumpy carrots with the floppy green leaves still dangling from their tops.

"I guess my father was right: we have to fend for ourselves," she said.

He squinted a little at the shapes of the carrots, noticing how oddly shaped they were: both had two long, tapered tails branching off from their heads, and one of them had a third, smaller tail in between the two longer ones. From a certain point of view, they looked like a pair of male and female genitals with legs growing down on either side.

"Are these your father's carrots, then?" he asked smugly. "What do you think they look like?"

And she started to turn pink in the cheeks. She hurriedly untucked her hair on either side to cover her embarrassment, and she shoved the female-shaped carrot at him.

"Just eat it, okay?" she huffed. "Food is food." She blew off the rest of the stray dirt clinging to its whiskers and crunched into a "leg" to busy herself from having to look at the amused expression on his face.

"These carrots are tougher than me," he snickered. "I hope you don't bite down on me that hard…." He blew a puff of air to clean off his own carrot and summarily ate off a leg, too.

"Shut up," she grumbled, her cheeks still full of carrot. She grinded them down and swallowed a bit, then switched back to nibbling on the bread that he had given her.

"Then why did you give me the vag and give yourself the dick?"

"The dick is bigger," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "I have a baby to feed." And she bit off the carrot "dick" and gnashed it between her teeth with gusto, staring pointedly at him as she did so; he stared blandly back with his eyes half-closed, willing himself not to derive any visceral discomfort from her teasing.

"Also," she added, and she paused to take another swallow, "the outer part is a 'vulva', not a 'vag'. Did you read that part in the pregnancy book? Or did you skip past Chapter 1?" she huffed.

"But that's not the slang. That's, like, the 'medical' term that nobody actually uses."

"I don't care. You're still wrong." And she continued stuffing her face while he snickered.

In a couple of moments, though, he grew more serious again, turning internal to ponder something else on his mind.

"I kept on talking about 'eradicating the Titans'… but what does that really mean?" he muttered.

She swallowed her mouthful solemnly and stared at her feet. "If Titans are really humans in another form, and there are Titans outside the Walls... then there are humans outside the Walls, too."

"Yeah. That's how it looks."

He heaved a sigh in frustration again.

"Shit…."

And he shut his eyes in weariness at the thought of all the Titans he had killed without a second thought—every one of them a former human being he had slaughtered "to save humanity"….

He felt her small, warm hand sliding around the back of his waist, hugging him to her. Reminding him that she was there by his side, even now.

"There's only so much you can do on your own; you know that," she asserted. "You're doing everything you can. For everyone in the Walls."

Nevertheless, he shook his head.

"No matter how much I do… will it ever be enough?"

And she gave him that radiant smile of reassurance that was, by now, the thing he saw her do most often in his mind's eye when he thought of her.

"It is enough. More than enough," she said. "You've dedicated so much of your life to this. And… the Survey Corps couldn't have made it this far without you." And she said it with such conviction that he had no choice but to heave a sigh and accept it as true enough.

"I never wanted you to have to go down here," he admitted quietly.

She leaned back a little, frowning at the sudden change in topic.

"Why? This is where you're from. I'm glad I got to see it for myself…."

He shook his head, then opened his eyes again.

"You see how the MPs treat us down here. Like we're rats; not humans."

She frowned sadly, letting her shoulders droop a little.

"Are you ashamed of this place?" She paused. "Or of who you were when you were here?"

He gave a tiny scoff.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Well, you don't have to be. You didn't have any choice." She took the discarded carrot leaf from his lap and tucked it away into her hoodie pocket, then looked over reassuringly at him.

"I guess not, but… that doesn't change what I am," he concluded.

A troubled pause hung between them as they looked at each other, both thinking carefully about what the other had said—and what to say next. Finally, Petra picked up the rest of the bread loaf he had given her, and before taking a bite, she spoke again:

"Do you remember what I said to you on my roof? That I love you for who you are? No matter who—or what—you used to be?"

As she chewed her bread and swallowed, she reached for his hand, cupping it between both of her own hands.

"You're Captain Levi. Of the Survey Corps. Everybody knows your name. Even if still not everybody recognizes you," she chuckled. "And you earn enough money to support my whole family, plus yourself. Look how far you've come."

And he could not help but crack a smile at how everything she had said was true.

"Levi?" she asked.

"Hm?"

She gave him a warm, gentle smile as she gazed into his eyes.

"Tell me something. Something about your past. From this place here. Whether you think it was good or bad."

He sighed out through his nostrils, and his gaze flitted back and forth briefly in front of him as he considered what was most worth telling: something good worth remembering….

"I wish you could have met my friends. Isabel. Farlan."

She nodded slowly. "Isabel. What was she like?"

A spark seemed to shine in his eyes as he reminisced about her: "She really loved animals. I think she was really good at understanding them. They don't lie to you or steal from you, the way people do…."

"What about Farlan? What was his 'thing'?"

"He made the plans and closed the deals; I'd help him execute them. And he divvied up the money we would make. We'd help out everyone who helped us. Or if they needed help, regardless…."

And he started thinking about Yan—the last person he and his friends had helped—and he felt a sharp pang of guilt that he hadn't given a single thought to him in years. He wondered what had become of him since the day he, Farlan, and Isabel had been powerless to do anything but watch him be handed over to Lovof….

"We had another friend from back then, too: Yan. He didn't live with us, but he was one of our 'business partners.' He had a problem with his leg; he could hardly walk…. All three of us ended up in the Survey Corps because of him. If we did a job… the doctors in Mitras would save his leg."

She knitted her eyebrows. "You mean you were blackmailed? You were worried they'd do something to Yan if you didn't join the Survey Corps?"

He sighed quietly. "Something like that. But we were also being hired to… kill Erwin."

At this, Petra stared openly at him in overwhelming shock.

"This guy Lovof who hired us was from the MPs, and if we killed Erwin and took the documentation of Lovof's crimes away from him, then we would get citizenship on the Surface."

Petra pulled her knees up closer to her chest, feeling incredibly shaken at this story—and Levi killing Erwin? It all seemed so surreal, considering how close the two of them had become since then….

"Sounds like kind of a mess," she summarized.

"Yeah. It was…."

She tucked her hair behind her ear on her left side, nearest to him.

"So then what happened?"

Once again, his face grew taut.

"Farlan and Isabel died. On our first expedition outside the Walls. And I still tried to kill Erwin 'cause I blamed him for everything, but… he convinced me to stay in the Survey Corps instead."

She rubbed her thumb absentmindedly back and forth over the back of his hand, still resting in both of hers.

"I see…. I'm… really sorry."

He gazed out into the crowd of people in front of them, hazily watching people drifting along to preoccupy themselves.

"What can you do? Being a Scout is the most dangerous job there is…."

And she heaved a sigh, preferring not to dwell on another uncomfortable truth.

"Did you ever find Yan?"

"No." He paused. "I guess that's just life. You don't always get to find out what happens to people. They just kind of drift off and disappear on you. Before you know it, you realize… you're never going to see them again."

And he could not help but hang his head as his guilt continued to surge through him, gnawing at his stomach.

"And I guess I was a shitty friend, too, for forgetting all about him…."

She smiled mournfully. "It's understandable. The Survey Corps took up all the mental space I had, too…. Trying to be useful… trying not to die…."

His brow furrowed slightly as he listened. The thought of her dying would always be painful to him—something to banish from his mind every time it surfaced, never to be entertained.

She took a deep breath and changed to what she hoped would be a lighter topic: "How did you make money back then?"

He pursed his lips for a moment to prepare himself for yet another disclosure. "Stealing. From the MPs, mostly. Stuff they shouldn't have had in the first place. Like food they embezzled from the people. Or even… black market ODM gear…."

Petra nodded as realization sank in.

"So that was how you learned to use it? That was like your Cadet training?"

"Yup. We were all self-taught. Learned it better than any of those Scouts who finally came after us…."

His voice trailed off, and he pulled one knee up to wrap his arm around it. She recognized the guarded posture now as something he took up to compensate for feeling emotionally vulnerable. And as if he could sense her eyes on him, he turned his head slightly to meet her gaze out of the corner of his eyes.

She continued, "Your friends—did they like drinking tea with you?"

And this topic did manage to elicit a tiny smile from him again.

"They did. I think we all saw how alcohol turned so many people around us into monsters. But tea only brought good things…. Although…."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his thought. A mournful look overcame him yet again, though; she started to wonder whether she should stop asking him questions that seemed to always come around to a sad story….

He took a long, quiet inhale, and finally said, "If you don't want to tell me either way, then fine… but… did anyone ever… do things to you—that you didn't want?"

She thought she knew what he was getting at, but nevertheless, she asked, "What do you mean…?"

"Like the way that MP looked at you… or were you ever… assaulted, or…."

And she took an uneasy swallow before responding, "No."

He turned his head away to gaze off into the distance again.

"Good. You were lucky."

She kept looking at him, eyeing the side of his face, now flattened of visible emotion.

"Why do you ask?"

After what felt like several long seconds, his eyes finally drifted down to settle on his knee.

"My friend, Isabel… she wasn't so lucky."

Levi and Farlan were deep in thought, putting their heads together while they sat in their tiny living room. Levi was years younger, and even more hotheaded than he was in the present day.

"Things had never gone according to plan until now," Farlan conceded, "but if you're around, we can make do with a few slip-ups. If we join the Survey Corps…."

Isabel passed in through the doorway with a wobble in her step; she looked thoroughly disheveled, and her face was smudged with bloody fingerprints. The left side of her hair had been haphazardly chopped off.

As her appearance sank in for her two companions, the two young men's eyes widened. Levi's voice came out in an incredulous snarl: "Isabel?"

Farlan was more stunned than angry as he tracked her with his eyes. "What… what happened?"

She pouted bitterly, contorting her lips, and decidedly not turning to face them, let alone look at them.

"Nothing."

Farlan paused as the tension in the room built and swelled. "Don't tell me… you went to see those low-life scumbags again?"

"Shut up!" she screeched at full volume now. "I just tripped!"

Levi's voice remained even and calm, although he could hear the sound of anger roaring in his ears, surging higher.

"What happened to your hair?" he asked.

And Isabel twitched in anger at being scrutinized, gritting her teeth.

"It'll—grow—back!" she snapped; her eyes shone with the glimmering sheen of tears coming in fast. And before she lost her composure in front of them, she rushed to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

Levi glanced down to cradle his newly cleaned knife in his hands, pondering what to do next. He sheathed his knife, stood up, and walked into the room right after her.

"Hey, are you sure that's a good idea?" Farlan called out, standing up at once to trail after Levi. But he did not make any indication of stopping, and in another moment, both men were standing in the open doorway of Isabel's tiny room, watching her seething furiously through her tears as she lay on her mattress in a fetal position.

"I'll kill you!" she sobbed, the tears pouring hotly over from one side of her face to the other. "Nnnnh… I'll… kill you! Hnnn… kill… kill you all…."

And Levi's eyes grew stormy dark, and he turned and shoved Farlan out of the room, shutting the door securely behind them both.

"Boil some water for tea," Levi ordered. His voice cut sharply through the tension in the air.

Farlan gave him a look of slowly-dawning comprehension. "What…? Wait…."

"Do it."

When Levi shoved the front door open again, Farlan was pacing restlessly with a boiling pot of water over the open flame burner in the kitchenette area. Levi gruffly walked over and started shaking a dried herbal tea mix from a canister into a teacup.

"Shit," Farlan murmured. "You really did get some of that stuff." He narrowed his eyes at Levi's knife still strapped to his thigh. "Lemme guess: you're gonna kill the bastards next?"

Levi poured the hot water from the kettle into the teacup, then stared listlessly at his handiwork as the water turned a cloudy brown, then slowly cleared as the tea brewed. "What else would you be doing?"

Farlan looked stricken at his friend's willingness to resort to violence so easily; he watched Levi walk away from him and towards Isabel's door with the teacup in hand.

Levi pried her door open with his foot without even bothering to knock first. She hurriedly pulled her blanket more securely around her head to avoid having to deal with him.

"Here." He set a teacup with tea on the bedside table next to her, in full view of her eyes peeping out from the blanket. "Do you know what kind of tea this is?"

She nodded and said in a hoarse whisper, "Yeah. I think I do…."

Levi sighed quietly. "It's your choice; it's up to you. But it's more likely to work, the sooner you can drink it."

She sat up slowly and stared at the teacup, losing herself in the swirling surface of the brown liquid as she grimly considered her options.

"But if you ask me…." He gave her a somber, mournful glance for just one moment before averting his gaze. "You're too young for this. Not like this."

When Levi returned for the second time, he wiped the blood off his knife for the second time that day. He slipped back into Isabel's bedroom to check up on her, and he saw the now-empty teacup sitting on her bedside table with just a single drop of brown still clinging to the bottom. She was still curled in her bed in a fetal position, crying quietly. And he smelled the blood in the air singeing his nostrils with the thought of the brutality he had just wrought on her brutalizers. The killings were just, and if he could do it all over, he would do it again.

Levi found Farlan sitting out on the balcony on a wicker chair with one broken armrest, looking too stunned for words.

"Well," Levi began cautiously, "her mattress might be a goner; keep your eyes peeled for another one…."

Farlan glanced down at Levi's bloody rag sticking out of his butt pocket as the latter leaned over the balcony on his elbows.

Farlan said, "I've been trying to figure out how we can get her to a bath… but there just isn't an opportunity right now. It hasn't rained on the Surface in ages. And we just boiled the last of our water into that tea."

"Tch. Figures."

They lapsed into a long silence, growing to a monstrous, cavernous size, and displacing all coherent thought.

At last, Farlan continued: "What'd I tell you? It's high time we all got out of here. Even if just to get her away from all of this."

Levi hung his head. "The Survey Corps. Even if it sucks... it can't be any worse than here."

He gave a pointed look at Farlan.

"It's not a good time right now, obviously, but at some point... you should tell her how you feel."

"What...?" He was stunned and embarrassed that Levi saw through him, but he could not deny it.

"Give it a while, though," Levi advised him. "She's still got some growing up to do."

Farlan glared at him now. "And who the hell are you, giving me advice? Like you would ever tell anyone if you liked them..."

Levi smirked to himself. "Shit. Maybe you're right. Don't listen to me, then..."

He pulled his filthy rag from his pocket, tossed it onto the ground, and went back in for a few moments. He soon returned with a candle from the living room, which he used to set the rag alight. And the two young men watched in listless rapture, transfixed at the sight of primordial transformation, as the flames gnawed rapidly around the unbloodied fabric and nibbled at the edges of the bloody streaks, slowly consuming everything in its ravenous hunger for fuel.

Farlan spoke aloud again, still watching the fire burn. "Levi. Think about it: what are we doing here? With her?"

Levi jerked his head over to glare at Farlan. "You'd rather she be out there on her own? Getting attacked by drunkards on the street every night?"

Farlan looked genuinely torn up inside, no doubt feeling inadequate to help her in any meaningful way. Vigilante killing was Levi's way, not his; his way was making deals and planning more. But none of that meant a thing against people who did not care for reason or human decency.

"No, but—" Farlan spluttered in his rising frustration, "what if we're just—not the people she needs right now? Maybe other girls—or women—would be of more help to her with this."

But Levi just shook his head.

"All the other girls her age are already prostitutes. They have that dead look in their eyes; they're not curious about the world anymore."

He turned back to hanging his hands absentmindedly over the balcony, and his gaze dropped to his idly dangling hands.

"But she still is." Levi paused and heaved a quiet sigh. "At least, until today…. We'll see how she does."

Farlan leaned his back against the wall next to Levi and sank down into a sitting position, looking defeated as he curled his body over his knees.

Levi continued, "I always figured she ended up with us 'cause she wanted something different than that…. We can't just hand her off to whoever, just because they're girls, too."

"No. You're right." Farlan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall again. "She'll end up in the hands of some madam, and they'll just beat her up some more. And start lining up johns." Flashes of mixed emotions seethed in his eyes: rage, disgust, bitterness.

"Exactly. And I can't accept that." Levi eyed Farlan carefully. "And I'm betting you couldn't, either."

They both sat in bitter, tormented silence for a long while, glancing over at Levi's rag smoldering down into a twisted, charred smudge upon the balcony floor. With all traces of his gruesome deed now obliterated from existence, Levi gave a tiny nod of finality.

Farlan lifted his head again with a fresh thought: "Have you ever thought about how abnormal we all are? Compared to the Surface people?"

"What do you mean?"

Farlan shrugged. "Why is everyone's mother here a prostitute? Why is everyone's father a john?"

"'Cause life is unfair." Levi paused. "I guess that means that some of our fathers are probably Surface people—if they came down here to get some."

Farlan nodded absentmindedly. "Ever wonder who your father is? I mean, you don't even know his name…."

Levi scoffed. "No. Fuck him—and everyone like him."

"Yeah. You're right…. They probably don't even know we exist."

Levi spun himself around slowly to face inward towards the door, resting the backs of his elbows against the balcony. "It's better this way."

And he took a moment to consider his true inner thoughts that he had not had an occasion to give voice to before:

"But… I guess I do wish we came from somewhere different," he concluded.

"What do you mean? Not from Underground, you mean?" Farlan scoffed. "If only."

"Not from some asshole who came down here to use people. Someone who would care. Someone who would stay." Levi hung his head, thinking now about Kenny: someone who he had pinned his hopes on, only to be abandoned at the very moment he had thought he had gained his approval.

Farlan pressed his fingers to the inner corners of his eyes to help himself focus. "We all wish that, Levi. But life's not fair." And he lowered his hands and stared over at Isabel's bedroom door, hanging the slightest bit ajar on its hinges so they could hear her if she needed them. "I guess we just have to be our own example. You know?"

They both nodded quietly.

"Yeah," Levi muttered. "I know."

Back in the present, Petra bit her lower lip as she mulled his story over.

"So… that was the tea you were talking about," she murmured in a low voice. "The same kind you thought about getting for me, too…."

He pursed his lips and tightened the grip of his hand around his uninjured knee, feeling somehow ashamed of having had the thought of offering her the same tea that he had given Isabel. He had always viewed the abortifacient tea as a source of freedom—something his mother chose after having him, to devote herself to her only child. Not having another, and another, when she could barely even provide for one. For a baby never born, it was salvation from suffering; and for a baby like him that had been born, it was a better chance at survival.

And Isabel had chosen that freedom, too—for however short a time she had left after that decision, she could live her life without the threat of an unexpected (and unwanted) pregnancy. Nobody else's life literally tethered to hers, sapping her energy, demanding ever more resources from her.

But Petra had chosen the opposite: she chose motherhood. Willing servitude to a child. And, just like his own mother, Petra was already suffering for it. Unshakable hunger, eating her up from the inside out. He looked upon Petra's face—strained, thin, growing dull in complexion after three days of two bread loaves and one cup of beer per day—and the guilt came crashing in upon him yet again. Even twice her daily ration (courtesy of her parents' sacrifice) was still not enough. And she couldn't be the only pregnant woman Underground right now, and yet she was the one that made him most desperate—whose visible suffering tore him apart the most. And she was right: as just one person, he could only do so much. But he'd be damned if he couldn't at least save her.

Levi opened his mouth for a brief moment before uttering, "If you had known that you would be here now for not drinking that tea… would you still have chosen this? To feel hungry and cold like this?"

Petra sighed and let her eyes droop shut for a spell.

"We couldn't have known that we would have to go here. I can't regret a situation that we had no control over." She frowned pensively, meeting his gaze again. "Besides… didn't we agree that I probably would have died with the rest of your squad by now if I had taken you up on that tea?"

"Still, though… seeing you like this here… I wish you didn't have to be here. For yet another reason." And he turned his head to look away in a futile hope of minimizing the effect of his anguish on her.

Nevertheless, she gave a tiny, bright smile. "Even so… I'm glad you're here. My parents are relieved, too, that you're here to help us through this."

And at this, he could not help but nod.

"Don't I always keep my promises?" he asked, cracking a smirk for some much-needed levity.

She gave a good-humored chuckle in response as she tucked her hair back behind her ear and gave her scalp a few brief, absentminded scratches. Somehow, even though the light was dimmer, he finally did notice the pierced hole in her earlobe. Maybe only now that he had the luxury of all the time in the world was he truly able to take in every tiny detail of her….

But all too soon, the light in her eyes shifted as her lips morphed into a pensive frown.

"So—" she began again, "you killed those people…." And she looked up expectantly at him as if to ask for his answer.

He heaved another sigh and glanced away from her.

"Yeah."

She absentmindedly clasped her hands together, interlacing her fingers. "Is that what you meant when you said you were one of those 'barbaric people'?" And she eyed him carefully. "'Cause that's different. Revenge is different from stealing. Isn't it?"

"I don't know. It didn't feel that different to me—it's all just maiming and killing to get what you want…. But them? They deserved it," he concluded, with more assertion in his voice now.

She nodded slowly. "People killing, people dying…" she murmured, her voice subdued. "I guess that's all part of life, in the end. That's just how people are…."

They lifted their eyes to meet again. He seemed unsure, cautious about his next words.

"You're not… upset? That I'm just another murderer?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You're not 'just another murderer'. You said it yourself: they deserved it."

And she opened her arms, reaching for him to pull him into a side hug. He closed his eyes and rested the side of his head against the top of her head, treasuring the feeling of her body leaning against him.

"I'm glad you understand," he murmured into the crown of her hair.

When he opened his eyes again, however, he found himself glancing down into her hair, and he froze in momentary shock at the sight of a head louse skittering away to hide in the depths of her scalp. The sneaky bastard had turned reddish-brown to camouflage itself in her hair, but Levi was no stranger to their tricks. Only now did he also notice an intermittent smattering of pinprick white nits glued to the roots of her hair. He brusquely pushed her body upright again.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "Petra…."

"Huh?" she mumbled.

He steeled himself for yet another difficult admission: "You have lice…."

"Oh." She grew still for a few uncomfortable moments, then pivoted away from him to hug around herself. "I'm sorry… I didn't know. I shouldn't have hugged you, huh…."

"It's not your fault," he sighed. "You've been crammed in with all these people. I should have guessed this would happen…."

"I'm sorry," she squeaked out in a thin voice. "I'm filthy; I know…."

"It's not your fault," he repeated. It hurt more and more to have to look her in the eyes; every new discovery felt like a new betrayal of her confidence in him. More than he could ever feel disgusted at her, he blamed himself. He let this happen somehow—even though he didn't quite know how….

"Well, it's not yours, either," she insisted. How did she know what he was thinking, even when he hadn't said a word? "They made me go down here, and you couldn't do a thing about it. And you still can't."

He nodded. "You're right. You can't leave. So I came here to stay with you. And I will." He paused to search her eyes as she gazed, wide-eyed, into his own. "At least… for as long as I don't have orders otherwise."

"Even if you get lice, too?"

"That's right," he sighed. "Can't let you suffer alone, can I?"

He stood up, reaching down for her hand to help her up to her feet as well.

"But I'd still prefer to minimize the suffering. Time for a de-lousing."

She hung her head and hung onto his hand as he pulled her back down the stairs for whatever he had in mind next.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! You've probably noticed by now that I've been incorporating multiple sources of canon material, not just from the manga and anime. All the OVAs, Smartpasses, AOT Tactics, the AOT PlayStation games, Spoof on Titan (where the carrots came from)… it's all fair game in my world!

Chapter 17: Hibernation

Summary:

Levi and Petra spend their days Underground keeping each other's spirits up as they hope for a brighter future.

Notes:

Happy New Year! You can probably see how incredibly self-indulgent this alternate reality is getting. (My self-assessment of my level of self-indulgence is largely based on how long I've gone between sex scenes. So, let's just say that there are also more of those planned for the near future.) But all I know is that I'm enjoying myself, so hopefully you are, too. But if you're itching to get back to the Forest, we'll also get there eventually (in a few more chapters).

Chapter Text

Soundtrack Recommendations:

"theDOGS" – Hiroyuki Sawano (Attack on Titan OST)

"Birden" – Yoko Kanno (Zankyou no Terror OST)

Levi continued to pull Petra along through the crowd of people pressing in on them from all directions towards what seemed to be the main thoroughfare.

"Are we going somewhere in particular?" she asked him at last.

"Hopefully."

Levi spotted a bum lying dead asleep in a doorway, and he walked up to him and kicked the man in the leg.

"Hey. Wake the fuck up," Levi gruffly snapped at him.

The bum stirred for a moment, then opened his eyes fully, regarding Levi warily with his sky-blue eyes. "Oh." And he sat up slowly. The ragged, worn hood of his brown hoodie slid down around his shoulders to reveal his greasy twists of chin-length, dirty blond hair. "Wow, you know, you're the first guy in a while who didn't call me an asshole or whatever..."

Levi could not help but smirk. "Heh, you hear that, Petra? He thinks I'm friendly. I don't even think you think that."

And Petra sighed and glanced aside. "I can't say I do."

Levi turned back to the bum: "But I'd rather not have anything to do with your asshole. If it's all the same to you."

The bum huffed, "The hell you want, then, asshole? Why you gotta wake me up like that?" he grumbled, rubbing his shins with his hands.

Levi crossed his arms. "We need a lice comb. And the marketplace is gone."

"Well, yeah! Ever since you Surface people came down here and took up camp all over the road, the sellers moved their business indoors."

"Well, do you know where we can get one?"

The bum snapped his raggedy hood back up around his face. "Does it look like I would know? You think I would have lice?!" And he muttered under his breath, "Judgmental prick…."

Levi's eyes narrowed. "Clearly you don't have lice, then, so you must know where to get some combs."

"What the hell... More like people see I'm homeless and they keep their lice the hell away from me. Unlike you…." And he pivoted away from them again to lean against the doorframe. "You gotta go 'round banging on doors to find what'cha need, I figure..."

"So then, whose door do I bang on?" Levi pressed.

The bum let loose a loud sigh, causing his hood to flutter with the force of his breath. "Second floor of that one building near Exit 10. Gray door; lotsa paint peeling off. Skinny twig lady…."

Levi continued to glare down at the man. "There are a lot of starving thin ladies. Which building? The tall one or one of the short ones?"

"A short one... Second floor's the top one..."

"Good enough." Levi turned to leave, then stopped for a moment and added, "Thanks."

The bum scoffed back, "You're welcome. Asshole..." And he grumbled to himself, "Waking a man up in the middle of the damn day or whenever the hell it is..."

Levi started walking away, but Petra trailed behind for a long moment, caught up in her thoughts.

"Isn't it funny?" she remarked as she finally turned her gaze back to Levi. "You're wearing a brown cloak, I'm wearing a green hoodie, and he's wearing a brown hoodie."

"What, does that make him like our long-lost blond son or something? Just 'cause his outfit is a combination of ours?" he muttered in mild amusement.

"Heh," she chuckled. "I get the sense that our chances of having a blond son are not that high…."

He tilted his head up for a few long moments as he walked. "Huh, then again, if there's anything I've learned in life, it's 'Never say never'…."

When they had scaled the stairs to find what he hoped was the correct gray door, Levi gave a few purposeful knocks before glancing furtively over at Petra next to him.

"Do you know this lady?" she asked him.

"I might. I'll know when I see her."

They heard some muffled footsteps approach the opposite side of the door. There was a moment of stillness, then the door swung open a crack, and they found themselves face-to-face with the muzzle of a flintlock pistol sticking out from behind the door frame.

"We're customers," Levi said curtly. "We heard you have lice combs."

"Well, you knock like a fucking cop," a woman's voice snapped. "We don't take no prissy MPs."

Petra spoke up quickly: "We're not MPs. We were just trying to be polite."

"See?" Levi said to Petra. "No one's ever happy when I try to be polite." And he turned back to address the woman hidden behind the doorway. "Next time I'll pound on the door like an entitled asshole, and you'll let me in with a smile, eh?"

With this, the woman peeped out warily at them, appearing as a coiffed pile of curly black hair framing her small, brown face, with sharp, piercing black eyes, a refined nose, and heart-shaped lips.

"Damn," the woman drawled. "Levi, wasn't it? Olympia's boy?"

"Tch. Zeyneb. You have too good of a memory."

She pulled the pistol away and wagged her finger at him. "You can never have too good of a memory, son." Zeyneb craned her neck to call out to someone in the other room, "Hey, Leyla. Remember Levi? Olympia's son?"

"Whaaat?" the other woman squawked. There was a clanging sound of a pot being set down abruptly on a stovetop.

"That's right!" Zeyneb turned back and crossed her arms to stare at Levi again. "The prodigal son returns to the cradle. Or somethin' like that."

Leyla hurried in wearing a gray apron on top of a black house dress that went down to her mid-shin. Her wavy, inky black hair cascaded down either side of her face, obscuring her ears and part of her cheeks.

"Damn," she muttered, taking in the sight of him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, it's about time you paid us a visit! Just in time for tea…."

"Your little crew went to the Surface, right?" Zeyneb muttered with a hint of envy in her voice.

"Yeah, just the three of us," Levi said.

Leyla gave him a long look up and down, then paused to pay careful attention to his face. "Your eyes look older... tireder, for sure. And you got a bit stockier, too."

"I bet it's the Surface food," Zeyneb sniffed. "Or the sunlight, too."

Leyla narrowed her eyes at Petra now. "Who's the lovely lady hanging off your arm?"

"This is my wife, Petra."

Petra blushed a little. "Nice to meet you..."

Zeyneb turned to Leyla and mouthed the word "wife" incredulously, then turned back to Levi. "And why'd you bring her all the way down here to a place like this?"

"It wasn't our decision; it was the government's," Levi deadpanned. "And now we need a lice comb."

"Oh yeah?" Zeyneb scoffed and propped one fist on her hip. "And did the government bother to ask us what we wanted before they shoved the lot of you in here with us?"

"No. Why would they?" Levi asked with a scoff of his own.

Leyla cleared her throat and crossed her arms, too, tilting her head downward to regard him out of the top of her vision.

"How's your lady friend from way back when? She drink the tea or what?"

Levi sighed and glanced uncomfortably at Petra, who grimaced knowingly back. "Yeah. She did."

Leyla gave a partial pivot in place as she kept eye contact with him over her shoulder. "Good. Never had quite such a demanding customer as you that time." She started to drift away from the door and nudged her friend on the way. "Let 'em in already, for God's sake. It's awkward makin' 'em stand there like idiots, ya know."

Zeyneb burst out laughing. "Well, duh. Where are my manners?" And she extended an arm to welcome them over the threshold of the door.

Zeyneb and Leyla both motioned towards a stained, faded blue couch in the living room area, but Levi tugged on Petra's sleeve and muttered in her ear, "Don't sit. There might be weird shit in the cushions."

"Heh," Zeyneb chuckled. "Listen to that, honey. He might be right, ya know." And she took a seat instead of them and shoved her pistol down and out of view in between the seat and back cushions next to her.

Levi and Petra thus stood in the center of the room while Zayneb sat on the couch and Leyla wandered back over into the kitchen. Levi crossed his arms and gazed upon them with his usual surly countenance, while Petra shoved her hands nervously in her hoodie pocket and glanced intermittently over at him for cues for what to do or say. She noticed areas of peeling paint all over the interior walls that had been scrubbed away, and there was even a smattering of bullet holes near the front doorway and the wall right above the couch. But amid all the history of strife told by this one room, these two aging women were entertaining visitors as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"So…." Zeyneb curled her legs up under her and eyed Petra suspiciously. "Now you done knocked up another one or somethin'?"

"That first one wasn't me."

"Huh huh… I dunno, you did seem awfully invested in that girl…."

"You mean Isabel, honey," Leyla added blandly, now reappearing with two full teacups in her hands. "You're shit with names, you know?" And she handed Levi and Petra each a teacup. "It's not that kind of tea, honey; just black tea," she assured Petra.

"I remembered his name, okay?" Zeyneb huffed. "The leader's name is the most important."

Petra swilled the tea around in the cup, watching its vapors waft upward with the motion. "Thank you," she said quietly with a smile. "It's been a while since I drank black tea." As she lifted it to her lips, she closed her eyes, savoring the heat against her nose, and the taste upon her tongue was the richly familiar earthy honey, yet also already such a distant memory to her that it seemed to be the first time experiencing it.

Leyla stared at Levi over the rim of his cup as he sipped, peering into his eyes with an intensity to match his own. To Petra, they seemed to be kindred spirits in appearance, attitude, and even their shared interest in tea.

"We heard some stuff here and there about the famous 'Captain Levi', you know…" Leyla pressed him.

"Yeah," Zeyneb added. "Be honest with us, Levi: everyone knows you and those two friends of yours got arrested and then disappeared, and then people started talking about 'Levi the Titan-killer from Underground'. Are you an indentured servant to the military now or something?"

Leyla scoffed and rested her hands on her hips. "For three square meals and a bed to sleep in? I'd have done it, too."

Levi sighed. "Not exactly. They gave me the choice to stay there or go back here."

Leyla scrunched up her mouth. "What the hell? You call that a 'choice'? I would've stayed, too. Like I said." She nodded approvingly at him. "You did good. Giving us a good name up there."

"He'd better be," Zeyneb grumbled. "They're the only ones who 'made it' up there…. Where are they, anyway? Farlan and Isabel?"

"Dead," Levi muttered. "Both of them."

Petra took another swallow of her tea to occupy herself from the discomfort saturating the air.

"What the fuck? You let them die, asshole?!" Leyla growled, throwing herself onto the opposite end of the couch from her friend.

"No. It was out of my control."

"Fuck that. I was really rooting for those two," she sniffed and hunched over a little, seeming genuinely upset now. "The redheads always die…."

"What the fuck?" Zeyneb hissed, poking Leyla's thigh with her slippered toe. "Don't say that shit in front of actual redheads."

Petra gave a wan smile. "It's fine. I'm only half a redhead, anyway."

Levi shook his head in exasperation and leaned in to hand his empty teacup to Leyla. "Thank you for the tea. It was great. Really flavorful."

"I agree," Petra said, turning her empty teacup back in as well. "The best tea I've had in ages."

"Well, you're welcome," she replied, sitting up a little straighter at the praise. Then she cleared her throat and eyed her friend expectantly. "Zeyneb, give him the comb…."

"What? You want me to just give it to him?" she squawked.

"He remembered us for six years. And he still likes my tea," she insisted.

Zeyneb rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"It's okay; I can pay you guys," Levi offered, but Zeyneb waved her hand.

"You heard the lady. It's on the house."

And she got up to rummage through her inventory in an adjoining room for a few moments, then reemerged with a sturdy wooden comb: one side had teeth set slightly wide apart, and the other side had teeth that were so tightly spaced that they almost touched.

"You remember how to use it?" she asked Levi.

"Yeah."

She shifted her hand so the comb slid to one side, revealing a bar of pale yellow soap.

"Her hair's greasy," she sighed and gave a little nod. "Give her a shampooing while you're at it."

He took the comb and soap from her outstretched hand and pocketed them, gingerly pursing his lips. "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you for your hospitality," Petra added eagerly.

"In exchange," Leyla called out, "you talk to the government and get us outta here, too. If they know you, then maybe you can get them to give a shit about the rest of us, too. You know?"

And Levi looked upon both women with a mixture of pity and renewed resolve.

"I'll do what I can." He gave them a nod of finality and offered a hand to Petra to let themselves out the door. But he stopped one more time and pivoted in place to address them, still holding Petra's hand.

"By the way," he added tentatively, "my mother's whoring name isn't the one she wanted me to remember. Her real name was Kuchel. You got that?"

The two women nodded soberly. "Got it. Kuchel and Levi." And they both smiled warmly at him and gave him nods of their own to send him off.

As they descended the steps back to the ground level, Petra remarked:

"People here are… pretty nice so far."

He smirked and glanced back at her before taking another step downward. "Heh. Funny you should say that."

She gave him a tiny smile. "Well, they're kind of like you: they talk roughly, but they do nice things. Like telling us where to go, without expecting anything in return. Or giving us stuff for free, just 'cause they were happy to see you."

He shrugged. "There are plenty of bad apples, too. But the regular people… we know we're all in this together. If you've ever been starving and homeless, you'll know: people need each other to survive."

"Kind of like right now, huh."

He nodded curtly. "Yeah."

When they were back on the ground, Levi stopped in front of an empty crate leaning against a wall and took a seat.

"I doubt we'll get much privacy anywhere we go, so here's as good a place as any," he concluded. He handed her the comb and his waterskin. "You check my head first 'cause it'll be quick. Just wet the comb and then comb out whatever's in there."

Petra scoffed, "What? I thought I had the lice."

He took his cloak off and shook it vigorously in the air. "If I just got some from you, then maybe you can still catch them now if they're still red-colored. You're a foregone conclusion; yours can wait."

She contorted the corners of her lips. "Gee, well, thanks for the concern."

"You know I'm right. Just do it." And he sat on the crate with his back to her. "Work in sections. Comb out the top, bottom, and either side of each section of hair, from the roots all the way to the tips."

"Do you want a shampooing, too?" she asked.

"Nah; I'll be fine till tomorrow."

She made a big show of heaving an exasperated sigh, but nevertheless she obediently followed his instructions to pour a little water over the teeth of the comb as she checked his hair and scalp, section by section.

"Hmm, I don't see any…" she murmured while combing upward through his undercut.

"Good."

"Even the lice are afraid of you," she giggled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She grinned to herself as she shifted upward to the underside of his longer hairs. "Ah, well, just that you're not the friendliest of folk…."

"Tch. People gotta give me a good reason to be friendly to them."

She tilted her head. "Do I give you a good enough reason?"

"More than good enough." And he smiled discreetly to himself.

"Good." She leaned in to whisper teasingly in his ear, "I love you, too…."

"Good," he said and gave a single nod, then stood up. "Seems like my turn's over." He extended his hand for the comb, which she passed over to him. "You're the one who's due for a shampooing, too, though…."

And he glanced furtively around to assess if they had onlookers; thankfully, the people they were in view of were milling about, minding their own business.

"You'll have to take off your hoodie so it won't get wet," he said matter-of-factly.

She frowned but gamely removed her hoodie and gave it a few strong shakes in the air like he had done with his own cloak.

"I guess there are plenty of worse things than being caught in public in my nightgown," she mused. "Like having lice. Or having greasy hair."

Levi could not help but notice from the subtle bumps of fabric over her nipples that there was no bra underneath her nightgown, but he averted his gaze to afford her whatever politeness would possibly mean anything. And when she took a seat on the wooden crate and leaned over with her head pointing perpendicular to him, he realized that her cleavage was unmistakably visible. Fortunately, he had her sandwiched between himself and the wall of the first floor of the building, so his body was blocking her from view. He sighed quietly to himself and proceeded to squeeze out a little water at a time from his waterskin onto her hair until it was uniformly damp, then reached for the soap bar and sudsed up her hair at the scalp.

She shivered and clasped her hands around her opposite arms as he worked the shampoo suds into the roots of her hair.

"Sorry. Is the water cold?" he asked.

"Kind of," she admitted. "And I took off my hoodie, too…."

"Just hang in there," he said. "I'll boil some water for you to drink later."

She nodded agreeably, then doubled down on the shivering as he started to rinse her hair clean. Once her hair was rinsed free of shampoo, the combing process began. Both of them were thankful that her hair was not much longer than her chin. Nevertheless, Levi scraped off a smattering of nits from the roots of her hair, and multiple wriggling lice the color of rust. He grunted a quiet "Ugh" as he rinsed off whatever came off the comb in each sweep through the strands of her hair, and the unwanted parasites splattered into the growing puddle on the ground. He was careful not to stand in the water himself, and he nudged her foot so she kept her own feet away from what was getting rinsed off of her.

Levi glanced up when he sensed people approaching, and surely enough, a pair of soldiers (a suspiciously youthful-looking man and woman, both with wavy, dark brown hair) sauntered up to them with their rifles slung over their shoulders. They came to a stop in front of the odd public display and crossed their arms in unison.

"Well. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Levi scoffed sarcastically. "You two twins or something?"

"What we are is irrelevant," the woman sniffed. "We wanted to ask you what you're doing."

Petra cleared her throat audibly. "He's combing out my lice. Wanna see?" And she pointed to the puddle near her feet, where two lice were crawling along through the newly-formed mud.

The two soldiers contorted their faces at the sight and looked back up at Levi and Petra.

"Gross," the man spat. "Why would you do that out in public?"

"Where the hell else are we supposed to do it, then?" Levi grumbled.

"Well, wrap it up quick," the woman said. "You're making a mess with that mud puddle there."

"Wait." Levi narrowed his gaze at the emblems on their jackets, realizing now that they wore the twin crisscrossed swords of the Cadet Corps, rather than the green unicorn of the Military Police. "You kids are kinda young to be running around like you own the place…."

The young man chuckled. "It's all hands on deck for The End of Times. Even for Cadets."

Petra glanced up at them through her wet, upturned hair and observed their faces carefully. "The 104th just graduated… you two must be even younger, then. Second Year? Or even… First?"

The man tipped his head down towards Petra. "Second. Well, we were First Years till the 104th graduated, so we just moved up."

"Gee." Petra shook her head sadly. "It's only gotten crazier up there these last couple of months."

The woman smirked. "Like he said: all hands on deck. Gotta keep the peace—all the way down to the last man. Or woman." She tilted her head to regard Petra with a renewed scrutiny as well. "You seem to know a bit about how the Cadets work. Are either of you soldiers, too?"

"We're Scouts," Levi said. "Both of us."

"What?" the young man spluttered. "Then what the hell are you two doing down here? Aren't the Scouts supposed to be rechecking the Wall?"

"Well, I'm pregnant and he's injured," Petra informed them plainly. "So they won't let us."

The woman frowned and spoke sharply. "You got pregnant on active duty? When we need every Scout we can get?"

Levi's eyes narrowed and he prepared to tell her off preemptively, but Petra beat him to it:

"It was our decision." A ringing silence hung in the air, begging a further explanation: "This war has no end in sight. And—we wanted to be together."

The woman gave a slow blink. "So we lost a Scout so we could get a baby. How's that supposed to help the cause?"

"Why does my baby have to 'help the cause'?" Petra snapped, finally losing her temper. She glared up at the woman through the strands of her wet hair. "Isn't it enough for people to just be people, not tools?"

"Not when we're backed into a corner like we are now." A regretful, even disapproving look overcame the young woman now. "I bet we could have used you out there."

"It's none of your business," Levi grunted. "Our personal lives aren't your entertainment." He started to pull the comb a little more forcefully through Petra's hair, although he caught himself when he noticed her wince.

"You're right," the man conceded. "Sorry about that." He leaned in towards his companion and muttered barely audibly in her ear, "We should leave them alone already…."

The woman heaved a sigh, then gazed back down at Petra with a seemingly softer look in her eyes.

"You know… if you want more food, you can get away with falling in line more than once."

"What? A double ration?" Petra spluttered. "Are you giving me permission?"

She waved her hand. "Just wear your hood up one time and wear it down the second time. Nobody will remember your face out of everybody they have to serve every day."

Her male companion nodded with a newfound respect for her consideration.

"I mean, if you have a baby on the way… a future soldier will need all the food it can get," she concluded with a nod.

"Franca, that's—enough—" the man grunted, spinning her around by the shoulders. "Sorry about her," he blurted out to Petra. "She's got certain opinions about women and childbearing…."

And the two Cadets walked back in the direction they had been patrolling from, seeming to lapse into familiar bickering amongst themselves.

"No way they weren't twins," Levi chuckled.

"Or maybe they were dating…" Petra mused. "Nah, you're right: they looked too much alike…."

When they were both finally de-loused and their clothes shaken out and checked for any lingering lice, Levi and Petra started to amble along through the crowd once more.

"I don't care what they say," Levi started at last. "More bread is something, sure, but you'll still be malnourished if bread is the only food you eat."

"But like you said, it's something…. At least my parents can eat their whole loaf of bread this way."

"And I'll get you something else, too. Different food, for more variety."

Petra eyed him carefully out of the corner of her eye. "How?" A hint of suspicion creeped into her voice.

"You'll see. I have a plan."

She nibbled on her lower lip a little. "Okay…. I just hope you don't have to hurt anybody to get that kind of food around here."

He glanced over at her to lock eyes with her. "I won't."

Upon nearing the northern area of the Underground City, they both paused for a spell when they came upon a lone man sitting on a crate pushed into a corner. He seemed fairly well put-together, wearing an off-white buttoned-up dress shirt and brown slacks. The man looked up briefly as they approached and vacated his seat for them.

"Oh, you don't need to go," Petra said, but the man shrugged.

"It's fine; I've been sitting around doing nothing for long enough…."

And he flitted away into the crowd as Petra murmured, "Huh…."

She startled when Levi grabbed her hands and pulled her over to sit on the crate.

"There's only room for one person, so—"

"But your leg's injured," she protested. "Here—" And she stood up, pushed him down to sit him on the crate, and took a seat on his lap, focusing the majority of her weight on his uninjured right leg. "How's this?" she asked, gazing coyly over at him. Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched.

"I think we're still in public," he pointed out, but as he looked upon her and saw the glowing greenish-yellow light from the stone columns reflected in her lovely golden eyes, he could not help but wish that they were not on public display for a change….

"I don't really know if these are the 'last days of humanity', like you said," she murmured in his ear. "But either way… I'm glad you're spending them with me."

Her eyelashes brushed against his cheek as she half-closed her eyes and gave him a gentle kiss on the side of his jaw. The urge to kiss her back in earnest was so great, but he held himself back, holding her head and sighing in longing into her half-dried hair instead.

"You know," she continued slowly, "one of the food storage containers is empty now…." She shifted her seat a little on his thigh, feeling him stirring in his pants pressed up against the underside of her own leg.

He squeezed his hand around her upper arm as he pressed his face into her hair and smelled the clean lemon scent of soap, which somehow only further fueled his arousal. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

"If you can break into my bedroom window, then you can break into an abandoned storage container…" she whispered. "Unless… you'd rather not…."

"Fuck…." He snarled into her ear. "We'd better not get caught…."

"I can be quiet," she teased. Her hand made its way down the front of his shirt, under his cloak. "Can you?"

Just as expected, the MPs guarding the empty storage container had thoroughly deserted the area by the time Levi and Petra had returned.

"Unbelievable," Levi scoffed. "This is another level of irresponsible…."

"Now, are you talking about them, or us?" Petra asked, grinning.

"Both," he concluded. He turned away from her briefly to look over the lock mechanism while she stood guard, and with a few decisive maneuvers of the metal bars, he managed to swing one of the door hinges open wide enough for the two of them to squeeze in and close the door behind them.

"You should give me my ring back so we can see," she whispered.

"Shit. You're right." He pulled it back out of his pocket, found her hand in the dark, and slipped it back on her finger.

"That's better."

Before they could get much of a sense of the layout of the room, however, he took her by the hands and held her close, gazing into her eyes.

"You know, though," he sighed, "I don't think this is the wisest use of our energy..."

"Stop thinking so logically. I don't care." She pulled him in by the lapels and kissed him. "I'm tired of obsessing about food; I'm tired of feeling hungry and cold. I wanna feel something good."

He groaned in exasperation into her ear. "Fuck. How am I supposed to say no to that?" And he embraced her from behind and pushed her up against the nearest wall.

"From behind again, huh? Are you giving me a pat-down now?" she asked suggestively, pressing her hands against the wall and leaning into his caressing.

"I'm gonna do more than that," he grunted and pulled her by one shoulder to spin her around to face him. She felt her cheeks flush hot again and she shyly avoided looking him in the eyes as he leaned in to plant gentle kisses behind her ear. But as she closed her eyes, surrendering herself to his desires, she grew emboldened by his passion and moaned softly. Before he could gain too much control over her, however, she had found a continuous row of knee-high crates and was pushing him down to lie on top of them. She sat on her haunches on his waist, leaning over to plant a slow, delicious kiss on his lips.

"You took care of me all day," she said in a hushed voice between kisses. "Now let me take care of you." She clutched at his shirt molded flush with his muscled torso underneath and migrated her hand down to feel his hardness straining against the confines of his pants.

"Damn," he marveled as she dry-humped him through their clothing. "Redheads do love sex…." And he pulled her head in for another eager kiss.

"Your mouth tastes like carrots," she mused.

He scoffed a little through his nose. "Yours, too."

And despite their mutual preoccupation with each other, she started to giggle and pulled away from him to stifle her grin under one hand.

"We just ate carrots—and now we're going at it—We really are—like rabbits."

She grinned, closing her eyes with the force of her breathless chuckling, and she felt the tickle of his breathing on her face from his own quiet laughter. He planted a quick kiss on her lips through his smiling. They continued dry-humping for another minute out of mutual desperation, then Levi pulled her hoodie off and pulled her back down to lean over him again. Her newly freed breasts peeped out over the hem of her nightgown, tantalizingly illuminated by the light from her ring.

"This is so fucking risky," he muttered. "What the hell are we doing…. After we already got told off just for hugging in public…." But in contrast to his words, he dragged his lips smoothly down the curve of her neck and began to kiss her chest, savoring the softness of the tops of her breasts against his lips.

"They could lock us in here if they find us, that's true…. But I thought you liked it risky…." She slid her hand down and undid the fly of his pants.

"I thought you did." He returned the gesture by sliding his hand down around the back of her ass, pulling her bloomers and underwear down her thighs.

She moaned quietly in anticipation. "I do." She pulled away to sit on his lap and close her legs, and he followed her lead by pulling her undergarments down the rest of the way and off around her shoes. She pulled them free from his grip, tossed them on top of the pile of her hoodie, and coyly tucked her hair behind her ears before leaning back over him for another long, indulgent kiss.

"It's only been four days—since we did this," she sighed as they broke away for air. "How can it have only been four days?"

She gave way to another quiet moan in his ear as he caressed around her bare ass with his hand, pulling her down around him. She pressed her eyelids shut and gave a throaty sigh through closed lips at the sensation of his thick, hard length cleaving into her, probing her deeply with a sensual thrust of his hips.

"I was worried you'd—get cold in a nightgown," he whispered, "but dresses are pretty convenient…."

They panted heavily into each other's necks as he throbbed and pulsed upward against her most pleasurable spot inside her. And she gave a quiet gasp as he pulled her down around himself even further, pressing his tip against her cervix. The sensitivity caused her to squeak a little, but he clapped his hand over her mouth and glared at her intensely through the pleasure, as if in silent admonishment.

He swore that he would never get enough of the sight of her squeezing her eyes shut as he pleasured her, nor the sound of her breathy moaning in his ear in her lovely voice that drove him to clutch his hand around her ass even more firmly as he moved inside her, bridging himself upward as she rode downward onto him. Thus, they met in the middle, moving in unison as they held onto each other and fought to keep themselves quiet as their pleasure tortuously built and expanded.

"I'm gonna cum," he panted into her ear. "What do I do?"

"Keep going—cum inside me—" she whispered into his neck. She tilted her head back as he clutched her thighs ever more tightly, and surely enough, he held his breath and released himself inside her, surrendering all the pent-up stresses from the day they had spent together. She vaguely wondered if this was the time he would inadvertently leave bruises where his fingers were gripping around her thighs; she would just have to be extra careful to keep the hem of her skirt pulled down….

Through their breathless panting, he pulled her head down for a kiss on the lips, resurfaced for air, and kissed her again, caressing the base of her head with his hands. He felt her squeezing herself around him and he sighed into her mouth mid-kiss.

"I love you," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

"Good," she whispered back.

"But I think we'd better—see about cleanup…." So he sat up under her and gently pushed her off of him. He pointedly overlooked his still-standing erection and reached over to squeeze her thighs shut. "You're gonna leak out unless you hold your legs together…."

"Yeah," she sighed and pulled her undergarments back over towards her.

"Wait—" he produced two handkerchiefs from his butt pocket and gave one to her—"Line your panties with this—" and he used the second one to methodically clean himself off while she folded up the cloth and lay it over the gusset of her panties, then slid both her undergarment layers back on around her shoes. He fixed his underwear back over himself and refastened the fly of his pants, and other than a slimy handkerchief he had to shove into his left front pocket with a grimace, any onlookers would be none the wiser.

"Give me the ring back," he said quietly, and he pulled it back off her finger and shoved it securely into the bottom of his right front pocket.

"Time to go, huh?" She pulled her hoodie back on over her head and wiggled her arms back into the armholes.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

Thankfully, they were able to creak the container door back open just enough to slide themselves back out, and there still seemed to be nobody monitoring the area. Levi took around five seconds to replace the locking bolts and levers outside the doors, and just like that, they walked away as nonchalantly as they could, avoiding touching each other.

"We are not—doing this again here," Levi decided aloud.

"You're right," Petra mumbled, now feeling a vague sense of regret creep in. "Shit—how long am I gonna have to be this wet…?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. "All I know is, nobody'd better get a runny nose or anything else, 'cause I just used up all my handkerchiefs."

She started giggling quietly to herself. "I just gave you the time of your life, and you're already whining about cleaning supplies?"

He gave a smirk as they locked eyes. "Of course. Don't you know me well enough by now?"

And she smiled knowingly back. "I suppose I do…."

Upon returning to their living quarters, the first floor area was blessedly only one-third full. Mr. and Mrs. Ral were lolling about on the floor on top of the family's allotted blanket, but they stood up and handed it to Petra when they came in the door.

"Are you sure?" Petra asked them. "I have my hoodie and Levi has his cloak…."

"No no no," Mrs. Ral insisted. "It's about time we stretched our legs, too. You two rest."

And the senior Rals dusted off the seats of their bottoms and made their way towards the door.

Petra turned to Levi as she spread the blanket out on the open corner. "Why don't we just—take a nap?"

"Yeah." He flopped his rucksack down, immediately helped himself to a seat on the blanket, and buried his face in the crook of his elbow.

"There's enough room for us to lie down," she suggested, and she lay down next to him to demonstrate. "You seem to get more tired after we do it," she whispered. "Your eyes look a little heavier afterward..." She reached over for his hand and pulled him down to lie next to her. When she rolled onto her side to regard him carefully in the bluish dimness, he gazed back at her through hooded eyes already drooping shut.

"My head gets a little foggy for a while..." he admitted in little more than a whisper back. She gave a tiny smile and caressed his ear with her forefinger.

"Then sleep," she whispered in his ear. She wiggled in closer, feeling their bodies touch; he pushed the edge of his cloak over her body to share their warmth with each other, then pulled her body flush with his under the makeshift covers. And using their arms curled underneath their heads as pillows, they drifted off to sleep together for the first time in months.

Some time later, Levi regained consciousness to notice Mr. and Mrs. Ral returning to their side. Levi lifted his head and shifted himself to sit half-upright, still feeding his cloak to drape over Petra as she continued to nap.

"How long has it been?" Levi asked. "A couple hours, maybe?"

"It's a big world out there, even down here," Mr. Ral chuckled. "We might have gotten a little lost."

But Mr. Ral's face grew stern as he tilted his head and crossed his arms.

"Could I have a quick word with you outside, Captain?"

Levi nodded silently and got to his feet, nimbly replacing his cloak around Petra's body with the other half of the blanket that he had been lying on. He ducked out the open front door to find her father already waiting for him, eyeing him with an air of seriousness that only he, Levi, could match.

"My wife and I are getting old, Captain," Mr. Ral stated plainly. "We don't need much food to get by."

But his brow furrowed now as the worry crept into his voice.

"But Petra's young, and with a baby on the way."

And Levi jerked his head a little in surprise as Mr. Ral clapped his hands on his shoulders, as he himself would often do to others to bolster his own points.

"You feed her everything you got. All right?"

Mr. Ral gave Levi one last good shake of the shoulders before letting go and hanging his head sadly.

"If there were more we could do, we'd do it," he muttered, seeming to deflate the longer he spoke. "But if you're an active-duty soldier, you have special permissions we don't. So please…."

A fierce, determined look blazed in Levi's eyes as he gave one last curt nod to him. "I will. And I'll bring a bit for the both of you, too."

"Oh no, you don't. You give it all to her. That's your child in her belly, too; there's no one who needs it more."

In another moment, Levi was back inside, kneeling next to Petra while he slung his rucksack back over his shoulders.

"Petra," he whispered to her. He gave her shoulder a brief shake, and she snapped her head up and opened her eyes, focusing on his face in the darkness.

"I have to go," he continued. "But I'll be back. Keep resting with your parents."

She frowned. "Where are you going?"

"For food. Remember?" He held both her hands in his, grasping them securely. "I won't let you starve. I promised your father. And now I'm promising you."

He stood up and made his way to the door, but she stubbornly shifted the blanket off of herself, handed it to her mother, and trailed after him.

"Your leg still hurts, doesn't it?" she said a little more loudly, now that she was outside the building. "You need to rest. Maybe I can go instead of you…."

He stopped and swiveled around to take her hands in his. "I'll be fine. Besides, you're not allowed to leave right now. You still have your intel clearance, but you can't move around as freely as an active-duty soldier."

She hung her head guiltily, giving his hands a squeeze. "You shouldn't be walking around so much, just to feed me..."

"I have to go walking around. Because I have to feed you. I'm the only one who can do it."

He left her at the front door to her housing quarters, and she watched him disappear into the crowd. The people were quickly dispersing as they trickled indoors, seeming sluggish and bored from spending all day conserving what little energy they had derived from their one tiny loaf of bread per day. But by the time the crowd had thinned enough to see more than a handful of people deep, Levi was already long gone. She cast her gaze upward, peering up into the starless night into a cloud of furry black bats chirruping and dispersing to forage for food themselves, and she thought of her dutiful husband, already shouldering the burden of providing for a family while unseen dangers still lurked above their heads and all around them.

Later that evening, while Petra lay slumped against a corner wall in her living quarters, closing her eyes and drifting in and out of sleep, Levi gently shook her awake with his hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes blearily and murmured, "Huh…?"

"Petra," he whispered in her ear. "Are you hungry?"

She closed her eyes again to self-assess, and she frowned miserably and nodded.

"Let's go," he whispered again, and he helped her to her feet. They carefully tiptoed around other people's legs and huddled bodies until they reached the back door, then slipped out and closed the door quietly behind them.

"Look," he said, slightly louder now that they were relatively alone in the back alleyway. He pulled out his rucksack and let her peer down into its contents: four field ration biscuits wrapped in wax paper packaging, an aluminum drinking mug with a handle, a handkerchief bundled and knotted around a couple of rounded ovals, four toothbrushes, and two jars of toothpaste. His waterskin was nestled snugly off to the side next to the items, bulging full again.

"It's not that much, I know," he sighed. "But I'll have more time tomorrow."

After wandering through the streets for a few minutes, Levi decided to stop at a crate pushed flush against a wall (an outdoor configuration that showed up so commonly in the Underground). He took a seat on the crate and unknotted the bundled handkerchief to reveal two brown speckled chicken eggs, which he added to his aluminum mug before adding water from his waterskin. He then built a kindling fire from wood splinters, a handful of ripped-up paper, and a few scraps of lint he dug out from his pants pockets. He struck his two flint pieces together to land a spray of sparks onto his nest of kindling, and the fire started and grew to consume everything he had offered it.

"You're pushing yourself more than you should, running around out there just to get me food," Petra sighed, still reiterating the same concern from earlier; she rubbed her head sheepishly at the extent of his provisions. "You need to rest."

He gave a businesslike shake of his head. "I redirected my salary so I could help provide for you. But money doesn't matter here and now. So I'm gonna make sure you have enough food. Whatever it is I have to do."

While the eggs simmered in the boiling water for some minutes, Levi pulled out his hunting knife and carved the initials of each Ral on the handle of each toothbrush: P for Petra, M for Mother, F for Father, and L for Levi. When he determined that they had boiled for long enough, he wrapped his cloak around one hand and pulled his mug away from the flame. He reached his hand out for Petra's mug and poured out the water into it while holding the two eggs inside his own mug.

"Now we can use the boiled water for tea, too," he said. He pulled out one of the lavender tea satchels from the front pouch of his rucksack and dropped it in the bubbling water to brew.

She smiled eagerly and took one of the eggs from his mug. "One egg for each of us, right?"

"No, they're both for you."

"Huh? What about you, though?"

"I ate a biscuit. I'm fine."

She heaved a sigh, gave a murmured "Thank you, then", and peeled and ate the eggs voraciously, although letting her mouth hang open while she panted to vent some of the heat and covered her mouth with one hand out of practiced politeness. As he watched her eat, a bit of a spark returned to his eyes as she apparently relished the taste of hot food.

He offered her a biscuit from his rucksack as well, but she declined with a raised palm.

"Save it for tomorrow," she insisted. "But thanks."

After she was done eating, Levi brought Petra to a sewage canal flowing steadily between the apartments. And they brushed their teeth together with the help of Levi's waterskin, and they spit out into the murky brown water.

"You can't see a single thing down there," she murmured, gazing curiously down into the flowing muck.

"At least it doesn't stink quite as bad as that shit barrel," he grumbled. "But the stink does take getting used to…."

His eyes narrowed as he recollected something that brought a scowl to his lips.

"You probably don't want to see what's down there, to be honest. When people die down here, a lot of times the MPs don't even show up to take the bodies. So they drop the bodies in there."

"Oh," she said quietly, almost in a whisper. "That's… horrible." She stared into the water, unable to stop herself from imagining even his own mother ending up down there….

He sighed. "People from here aren't citizens. So, they're not really considered people. Even when they die."

He took their toothbrushes from her hands, shook them dry, and dried them a little more on the fabric of his cloak. She helped him wear his rucksack again, but she wouldn't budge when he tried to guide her away from the water's edge. She took his hands in hers and peered into his eyes forlornly.

"Look, Levi," she began. "Please don't feel like you have to spare me the gruesome details if… if it helps to talk about it."

He pursed his lips, seeming uncertain, but she gave a resolute nod and continued:

"I'm a Scout, too, remember? I can handle it. So… thank you for telling me."

She looked down at her hands holding his (and their toothbrushes still clutched in one of his hands), and she gave them one last reassuring squeeze before letting them hang at his sides again. He tucked the toothbrushes into the front pocket of his rucksack, leaving the flap unclasped so the toothbrush heads were exposed to dry. She pulled his sleeve to lead him away from the water, but after a few steps, he pulled her in for a grateful hug.

"Sometimes I think to myself that I can't possibly deserve you," he admitted.

"Oh, come on," she insisted. "I should be the one saying that to you. I mean, you even thought to bring toothbrushes."

"Of course I did. I think of everything."

She grinned as she pulled out of his embrace. "You sure do."

They let themselves in the front door and tiptoed cautiously around their sleeping floormates lining the walls and covering the floor with their hunched, blanketed forms. And when they reached the far corner where Mr. and Mrs. Ral were still sleeping soundly under their shared blanket, Levi and Petra curled up against the wall up under his cloak. Even though they both wore their hoods up, they touched their heads together.

"You know," Petra whispered to him, "I think this is the first time you actually spent the night…."

"The first night we'll actually get any sleep, you mean?" he whispered back teasingly.

"Shh," she admonished him. "My parents are right next to us."

She felt his chest quiver a little with his stifled chuckle. "Well, they're parents: they're not stupid."

And she also could not help but give a tiny giggle of her own before she finally started drifting back to sleep.

In the morning, Petra awakened with a little jerk of her head. She immediately felt nauseous, and she gagged and clapped a hand to her mouth. Levi opened his eyes and stared at her, still holding her in his arms from when they had fallen asleep.

Mrs. Ral stirred and half-whispered to Levi next to her, "Sounds like morning sickness. From an empty stomach…."

Levi helped Petra to her feet at once and pulled her by the wrist to the bathroom, stumbling over other people's huddled bodies and limbs, just in time for her to transition from dry heaving into vomiting what little runny slop there was in her stomach into the toilet barrel. The malodorous fumes of human waste accumulated in it was already stomach-churning to begin with; having to hover her face over it only made her more nauseous.

"Here. Rinse your mouth," he told her, sticking his waterskin in front of her. She reached for it gratefully and swished some water around her cheeks, then spit it out into the waste barrel. He pursed his lips and dragged the lid back over it, mercifully shutting the stink in with it.

He then took Petra outside the front door, creaking it shut behind them. He looked around briefly to confirm that no one was watching, then he rummaged his hand around in his rucksack and pulled out a field ration biscuit for her, unwrapping an end before handing it to her. She took a tentative nibble, then a larger bite to humor him. But the taste did not agree with her at all, and she gagged and coughed it out onto the ground.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She gave a miserable sniffle and tucked her hair back behind her ears, her head still hanging low and her eyes cast downward. "I don't know why, but it just doesn't taste right…." And she closed her eyes and lifted the biscuit to her lips again, chewing as little as possible and reaching for the waterskin for a gulp to wash it down as fast as possible.

Levi sighed and resolved to double down on his efforts to put together more appealing food for her that evening.

Unfortunately, that evening brought the news that made every Scout quiver with anxious dread: the casualty list. Levi had returned to their building with a rucksack full of food and the telltale paper scroll clenched in his hand, and as soon as Petra saw it, she bolted upright and rushed to the door to meet him.

"Show it to me," she demanded, her voice set.

"We'll go to our usual spot, and I'll show you." He gazed past her at her parents watching them in the gloom, gave them a grim nod, and took Petra by the hand.

They hurried over to their usual corner and while Levi set up a tiny fire over which to boil eggs as usual, Petra read the list, her eyes darting urgently across the names.

"Miche, Nanaba, Gelgar, Lynne, Henning... Oh my God. So many..."

He shook his head. "And it never gets easier."

"But Conny? That boy with the buzz cut?"

"He's still alive. The only one left from Ragako Village…."

"Miche and Nanaba... They hardly had any time to be together." She rolled the paper back up absentmindedly, furling the paper more and more tightly around itself as she beheld her handiwork. "Do you think they were... happy?"

He stared into the tiny flames lapping at the underside of his mug. "I hope so."

"I wonder if they're watching us," she sighed. "If they know we're thinking about them."

He pursed his lips. "Who knows."

After a long minute or so, he reached a hand out for the paper, and she tentatively passed it back to him. He took one last look at the names for himself, etching them into his memory for the last time, and he stuck the paper into the flames, watching it be consumed into heat for them to use to eat, to live, to keep moving forward.

So every day, Levi would take a trip to the Surface at nightfall and return with a messenger's scroll to read together and burn to leave no trace. And of course, he had food hidden in his rucksack and cloak pockets for her: various, nutritious foods that kept well. Apples, apricots, carrots, mushrooms—anything other than bread. And he continued to bring her eggs, which he boiled by starting another kindling fire under a metal pot with water from his waterskin. He brought a towel with him from then on, too, and they would shampoo and comb each other's hair. And when they were done, he lent his rucksack to her parents so they could do the same. His industriousness about their daily hygiene, from their hair to their teeth, helped teach her that even when homeless and living out of a rucksack, there was still a standard they could maintain for themselves—a self-given dignity that was always worth pursuing, rather than curling up helplessly in a corner and waiting for the world to end.

Every night after he showed back up at their living quarters, he'd take her by the hand to any secluded place they could find (and with everyone trying to get some sleep by then, it was easier to find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes). He would feed her slowly, urging her to take her time. And though it cut him like a knife to admit it out loud, he said to her:

"At least you're not getting any thinner, but your face is still too thin. Thinner than when I left you back at your house."

She swallowed her bite of mushroom and sadly hung her head.

And he continued, "You need to eat slowly, or your stomach might hurt more." He viscerally recalled the feeling of ravenous hunger when Kenny had rescued him from the foot of his mother's bed. Eating and drinking so fast he hardly had time to inhale between bites, and then feeling ill and sick to his stomach from going from no food to too much of it at once. And it hurt him more than any suffering to his own body to have to see his pregnant wife suffer in the same way.

"Thank you. For all the food… and everything," she squeaked out, her voice thin and weary. "I wish I could go with you, too, and help… and not be such a burden…."

"You're not," he insisted. "None of this is your fault." He heaved a sigh. "I wish I could take you back up, but they're still combing over Wall Rose and all the territory inside it."

"Well, there's food out there," she pointed out. "Where are you getting it all from, if it's too dangerous to go around?"

He took a pause before responding, "I probably shouldn't say."

She sniffed a tiny chuckle. "Well, you know what I think? We're right under Mitras, where the nobles live. I think you've been sneaking into their orchards in the dark and helping yourself."

"Tch. Remember those were your words, not mine."

And she giggled just the slightest bit before biting off the rest of the mushroom top in her hand.

After Levi had spent almost a week Underground with the Rals, only going back to the Surface at night, he started to get a little thinner. Nobody noticed but Petra when she would hug his body close at night: his shirt started to feel a little looser around his torso and his muscles less substantially built. He kept insisting that he was eating biscuits or fruit on his own before returning to feed her, but whatever food he was supplementing himself with did not seem to be enough, either. Petra did not know how to bring it up to him, and she eventually decided that there would be no point in drawing attention to a problem that had no realistic solution. He was ultimately in the same predicament that the rest of them were in: waiting, keeping busy with the tasks of daily survival, and praying that things would improve the longer they went without news to the contrary.

In about a week since the Rals had descended Underground, coinciding suspiciously with the exhaustion of the food stockpile, the government indeed declared the territory within Wall Rose to be free of Titans, and everyone was herded in a lumbering mass out of the Underground City and on the road back home. And when they finally emerged from the tunnel and returned to the daylight, the warmth of the sun upon their faces felt like the best thing in the world. It filled Petra up from the outside in and granted her a surge of energy to keep on walking—and they did have hours of walking before they would finally be home. Walking next to her and holding her hand, Levi took a deep breath and tilted his head back, basking in the light and seeming to awaken a little more with every minute, too. The journey was long, but somehow, journeying under the sun made it much less tiring.

After shuffling along on foot, standing on the crowded barges floating down the river, and trudging along for hours more, at long last, they arrived at Trost District again, and finally at the front door to their tiny house. Levi stood awkwardly in front of the door, then turned to Petra and commented:

"You know… you never gave me a key to the front door."

After a brief moment of consideration, Mr. Ral burst out laughing.

"You're absolutely right! We'll look into that as soon as possible, Captain." And he stepped up and pulled out his key to let the family in.

"Hmm, I wonder why we never thought of that," Petra mumbled as she filed in through the open door. "Maybe you're just not here for that long at a time. You've never even stayed the night…."

Levi and Petra looked at each other, standing still while her parents had already wandered past them into the kitchen. Levi closed the door behind him and locked it from inside.

"I can stay tonight," he said quietly.

"Really?" she pressed him, suddenly eager. "What about tomorrow?"

"Probably not."

They smiled bittersweetly at each other nevertheless.

"But I'm here now," he assured her. "I hope that can be enough…."

Her smile grew wider, and when her mother shoved a candle into her hands, her eyes shone in the flickering candlelight. "Whatever you have to give is enough."

And he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll start hauling water. How's that?"

"Good idea," Mrs. Ral called out from the kitchen. "Cooking water first, then bath water. We'll fix something for dinner while you're at it."

"Petra, come over and help us," Mr. Ral added.

Petra smiled again at Levi and started digging around in her hoodie pocket. "I guess you'll need a key already." She pulled out her copy of the door key and handed it to him. "You keep it. I'll get another one."

He gave a tiny nod. "Sounds good."

After multiple trips to the neighborhood well with a water bucket in each hand, Levi finally stopped in the kitchen with his last load of water.

"We can boil this last bit of water to heat up the bath, and for tea," he offered.

"Perfect," Petra gushed. "Thank you for bringing the water." She pulled him in for a grateful hug, which he briefly reciprocated with a pat on the back of her shoulder.

"Dinner is served!" Mrs. Ral declared proudly as she set down a large serving plate of pan-fried vegetables on a trivet on the table.

"Ooh ooh, let's get some water," Petra added, filling up a pitcher with some of Levi's water to fill their mugs.

"Fill 'er up, honey," Mr. Ral said, helping himself to his seat and sticking out his mug. She grinned at his cheekiness and obliged, then filled the rest of the mugs in turn.

Mr. Ral took a long swig of water and gave a satisfied "Ahhh" as he set his mug back down. "Well, it's good to return home and settle back down with a home-cooked meal. Enough pilfering from orchards in the dead of night, eh?" he chuckled, eyeing Levi with a knowing glance.

"I could do with a break from that, sure," Levi replied in equal good humor.

"That really was what you were doing, huh?" Petra asked. "Climbing over brick walls and fences… did you at least use your ODM gear?"

"That'll be my secret," he smirked. "Now eat."

Petra smiled to herself, looking down at her plate of piping-hot vegetables colored green, yellow, orange, and purple, and over at Levi, then at her parents. She speared a coin of orange sweet potato and bit down on its edge: the skin was deliciously sticky with caramelized juice, and the flesh inside was even more so. And now that she had gotten the first taste, the rest of the family proceeded to dig in, too. It was crazy to think of the lengths they had all just had to go through to have a simple family dinner together at their house. But somehow, having to go through all those trials to arrive at this moment made the moment taste even sweeter.

Chapter 18: Premonition

Summary:

Despite still spending long periods of time away, Levi finally settles into a more normal domestic life with Petra. Unfortunately, the ongoing troubles for the Survey Corps loom ever larger in their minds, which Petra must balance with the demands of daily life.

Notes:

Yes, one last update for the time being! I've just been vibing hard to the Recommended Soundtrack song, and I stayed in The Zone for the past several days until I was done writing. I won't be able to continue publishing new chapters this often, but the holidays (and a mystery holiday illness that I tested COVID-negative for twice, even though I have suspiciously COVID-looking symptoms) have given me more time at home to write. My health has been slowly improving, and it seems that I won't die, so worry not: the fanfic will continue!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"let go" – m-flo loves YOSHIKA

After eating dinner, the Ral household all took turns brushing their teeth over the bathroom sink with a shared bucket of water, then Levi and Petra did the dishes to free up her parents to use the bathroom and go to bed. Levi had offered to get more bath water, but Mr. Ral shoved him back into the tiny kitchen and said:

"No, Captain, you've done enough running around in the dark. We'll take bucket baths like always while you clean up in here."

So Levi returned to Petra's side at the kitchen sink, using the water from the basins, a dish soap bar, and washcloths to clean and dry the family's frying pan, dishes, utensils, and mugs. After nothing more than a brief moment to size up Petra washing dishes and setting them on a towel to be dried, Levi fell into step easily, pulling out the nearest drawer and finding more towels conveniently organized, and he dried the dishes she had just washed. She glanced over at him as he opened the higher-level cabinets for the correct places to store the dry dishes and she smiled to herself, thinking about the family they had now: two generations under one roof, with a third one on the way. And Captain Levi, the man of her dreams and longtime secret fantasies, was her doting husband: content to simply be by her side, caring, patient, and steadfast. He glanced back at her and their eyes met shyly, searching for an affirmation from the other that they both felt the same way: this moment now was domestic bliss, and these moments were the ones they cherished most.

"Do you want to drink tea?" Levi asked her at last. "Do you still have that lavender tea I got you?"

"Hmm," she murmured, casting her gaze around the kitchen to confirm that they were done. "Maybe…." She turned her head to look squarely at him and asked hopefully, "Could we drink tea while we're in the bath? And just relax?"

He gave a nod. "Sure."

Upstairs in her bedroom, they emptied their pockets onto her desk as they prepared to take a bath. Petra pulled out her identification papers from her hoodie pocket and stuck them in the top right desk drawer. And Levi dug into his own pants pockets on the surface of her desk, producing her Iceburst Stone ring from his right pocket and his handkerchief out of his left pocket. He seemed unperturbed at having to handle the handkerchief with his bare hands again, and she leaned in and gave it a tentative poke to see whether it was still dirty from their last encounter….

"Huh," she commented. "It looks like you already cleaned it, huh?"

"Yeah, I used that soap bar on it at some point."

"Umm," she mumbled, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. "But your other handkerchief is still…." She blushed a little more and squeezed her legs together, noting the stiffness of the dried fabric against her skin. "I guess I'll add it to the laundry pile." And she averted her gaze in embarrassment.

"That's fine. You can just give it back to me next time," he assured her.

She gave a hushed sigh, relieved that he was not making a big deal of it. After all, she supposed, putting the handkerchief in her underwear had been his idea….

Back downstairs, Levi glanced around the painfully tiny bathroom to take in the sight of a simple sink draining directly into the earth below it; a stool, a wooden bucket, and a water scoop shoved against a corner; a drainage hole in the middle of the room; and a thin metal bath basin leaning on its side on the wall. And he silently marveled at how the Rals would manage to draw a real bath in there at all because there simply was not enough floor space for the tub to even lie down. Petra peeped over his shoulder and picked up on his skepticism at once; she started to giggle from behind the stack of folded pajamas in her arms.

"Levi. The bathtub just gets stored in the bathroom. We put it out in the kitchen if we want a soaking bath instead of a bucket bath."

He raised an eyebrow and tracked her as she reached out with one hand to tug the tub down from the wall.

"Here, I got it—" he insisted, taking the tub handle from her and dragging the tub out to the kitchen. Even in its most space-saving formation, the tub still pressed against the kitchen wall on one end and the dining chair legs on the other end. He heaved a sigh and took up a bucket to start transferring water from the storage barrel in the corner of the kitchen into the tub.

"I know, it's pretty crazy how we even have a tub at all, huh?" she sighed wistfully, and she set down her armload of clothing to change into on the seats of one of the dining chairs. "My father got one in the hopes that I'd give up on joining the Cadets."

He raised an eyebrow. "Seems like a strange way to try to persuade someone…."

She shrugged. "He said, 'Soldiers don't get to take hot baths like you can here. If you leave home now, you're gonna regret it!'"

A rueful glimmer sprang to his eyes at hearing her retelling. She gave a wistful smile and ducked back into the bathroom for a few moments, then reemerged with two bath towels for them.

"You're a daddy's girl; he just wanted to keep you close." He paused. "And pamper you, I guess."

She sighed again, more heavily now, flopping down onto one of the dining chairs to start undoing her shoes.

"You should start bringing some clothes to keep here in the house," she suggested to him. "All I have for you are my father's pajamas and underwear, and my button-down shirts and pants I wear with my Scout uniform—good thing we're around the same size with the shirts, at least…."

And she kicked off her shoes and socks and reached down for the hem of her nightgown to pull it off over her head.

He shot a momentary glance at her topless form, but he quickly refocused himself on pouring out the hot water from the full teakettle in his hands. "You get in and get started while I brew that tea."

"Okay," she said while she slid her undergarments off, with his handkerchief still tucked inside her underwear. He caught a peep of her nude backside before turning to return the teakettle to the stove, and she sensed his eyes on her. But by the time she turned her head to catch him in the act, he was already busying himself with fetching more water from the barrel to boil for their tea. She gave a smirk to herself and stepped into the bathtub: the water was so warm that it was almost hot, but not uncomfortably so. As her butt rested on the bottom of the basin, she closed her eyes and focused on the glowing heat diffusing through her.

"A warm bath," she sighed to herself, leaning her head back to rest on the edge of the tub. "Thank God…."

"That's the thanks I get?" Levi snorted. "I do all the work, and God gets all the credit?"

She gave a cheeky laugh. "Thank you, Levi..."

After a minute of soaking in the heat of the water, Petra reluctantly opened her eyes again and got started on cleaning her body. Levi relit the flame on the stove to boil more water, and then there was nothing left for him to do but wait—and watch her through stolen glances out of the corners of his eyes as she lathered up from her hair to her feet, turning the water steadily opaquer with soapy runoff. She smiled to herself, no doubt aware of his eyes on her, and when she managed to catch his gaze head-on, he peered at her unblinkingly, seeming to be swimming in a full head of thoughts beyond mere sexual desire. The sight of her seemed to arouse, intrigue, and trouble him; she frowned slightly at the turmoil inside him, and she turned her attention back to cleaning herself, unsure of what else to do.

By the time Levi was ready with a teacup and saucer balanced in each hand, Petra was already done shampooing and rinsing her own hair and washing her face and body. The water was cloudy white with soap, and in it sat Petra, wet and clean from head to foot. She turned her head the slightest bit to watch him take a seat back on the chair next to her, and she grimaced a little when she glanced down at the water lapping against her legs.

"Sorry. I got the water grimy before you even got a turn."

"It's fine. That's what's supposed to happen when you bathe." He handed her one of the teacups and set both their saucers down on the seat of the nearest chair. "You steeped yourself just like the tea," he commented with a hint of amusement.

She edged over to one side of the basin and pulled her legs closer to her chest to try to make room for him, although she felt a twinge of discomfort in her belly at the pressure on her baby bump, so she was unable to yield much more. "I don't know if two people will even fit in this tiny thing," she murmured uneasily. "I mean, I've never tried it…."

"Okay. First time for everything." And he started to undress. "Worse comes to worst, I'm kicking you out 'cause it's my turn."

"Oh really. Well, I think it's time to have a taste of this," she giggled and took her first sip of her tea as she took furtive glances at his black clothing from head to foot giving way to reveal his well-muscled backside. "Ahh, lavender," she sighed; the gentle aroma wafted upward into her face, making her eyelids just a little heavier.

"Lavender is good for bedtimes." He set his pants and underwear down on the back of the chair and reached for his teacup to take his first sip as well.

"It's really good and soothing," she gushed. "Thank you…."

The candlelight glimmered in his eyes as his head tilted ever so slightly.

He was standing naked before her now, and she glanced away, trying not to blush as he got in the other side of the tub, still facing her. But despite her best efforts not to stare, her thoughts still lingered on the sight of him, comparing what he looked like flaccid versus erect….

At length, she spoke again: "You seem to like sending surprise packages to me. I never got to thank you before."

He gave a smug smile through closed lips. "I'm glad you like them."

While he washed his face and shampooed his hair, he felt her fingers threading in between his to help him scrub his scalp.

"Let me help," she cooed, and he sighed and let his hands drop under the water. When he closed his eyes, he could focus on her hands massaging shampoo into every inch of his scalp, somehow both gently and firmly in equal measures. He splashed water onto his face as she cared for his hair, and when she pulled her hands away, he dunked his whole head underwater momentarily to rinse off. And she smirked in amusement to behold the uncommon sight of his wet hair slicked against his head. But in another moment, he was dragging his fingers through his top hair to restore its volume, and now he looked much the same as he did when his hair was dry. Even so, the warmth of the candle's glow shimmered brilliantly against his hair, casting him in an even more vividly feral appearance.

In between sips of tea, they continued to steal quiet glances over at each other. She finished her tea first, and while he finished his own tea, she continued to relax, closing her eyes and leaning her head and shoulders back against the tub's edge. As he gazed upon her face, looking dreamy and calm in the glow from the candlelight, he noted with relief that in just the past day of journeying home, her face had regained its normal, healthy shape and color. But he also could not help but connect the image of her with other faces he had seen not too long ago: the sober, sleeping face of Annie Leonhart, enshrined in an impenetrable crystal and illuminated by torchlight; and a Titan's stonily emotionless face half-covered by stone, hidden within the Wall….

"Shit. I forgot to tell you that," he sighed, barely audibly.

"Hm?" She opened her eyes again. "Tell me what?"

"There was a Titan embedded in the Wall in Stohess. It was looking at us when it got uncovered…."

Her brow furrowed in sudden concern. "What? A Titan?" She fell silent for a few grim moments. "So… you saw the back of its head? Or its face?"

"Its face." He absentmindedly raised his curled knuckles to rest on his mouth. "It was facing inward."

She took a long pause to consider his words. "Towards the people in Stohess?"

He dipped his head. "Yeah."

A chilling silence swept over them. After a few speechless moments, Petra slumped back against her side of the tub again and stared listlessly at the surface of the water pooling around his body.

"Titans… attack people," she said aloud to help herself think. "They eat them, and then vomit them out. And we erected the Walls to protect us from them… but they've been inside the Walls this whole time, too? Ready to attack us someday…?"

Levi pressed his hands to his eyes, as if doing so would somehow squeeze the stress out of his mind. "It's always like this, isn't it? Whenever we discover something new, it only brings up more questions…." He lowered his hands again, also staring at the milky water caressing around her torso. "But I'm not the guy for finding answers."

She combed her fingers through her hair as she thought, gazing past her shoulder into the cloudy water. "You always say something like that: 'I don't know the answers'…."

"Too many things in life happen for no good reason. At this point, I leave the big questions to Erwin and Hange…."

Levi thought again about Annie, lying so infuriatingly silent inside that block of crystal, mocking them with their failure to extract any answers from her. And they didn't know how long she could manage to sleep—perhaps forever….

To give himself something to do other than ruminate endlessly on a dead end, he reached over to burrow his hand into the pocket of his pants still hanging on the back of the chair, then pulled out the lice comb. "Here—let me go through your hair one more time."

She nodded silently and tilted her head down for him to pore over the strands of her hair with the fine-toothed comb in long, firm pulls from her scalp to the tips of her hair. After some minutes of holding her head down for him, he pushed her upright and rotated her body so she faced away from him, and he combed one more time from the crown of her hair downwards, and from either side. The tub was indeed quite tiny, and unless their backs were both pressed up against opposite ends of the tub, they were spooning with their bodies touching. And although it was easier to stay focused on the task at hand when her breasts were facing away from him, it conversely did not help that he was so close to her that he could touch any part of her far too easily by sliding his hand around to her front—nor that his privates were also nearly touching her lower back, and he would have no way of hiding it from her if he grew erect while he was already cradling her body between his legs….

Thankfully, she spared him from his burgeoning lust by turning around, taking the comb from his hands, and pushing his head down to comb out his hair in return. It was quite quick to do his hair, taking just another couple of minutes to finish. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes at the touch of her breasts pressed up against his back when she reached up to get the comb all the way around to his forehead. And when she turned him back around to face her, she took one more minute to comb his hair from the front, and he gazed longingly at her through the curtain of his bangs the whole time until she grew shy under his attention and pulled the comb away at last.

"Neither of us had anything, huh?" she mused, rinsing the comb in the soapy water and patting it dry on top of one of the bath towels.

"I guess not."

In the candlelight of the tiny kitchen, the harsher angles of his face seemed softer and kinder, and the light in her eyes glowed even more beautifully when the darkness just at the fringes of their vision shrouded just enough of her in mystery to tantalize him to want to find out more. So, he pulled her into his arms even closer and consumed her lips in a desperate kiss; their mouths melted together in blissful contentment as the first kiss became the second, then third, then fourth. They kissed again and again, slowly but urgently as he cradled her body in his arms and held around her shoulders with his hands.

"It's nice having time for a change," he murmured between kisses.

"Time to go slow?" she whispered coyly, dragging her pointer finger down along his neck.

"Yeah…."

Their bodies were already pressed up tightly against each other, so it felt like the most natural thing in the world for their hands to start to wander over each other as well. His hand around her waist started migrating downward as hers made their way down his well-muscled chest, then his chiseled stomach, then one hand even further south to touch her fingertips to the underside of his shaft, teasing him erect with her stroking downward pressure. His sponginess grew firm and lengthened in the palm of her hand while he gazed intensely into her eyes, and he kissed her on her lower lip as he sighed and gripped around her ass in mounting eagerness.

"My parents are in bed already," she whispered again and squeezed her eyes shut as she felt his hands sliding down around her thighs.

"Good. "He breathed in the scent of her skin at the base of her earlobe and planted another long, indulgent kiss there. "Do you think you can be quiet anyway, though?"

She ran her hand slowly, teasingly, up the length of his hardened shaft under the water.

"Can you?"

He groaned quietly through half-closed lips, and she nudged the side of his neck with the tip of her nose. "I think it's time to go upstairs…."

"Funny how we always end up there, huh?" she chuckled, eliciting a rare, stifled chuckle from him before he engulfed her smile in another kiss and groaned quietly into her mouth.

They got out of the tub, reached for the towels, and took their time toweling each other dry in the dim candlelight, all the while still stealing full-bodied kisses from each other. She took her time in drying off his genitals in full arousal in her toweled hand while she teased his lips with half-formed kisses. He fought down the near-overwhelming urge to push her down over the kitchen table and unceremoniously fuck her from behind, and instead he pressed her towel around under her arms and tucked the ends in front of her breasts, like wrapping himself a present to unwrap later. The tub was quickly emptied through the drain in the bathroom floor, the teacups and saucers were set in the kitchen sink, and somehow they made it upstairs to her bedroom wearing only their towels. Levi deposited their dirty clothes on the back of her desk chair, Petra set the melting candle on her bedside table and their clean pajamas on the seat of the chair, and he shoved her down onto the twin mattress face-first and settled in right behind her.

"I guess you didn't have much time to get a bigger bed," he commented. "We're just going to have to lay on top of each other all night long…." He freed himself from his towel with one hand, then reached around her front to pull hers off in a decisive tug.

"But it's next on the list," she insisted. "After getting another copy of the door key, anyway."

She lay in his arms as he embraced her from behind, rubbing his thumb gently on the back of her hand. But this time, instead of pressing herself back against his erection as she normally would, she pried her hand out of his grasp and rolled over to face him; they gazed at each other quietly in the dim candlelight.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you really still that self-conscious… about my parents?"

He briefly glanced past her head at her bedroom door, closed shut and highly unlikely to be disturbed.

"No. I don't think they'll care…."

"Good," she whispered. She slid her hands around his shoulders and biceps, already noting an increase in his musculature since the previous night. Her fingertips touched lightly along the length of the thin, off-color lines of scars in various places on his upper body from his years of sustaining minor injuries. He noticed what she was doing and took her hand in his to refocus her; in the process, he also happened to see a small, subtle scar of her own, running across her left bicep. It happened to be positioned where a sleeve from any length would cover it, but any bare-shouldered dress would expose it. He vaguely remembered the time she had gotten injured there: the infirmary visit, the bloody bandages that sometimes stained her shirts during training for a week or so afterward, and him laundering her shirts and bleaching them white again to surprise her while she would nap her aching away. In truth, he had never been subtle about his concern for her, but he was never effective at denying his good deeds, either…. Her cheeks flushed a little with embarrassment when she noticed him staring at the scar line, but he leaned down and kissed her softly on the middle of the mark, as if to banish any lingering pain in her mind after the wound itself had healed. She sighed, feeling more at ease, and she pulled his head back up to kiss him again on the lips.

"I could… go down on you," she suggested in a whisper. "Do you want me to?"

"No," he murmured before kissing her again, on the side of her neck this time. "I don't want you to choke…." His gaze lingered on her swollen breasts, as tempting as ever, and he settled on planting one kiss on each nipple, dragging his lower lip upward on each one and feeling it grow hard.

"Oh. So that's why you never asked me to…" she sighed. And she held his head in her hands, forking her fingers through his hair as he played with her breasts.

"Yeah."

"What about after?" she asked, her voice husky, tantalizing. "Clean you up after?"

"Yeah." He migrated his hand down to her belly button, briefly noting the hard bump growing subtly underneath it, and continuing downward. "But you first." He opened her legs with his hands, running his fingers up the smooth undersides of her inner thighs. She quivered with anticipation, feeling the thrilling sensation of his touch and begging with her entire body for what was coming next.

And at first her breath caught in her throat, and then finally she gave a high-pitched squeak of a moan as his tongue found its mark right next to her clit, moving luxuriously in just the right way to make her grow swollen and sensitive. When he pleasured her with his tongue between her legs, it felt like the naughtiest thing they could ever do, and when she held his head in her hands, squeezed him in tight, and moaned indulgently in time with his caressing, she felt the sexiest she had ever felt in her entire life—or at least, until she orgasmed to the feeling of his mouth against her folds. He drank her in like the most delicious water he had ever tasted, firmly holding her in her state of ecstasy while he grasped around her thighs with his hands.

She sighed, "Oh," and panted urgently for some moments, clutching his hair and tipping her head back. "Okay—You second," she whispered, pushing his head away at last. She reached down for his hips to pull him up and into her, and he gave a low moan as he beheld her warm, silky-smooth wetness conjoining with his manhood. He pressed her thighs open as far as they would go, the roughness of his palms catching against the smoothness of her skin. As he sank her into her worn mattress with his body weight, plunging himself deeply into her, she squeezed her eyes shut more tightly and let loose a wheezing moan.

The bed frame squeaked rhythmically with his measured thrusts, and although the sound might have made them anxious earlier, they were both too far gone to care. His touch was admirably controlled, but firm; she squeezed herself around him and moaned through tightly closed lips, which drove him to press her body down more deeply into the mattress and ride her even harder. She opened her mouth again to give a moan more freely now, and he took advantage of this by kissing her on the lips to share her taste with her. They panted through their nostrils a few times as they continued to kiss while he thrusted, a little more quickly now, until finally he broke his lips away from her again and breathed raggedly against her ear as he approached his orgasm with rapidly rising enthusiasm. Her moan came out as a half-squeak as he climaxed inside her, and he thrusted her hips downward and held his breath as his pleasure encompassed his entire focus for a few blissful moments. And she moaned in rising panic as he continued thrusting beyond that, taking her the rest of the way until she tensed and pumped rhythmically around him in a deep, stormy orgasm of her own.

When he opened his eyes to take in the sight of her, lying panting and quivering in his arms, he was overcome by renewed admiration for how well the candlelight suited her. The warmth of the flame added a lovely softening to her features, causing her hair to glow and the amber of her eyes to shimmer. He decided that he would never grow tired of seeing her nude—and that if he could just relive this night with her again and again until the end of his life, that he would not dare to ask for any other happiness but this.

"It's cleanup time," she whispered, cocking her head to one side as their eyes met.

"You're—amazing…" he marveled, and he pulled himself out and sat them both upright. She tucked her hair behind her ears and took him into her mouth, taking her time to caress every inch of him as he held her head in his hands, watching her through half-closed eyes. She even slid her fingers up to pull his foreskin back, and her thoroughness made his legs weak at the hypersensitivity of his exposed tip against her tongue. But all too soon, she was done, and she reached for one of the towels left in the heap on the edge of the bed—it was no longer clear whose towel it was—and wiped her hand clean of their wetness.

He sighed in pure satisfaction and pulled her into his arms to cuddle her from behind.

"Will we ever make it through taking a bath together without—ending up having sex?" he asked, still breathing heavily.

She grinned and tapped her fingers to her lips. "Who knows. We'll just have to—take more baths together and find out..."

He nodded silently into her shoulder blades, embracing her even more tightly.

"Which means you… need to come back home. And stay a while for a change," she admonished him, and she turned her head to scrutinize him out of the corner of her eye.

"I did stay a while," he pointed out. "But—we weren't home."

"That's right," she sighed, turning her head back and sinking into the pillow. "It only partially counted."

He sat up and freed the covers out from underneath their bodies to cloak themselves in a cocoon of bedsheets, their bodies pressed flush against each other. Breathing in the scent that the soap left on her skin, and the freshness of the shampoo scent lingering in her hair, he sighed through his nostrils and caressed the back of her neck with his lips. She reached over and guided his hand around her to rest on her lower shoulder, so his arm held around her body and pulled her in as close as she would go.

"I love you," she whispered in the air.

"I love you, too," he mumbled, trailing off. She felt his erection fading against her as he started to drift off to sleep, holding her tightly in his arms as his body grew still, save for his steady breathing in her ear. And as the minutes passed and her own eyelids slowly grew heavy, she basked in the simple, warm, contented feeling of love—and of being loved.

At first light, Petra opened her eyes slowly and felt an emptiness next to her in the bed. Surely enough, when she rolled over, Levi was already gone. She sat up and surveyed her room, and she noticed his cloak folded neatly on her desk chair, and a freshly written letter left on the desk:

Dear Petra,

I left my cloak for you: use it well. I can get another one at the barracks. I'm sorry I didn't stick around for you to wake up. If you made it to reading this letter, you probably figured out that I had to leave again. I figured if you're healthy enough for sex (and my knee didn't hurt when we did it), then we're both healthy enough to carry on. And I worry that if I get too used to this, it'll only make it even harder to leave.

Hange was starting to get annoying anyway, sending those messengers to hunt me down every day. Eren has recovered, too, and Hange wants to run more experiments on him. It used to be all of us in my squad supervising these kinds of things, but now the plan is for me to have a new squad: those kids from the 104th Cadets. I hope they're ready because there's no time to wait until they are. We have to guard both Eren and Historia now, and enough things have gone wrong with guarding just Eren. Guarding both is going to take everything and everyone we have left.

The longer I stay with you, the harder it is to leave again. And the more I wish that it could last forever. But if I keep working hard for the Survey Corps, we'll make it there someday. If I do what I have to do right now, then later I can do what I want to do: come back home and be there with you. Until then, live a happy life and take good care of our baby. You can use some of our money to get a bigger bed so I'll still fit in it when I come back. Don't think about me too much, but don't forget about me, either.

I love you.

-Levi

"I love you, too," she murmured to his letter. It occurred to her that she was standing naked at her desk, feeling goosebumps springing up on her whole body, so she reached down for his cloak and flung it on to quell her shivering in the early morning air. He did not have time to launder it before leaving, so it still smelled like him: the comforting, familiar scent of his skin when he held her, or kissed her, or made love to her. She vaguely thought to herself that her family would not bother doing laundry for another day at least—probably only after any lingering exhaustion from their ordeal was finally behind them—and she decided that she wouldn't mind at all.

But after another few long, indulgent moments of hugging herself with his cloak around her, she heaved a sigh and pulled it back off. "Don't think about me too much" and "live a happy life," he had said—another piece of advice that rang in her head like another order from him. And Captain Levi's orders were always, always worth following.

She made her way to her closet, pulled out a clean shirt and shorts, added a set of underwear from her drawers, and after getting dressed, she headed out the door to go for a run.

After leaving the Rals' house at daybreak, Levi briefly returned to his room in the officers' barracks in Trost. He paused with his key in the keyhole, unable to stop his eyes from wandering over to the door to Miche's room. Just a week and a half ago, Miche had been right there, with that telltale rose petal stuck to his brown jacket. But now, Miche and Nanaba were dead. And their absence echoed hollowly through the hallway. Miche, who had been there since the day Levi had been dragged from the Underground into the Survey Corps—who Levi had started to take for granted would probably always be there at his and Erwin's side—was gone as suddenly as any other casualty. Did the other Scouts already clear out Miche's room? Was it as empty inside as it felt just to stand outside it? Who would the next casualty be? And he decided that he wouldn't mind not being back for a while.

Levi sighed quietly to himself, feeling his spirit withering, and a helpless rage slipped in to take its place. He went into his room, flung an empty rucksack on his chair, and started gathering necessities to take with him to the cabin where his new squad was waiting for him. All teenage brats from the 104th Cadet Class to help him protect the two most important people in their ranks: Eren and Historia. Important to the cause, important for humanity... but what about the people most important to him? When would the day truly come when he could be by Petra's side, regardless of how important she was to anyone else? She was the most important person to him now. He wanted to be there for her. And he shouldn't need any more reason than that.

A couple of changes of civilian clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, a couple of washcloths and handkerchiefs—from now on, he would make a point to pack more than two, just in case. He scoffed a little and shook his head at the recent memory, already fading into the background with all that lay ahead. There they had been, a horny couple just like always, choosing to forget. And no matter how badly they would wish that their time together would last forever, there would always be another reason that he would have to leave her side.

How selfish I am, he thought to himself, to keep on asking her to wait for me. There really are no guarantees. Just wishful thinking. I'm already an absent husband, and I'm gonna be an absent father, too. And she just keeps on forgiving me and waiting faithfully for me…. How does she do it?

He shook his head to clear his mind of his spiraling, unhelpful thoughts.

How do I do it? I guess 'cause there really is no other option. This is the life we chose. We couldn't stand it any other way. So, for as long as I live, I'll keep on making those promises—they're all I have left to give…. And she said that that would be enough.

When he was done packing, he gave a resolute nod to himself, slung his cloak over his clothing and his rucksack over his shoulder, and locked the door behind him.

The morning after Levi's departure, Petra received yet another surprise package on the doorstep: a thin, gold-plated chain necklace of adjustable length nestled in velvet bedding in a tiny wooden box. He had included a brief note:

Hang your ring on this to keep it out of the way when working with your hands, or to hide it in your shirt. There may be times when it would be more convenient not to have anything glow in the dark.

-Levi

She brightened up at the thoughtful gift, sitting up a little straighter at the kitchen table and eliciting knowing smirks from her parents.

"He only has one-fourth of his salary left to live on, and he's spending it on that," her father chuckled. "You've got him bewitched, I tell you…."

Her mother grinned broadly over her mug of tea. "After a night that special, he'd better be!"

Petra cleared her throat loudly and diverted her gaze from them. When she shifted her legs under the table, she could still feel a whisper of soreness inside her from the fervency of their lovemaking just two nights ago….

So, she started wearing her ring around her neck as a necklace, and she admitted that he was right: having her hands free to get dirty and to wash, clean, and handle anything in general was more practical—not to mention more sanitary. The chain seemed to be sufficiently sturdy to not be broken easily by an accidental tug, yet elegant enough to be worn with the most formal outfits she owned. And when she lay in bed at night and held the ring on its chain in between her fingers, gazing transfixed into its calm, blue depths, she thought about the story it echoed to her: her comrade's death casting it adrift, to be guided into her own hands with a desperate hope that she and Levi could find the happiness together that so many others were cruelly denied.

As the days passed, Petra spent the days as productively as she could: going for a run every morning, helping her parents at the shop by ringing up purchases, poring thoroughly over her pregnancy book, keeping the house tidy and the flowers well cared for, and helping prepare meals. She was safe at home with her parents while the casualties piled up higher and higher, and while those who lived were still dying inside. Death had even made Eld's former girlfriend distant—still not a word from Astrid, and Petra wasn't counting on it, ever again. And in the mornings when she first woke, lying in her bed alone again, she wished that she could see Levi again—to give him a kiss, or even just a hug, and help him remember how to stay alive—and in the process, to help herself as well.

Sometimes I just feel so useless, stuck at home here….

She rested a hand on her growing belly, feeling her blood pulsate through her hand.

No, that's not true; this one needs me the most right now. Levi is strong; he will survive. He promised he would come back…. So he will. Because he's the kind of person who always keeps his promises—to anyone and everyone, but especially to me.

And even though her mind was elsewhere, she willed herself to stand up, to go out the door and down the stairs, and to keep her hands and body busy doing useful things. It was what any soldier would do, and she was still a Scout, down to her very core.

But even so, Petra wondered how much more of surrendering him to the world she would have to do in the months and years ahead. As the weeks passed without him, her baby bump grew slowly and steadily underneath her sweaters and dresses, and every night she would rub the anti-stretch-mark cream from Levi on her belly. If not for the loose fabric bunching up around her waist, she would clearly be showing now, even to the most casual passersby. She would find herself growing hungry more frequently throughout the day as she tended to the storefront and rang up purchases. And her perceptive mother would often hand her a piece of fruit from the stand when she would start to nod off in hungry listlessness.

"Put it on my tab," Petra joked to her mother before sinking her teeth into a pear.

"Sweetie, if I kept a running tab of everything I ever gave to you for free, I could fill an encyclopedia," she sighed.

Petra giggled behind a cupped hand over her mouth to keep her mouthful of food from falling out. "Thank you, Mother…."

Three months into her pregnancy and two evacuations later, it was high time for a home visit from the physician—the same female physician who had first confirmed Petra's pregnancy at the first checkup. Since the Rals lived in Trost, it was relatively easy for a military physician to visit their civilian household. However, since their house was one of the oldest buildings in the city, squeezed in a few blocks from the busy downtown area, the doctor was not too pleased with their living situation.

"I suppose you grew up used to how it is in the Survey Corps if your house doesn't have running water, either," she sighed, propping her wrists on her hips as she emerged from her bathroom inspection. "You know, the Military Police have had sink faucets and showers for ages, but the funding was never there for the Scouts.…" And she shook her head sadly.

Petra shrugged and gave a wan smile. "What can you do, Doctor? As long as there's a well somewhere, we have everything we need. Same in the Cadets. 'Build some character', as Commander Shadis would say," she chuckled.

The physician set her bag down on the couch and pulled out two chairs from the dining table for each of them. "I can't say I'm pleased that you're planning to give birth in this house, but I'll do my very best to make sure it goes smoothly," she sighed.

Petra took a seat slowly, letting her mind linger on that eventuality. Finally giving birth still seemed like such a long way off…. And where would Levi be at that time? Away on a mission again? Or would he be able to be by her side, as he was always promising?

"How did it go Underground?" the physician continued, crossing her arms in concern. "Everyone went a little hungry for about a week there…."

Petra clasped her hands in her lap, staring at them. "I was a bit hungry for the first few days. But then my husband—Captain Levi—joined me there, and every day he brought me more food to supplement the rations."

"Well, thank goodness for that. If you had been much further along in your pregnancy, your caloric requirements would have been even greater."

And her eyes narrowed even more gravely.

"Do whatever you can to avoid having to go through any more periods of starvation. Your baby is growing rapidly in the second trimester, and you need to start eating quite a bit more than you normally would for just yourself."

Petra nodded solemnly. "I understand, Doctor."

The physican nodded curtly.

"It's admirable how your family can sustain itself on what you grow in this tiny town house and your little garden in the back," she admitted with another nod. "And the Captain is assisting financially. But you've seen that there are times when money isn't enough to get you what you need. So, if your family ever runs low on food, just remember that the Reeves Company has a food bank giveaway every weekend and a soup kitchen every weeknight."

Petra heaved a reluctant sigh at another mention of the Reeves Company. But she did begrudgingly admit to herself that Boss Reeves seemed to have turned over a new leaf since the Trost evacuation….

The physician tilted her head to recall other resources to mention. "Hmm, and the King's Festival is coming up fast, so be sure to take advantage of the free food then, too."

"Gee, that's right. Time really flies."

The physician sighed again and reached for her bag, pulling out her stethoscope.

"Captain Levi…. He's quite a formidable man, from the times I've met him. Certainly not much for small talk."

Petra smiled to herself. "Everyone seems to think that about him, but he's actually… very kind. He just speaks more with actions than with words."

The doctor gave another nod.

"I'd agree," she said with a knowing smile. "He did want you to have a female physician so you would feel more comfortable, after all." And she paused. "Or maybe it was so he'd feel more comfortable," she laughed.

"Heh," Petra chuckled. "I had a feeling he had some involvement in that." She smiled gratefully. "Thank you for everything, Doctor…."

"You're welcome, sweetie." She positioned her stethoscope in her ears and paused for Petra to lift her shirt to show her belly. "Well, I'm sure his influence and salary will be of help in procuring enough food, even with the ongoing shortages. I won't worry too much about you."

After the physician left, Petra was left home alone again, and she did not want to be. So, before she knew it, she found herself back downtown, drawn in through the front door of the bookstore in search of something new to occupy her mind.

A woman's voice from the storage area behind the back wall was muffled by books all around them: "Etta, stop reading in the middle of working! The bell rang just now. Go check on the customers."

"Sorry," a girl's voice sheepishly answered. In another moment, a teenage girl with long, reddish brown hair in a loose ponytail emerged from the back. She put on a cheerful smile when she noticed Petra standing idly at the bookshelves.

"Welcome! Is there something you're looking for, miss?" The girl paused to reexamine Petra's face, and a light of recognition shone in her eyes. "You're the one who bought those—" she glanced quickly around the store to confirm that they were alone before continuing, "pregnancy books, right?"

Petra gave her a warm smile back. "That's right. I'm touched that you remembered."

The girl propped her fists on her hips. "Well, it's not every day we see a strawberry blonde!" But then she slouched a little, frowning to herself. "I kinda wish I had cool hair like you, to be honest…."

Petra turned her head a little and gave her a smile to hopefully encourage her. "Since when does your hair color decide how cool you get to be?"

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know…. Some jerk at school started calling me a 'dirty redhead', and people won't stop saying it now…." And she crossed her arms in rising frustration. "Maybe I should've gotten out of here a year ago, like I had wanted to…."

"Gee, where do people come up with these kinds of insults? 'Dirty redhead', as in 'dirty blonde'?"

"Yeah…." And the girl doubled down on an even more petulant frown. "He tried to grab my butt after lectures one day, but I slapped him. And then he started badmouthing me to everyone he knew."

"Oh no," Petra sighed. "I'm really sorry…."

"Whatever," the girl blurted out. "I'm enlisting anyway."

Petra frowned. "Hm. The Cadets are having another enlistment round? I heard they just moved everyone up to the next year…."

"Yeah. It's been kind of an 'open enrollment' situation since we got out from Underground, you know. They gotta get as many soldiers out there as fast as possible to make up for all the casualties…. Well, you still have to be able to hack it to stay, I figure. But who's to say I can't?"

And Petra smiled, more confidently now. "That's right. That's what I told myself, too, when I was your age…."

"Huh?" The girl's eyes grew wider. "You're—are you a soldier, too?"

Petra gave a tiny nod. "That's right. My husband and I are Scouts. Or, well…" she rested her hands on her baby bump and gave a bittersweet sigh. "I'm off duty 'till I have the baby, anyway."

But despite Petra's muted response, the girl's eyes still twinkled with excitement. "That's amazing! Don't worry, miss. You'll have that baby and be a great mother, and you'll be a Scout, too," she declared with conviction. But in another moment, she became subdued again. "The truth is, though… I already thought about enlisting a year ago. But my parents were against it, so… I didn't."

Petra nodded knowingly. "Why'd you change your mind?"

At this, the girl heaved another sigh, leaned her hands against the counter, and rested her chin on the palm of her hand. "I just kept on thinking about it even more all year. Even more so with all this crazy stuff happening with the gates being breached. And having to evacuate all the time…."

She began to grow more animated as she continued.

"I like helping out with the bookstore. A part of me is okay with living a humble, ordinary life like everyone else. But... a part of me isn't. I want to do more. Being a soldier just seems like the thing I should be doing with myself. It's something I just want to do. Because it's the right thing to do."

"You remind me so much of myself," Petra sighed. "My parents also had a hard time letting me go join the Cadets. But—you're absolutely right. You have to do what feels right for you—whether that means running towards danger, or away from it."

And then she paused, pursing her lips as the implications of her advice started to trouble her.

"But… know that if you choose not to live an ordinary life, that also means you don't get to live an ordinary life. You and everyone around you could die at any moment. So, you can't plan for any kind of future—for yourself, or with anyone else close to you…."

The girl heaved a sigh, and the light in her eyes subdued. "Oh well…. I tried that for a year, though. And my parents were happy, but I wasn't happy. So… it wasn't the right path for me." She stood up straight again and propped her elbows back up on the countertop, returning to her bright, storekeeper attitude. "Did you finish the book already? Do you know all about 'pregnancy, childbirth, and infancy' now?"

At this, Petra directed her gaze back to the bookshelves, scanning through the Educational Books section. "Not yet; I'm rereading it, actually. But my husband wanted me to get out and live a little, so I figured I'd stop by."

Her finger dragged along the book spines until she stopped at something that caught her eye:

"Gemstones of the Walls!" exclaimed the girl when she realized which book it was. "Oh my God, you have to read it!"

"Huh?" Petra mumbled, turning to look back at her. "Why so excited all of a sudden?"

The girl pointed at Petra's ring dangling from her neck. "That engagement ring you're wearing! It's an Iceburst Stone, right?"

Petra grinned sheepishly. "You sure know your gemstones."

"You should find out where it's from! The book talks about where they mine them."

Petra tipped her head back as if to seriously contemplate whether to buy it, then she righted herself. "Well, then. I guess that settles it." And she pulled out a copy of the book to buy something at last.

As the girl rang up her purchase, Petra asked, "What's your name, by the way?"

She cleared her throat proudly. "Henrietta. Etta for short. What's your name, ma'am?"

"Petra. Petra Ral. You can ask Commander Shadis about me when you get to the Cadets." She grinned. "And, umm, 'miss' is fine. I know I'm married, but 'ma'am' makes me feel kinda old…"

"That's so cool! I definitely will!"

Henrietta paused for a moment to count Petra's cash.

"May I ask… who's your husband, then? You said he's a Scout, too?"

"Yes. Captain Levi from the Survey Corps, Special Operations Squad."

Henrietta gasped, clearly starstruck by the name. "Captain Levi…?" And she gave an envious look. "Sounds like you did get to have it all, huh. A military career, and a military husband…."

Petra laughed sheepishly. "Well, it has its ups and downs, being me," she insisted. She glanced down pensively at her ring, hanging faithfully next to her heart. "But in the end, as far as my own decisions go… I wouldn't change a thing."

Notes:

Thank you all for reading! (I can't believe I'm about to reach 200,000 words and I'm nowhere near the end.) I've decided to start sneaking in little comments about my writing decisions, themes, etc. at the ends of chapters because I'm too impatient to wait the 20+ chapters more until this fic is over to put a giant info dump at the end. So, here are my notes:

I wanted to convey which characters have similar personalities to Petra by having them share certain expressions or mannerisms with her. For example, Petra's mother likes to say "Gee", as does Henrietta. My headcanon is that Petra gets her impetuous personality from her mother (given that Petra always seemed more headstrong/confident than her father did when he talked to Levi), so I figured that it would also make sense that Petra had picked up certain speech patterns from her interactions with someone else close to her while she was growing up. And who better to be that kind of strong-willed female role model to her than her own mother?

Chapter 19: Endings

Summary:

Petra continues to work on getting more involved in her local community in Trost, but she has an uphill battle to be accepted as one of them. A late-night visit from Levi is a welcome surprise, but he is troubled by the escalating situation within the Walls.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for staying with me through this! The alternate reality story is taking a significant amount of time, but I figure that as long as it's entertaining, then it's all good. I promise you that everything that happens in one timeline makes the other timeline more meaningful.

Another thing is that I've reached 200,000 words with the publication of this chapter, which honestly blows my mind. I spent countless hours writing this already, and I've had a lot of fun. Thanks again for humoring me on the journey, and I'll keep working hard until the end (whenever that will be).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Theme of RENA Music Box" – Motoi Sakuraba (Star Ocean: The Second Story OST)

For weeks after Petra's latest visit to the bookstore, her conversation with young Henrietta lingered in the back of her mind. In particular, the words "military husband" came up to the surface when she would take notice of the ring on the chain around her neck, and the thought of being a "military wife" dogged her when she looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror or in the surface of the water in the kitchen cistern.

So, when a customer handed her a flyer for a social support group just for military families before drifting out the door with her bagful of pears, she figured that she had nothing to lose by giving it a try. But when she slipped over to show the flyer to her mother, Mrs. Ral only heaved a sigh.

"Yes, that group's been out there for some time," she explained hesitantly. "They had a recruitment booth at a festival once and your father and I stopped by, but… well, when I mentioned that my daughter was in the military, they seemed… surprised."

Her mother set down the sweet potato from her hand and hardened her gaze, as Petra had only rarely seen her do.

"And not in a good way," Mrs. Ral concluded. "Go if you want to see what all the fuss is about, but just be prepared for a room full of other women calling you 'unladylike'…."

Nevertheless, that Friday evening she dressed up in a loose-hanging, dark green dress cinched right under her bust to accommodate her baby bump. And she made sure to wear her ring on her finger for the occasion. At the door to the community association building, the door greeter was a middle-aged woman wearing a cream-colored shawl over her dress, and she chatted freely with everyone who had filed in as Petra approached. Petra held up the flyer with her Iceburst Stone gleaming on her ring finger and gave an uneasy smile. The woman greeted Petra at the door with an eager handshake.

"Ahh, I don't believe we've met! I'm Adelaide, the group organizer. My husband's a section leader in the Garrison. What's your name, dear?"

"Petra. Petra Ral."

Adelaide gazed expectantly at her. "And do you have a family member in the military?"

Petra nodded. "Yes. My husband and I are both in the Survey Corps."

After blinking and tipping her head for the briefest moment, the woman beamed at her. "Welcome, Mrs. Ral. May I ask who referred you?"

"Oh." Petra frowned and folded up the flyer in her hands. "Just one of the customers at my family's shop. She's not from a military family, but I guess she knows someone else who is."

"Well, no problem!" Adelaide extended a hand to guide Petra in.

Petra took a moment to compose herself, then ventured bravely inside the wooden doors. She took a seat in one of the chairs nearest the door; the chairs were arranged in three concentric circles in the middle of the room, with small groups of attendees clumped in conversation at intermittent spacings. A group of three younger women noticed Petra entering and swarmed her immediately.

"Hello, are you new?" a woman with sleek, raven hair asked her. "What's your name?"

"My name's Petra. What about you all?"

"Ooh, your name's cool! My name's Lenore," the raven-haired woman said, "and these are Griselda"—she gestured to a freckled woman with a blonde ponytail, "and Romy." She pointed to the brunette woman with long, braided hair down to her mid-back.

"You look pregnant," Griselda commented breezily. "You are pregnant, right?"

Petra smiled politely. "Yes. I'm four months along."

Griselda sighed enviously and propped her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't mind being in your shoes myself, but my husband is honestly never home. We haven't even been able to talk about having a baby, let alone get around to making one."

"Ew," Romy whined with a pout. "You literally just met this girl and you're already spewing out how horny you are?"

Lenore, seemingly the calmest and most mature of the trio, draped one arm over each of her friends' shoulders. "Ladies, we should be ladies around the mama hens at these meetings! Save it for my house later," she winked at them, and they both giggled and covered their mouths in agreement.

Petra noticed over their shoulders that there was a sizeable group across the circle from them, seemingly gathered around some aging couples in the center who were comforting each other by rubbing each other's shoulders and nodding empathetically while the other talked. People's heads were in the way, but Petra thought that she could just make out a woman with a nest of messy, curly blonde hair with her face in a handkerchief….

Lenore took note of Petra's eyes on the group, and she admitted, "We'll miss her…."

"What do you mean? She's leaving?"

Giselle nodded somberly. "Her son was in the Survey Corps for years, but he died a few months ago. She said that today's her last day with the group."

Lenore explained further, "Usually when people's loved one dies, they transfer over from our Military Families Group on Friday nights to the Military Bereavement Group on Saturday nights. Her husband already moved over, but she's been hanging on…."

Romy shrugged. "Well, we're technically allowed to be in both, but... nobody's chosen to do that yet. Understandably."

"That's not quite true," Giselle pointed out. "Didn't Astrid go to both groups for one weekend and then quit both right after?"

"Oh yeah." Lenore's shoulders slumped a little, and she heaved a sigh and sat down two seats away from Petra. "I miss her already, too…."

"I see," Petra murmured, vaguely noting her body temperature rising. "You guys knew her, too."

"Huh?" All three women straightened up a little.

"I knew Astrid, and I knew her boyfriend even better. I served in the same squad with him for four years."

The ease at which the admission left her lips surprised her, but she gave a resolute nod, owning her words. And Petra rose from her seat to extricate herself from them, to their unified protest.

"Excuse me for a few minutes," she told them. In a moment, she added, "Please save my seat for me."

In that moment, Petra understood what she had come there to do. She made her way straight for the crowd on the other end of the room and pried her way through the people in the way, and in the center sat Mrs. Jinn with her distinctive, curly blonde hair, soberly pocketing her wet handkerchief with a final sniff. Petra also recognized the Berners—Moblit's mother and father—sitting with her, looking helpless but determined to be there for her anyway. Mrs. Jinn and the Berners all snapped their heads up to see Petra approach, and they stood up to greet their unexpected visitor.

"Petra. Sweetie," Mrs. Jinn sighed, embracing Petra in a gentle hug. "It's good to see you. I guess you being here is another sign for me that it's time to move on."

Petra nodded and patted her on the shoulder before releasing herself from the hug. "I'm so sorry again, Mrs. Jinn."

"It's not your fault, dear," she assured her. And she took Petra's left hand in hers to admire the ring upon her finger. "Goodness, it even says 'Dedicate your heart' on it. He chose well, didn't he?" she sighed, finding her pride for her son again. "I think, all things considered, he'd be honored that it went to you, in the end…."

Petra smiled sadly at her. "May I ask... how has Astrid been? Have you… heard from her?"

Mrs. Jinn and the Berners all shook their heads.

"She's devastated, of course. But she's working on moving on. She only went to one more of these meetings after we got the news, then the bereavement group the day after, and then no more."

"That sounds like her," Petra agreed. "She wouldn't take the ring, and she stopped going to these meetings. I guess that's 'moving on'…."

Mrs. Berner guided Mrs. Jinn to sit back down, and Mr. Berner spoke up now:

"I believe you know my son, Moblit, Miss Petra. I know he's a Scout himself, and even though he's still alive, I live every day knowing that his time will probably come before mine." He gave a weary shrug. "So, I understand why Miss Astrid would be done with military men. There's too much heartbreak in 'em."

And he nodded to himself as he sank his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Hell, he might just drink himself to death before the Titans get him. Talk about a way to go," he scoffed, seeming to find some levity again.

Petra grinned sheepishly, feeling relieved at being able to talk about something more lighthearted for a change. "Gee, well, I guess his section leader is a handful…."

Petra felt her body temperature start to cool again as the Berners helped her feel more at ease with continued chatter. And in a couple more minutes, Adelaide came in to close the front doors behind her and call everyone to sit. Petra's newfound acquaintances were still sitting across the room where she had left them, eyeing her curiously as she took a seat between Romy to her left and Griselda and Lenore to her right.

Given that all the women there knew what it was like to carry on with their daily lives without their boyfriends and husbands, Petra had harbored a tiny hope that she would find a community of kindred spirits among them. But due to their unusual circumstances, the Rals-plus-Levi family was never going to be considered normal. Petra soon realized from the introductions around the room that not only was the group almost entirely made up of women, but she was the only woman there who was also in the military themselves. And not only that, but when Griselda sitting directly to her right put her on the spot, another thing became apparent:

"You said your name's Petra Ral, right? So your husband's name is Levi… Ral?"

Lenore, sitting to the right of Griselda, crossed her arms and tilted her head back to muse over that. "Come to think of it, I've never heard Captain Levi's last name before, either."

"Um," Petra gulped nervously. "It's just 'Levi', actually. 'Captain Levi'. No last name."

The younger women in the circle furrowed their eyebrows and frowned disapprovingly, while the older women pursed their lips uncomfortably.

"Who doesn't have a last name?" another one of the younger women several seats over asked her middle-aged neighbor.

"Someone who doesn't know who his father is," the older woman explained curtly. And she lowered her voice to be barely audible: "Like if his mother was a prostitute. Or if his father was abusive and she ran away and left him."

Petra quickly spoke again to try to save whatever shred of dignity she could salvage on Levi's behalf: "His mother never talked to him about his father," she explained. I guess I can't claim to know whether she even knew his father's name. It's true that she was a prostitute…. The less I can get away with saying, the better.

Adelaide, sitting on other side of Romy, gave Petra a reassuring smile. "It's all right, sweetie. Everyone has a story. And I'd imagine someone as storied as Captain Levi would very well have a 'checkered past', you could say."

The other women nodded soberly, seeming to rein themselves back in towards being supportive.

"But still," the young woman insisted, "you were forced to keep your maiden name when you got married. And your baby's going to have to take your last name, 'cause your husband doesn't have one of his own?"

At this, Petra could not stop herself from glaring at the woman. "Look. I know that our family doesn't fit in. But I couldn't care less about keeping up appearances." She was able to soften at the thought of him, however, and she felt her frustration dissipate with her furtive smile. "My husband is a good and honorable man. And he is who he is, no matter what he's called."

Adelaide nodded with finality. "Well said, dear." She surveyed the room with a renewed authority. "And I daresay any of us could say the same thing about our own husbands and family members: good… honorable… courageous."

A murmur of universal agreement and nodding of heads rippled through the group. Petra sighed quietly in relief, although the sight of Mrs. Jinn staring at her hands clasped in her lap brought a new unease to the pit of her stomach. In the end, it did not do much good to mix the families of the living and the dead for too long: the families of the dead would look around and see the bygone past, and the families of the living would look at them and see the future. And it was anyone's guess how long she would get to be one of the lucky ones.

One night not long after, Levi let himself into the Rals' house with the help of his key, tiptoed quietly up the stairs (hugging the wall as closely as possible to avoid causing the wooden steps to creak underfoot), and slipped into Petra's bedroom. After lighting a candlestick and setting it on her desk, he deposited onto her desk a white bindle cloth with some pajamas and underwear, as well as hanging in her closet a suit jacket, pants, and dress shirt on some free hangers she had shoved off to one side of her own clothes. The sleeve of his suit jacket brushed against the two gas canisters standing upright in the closet corner, reminding him of the last time he had seen them—and that the canisters were almost empty anyway if she had traded hers with Mikasa's that day….

However, Petra began to stir under the bedsheets as the dim candlelight hit her face. Levi crossed his arms to brace himself for her imminent awakening, and surely enough, she sat up with a start, then gasped when she saw him sitting at her desk chair in a black suit jacket and slacks and a gray button-down shirt, watching her.

"Levi!"

He held up an index finger to his mouth to shush her.

"I didn't mean to wake you." And he sighed in a quiet huff as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms again. "I was going to wait till morning to greet you, after you woke up…."

She sat up under the sheets, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Why would you do that, sneaking into my room like a stalker? I want to know as soon as you come home!"

He gazed at her, the concern showing plainly on his face. "You need your sleep. I can wait."

She shut her eyes and sank back down onto her pillow. "But I can't."

He stood up, brought the candle over to her bedside table, and took a seat on the edge of her bed next to her; she scooted over to make room for him and remained lying on her left side, facing him.

Levi took in the sight of the room more closely, and he gave a nod of approval. "I like the new bed. The mattress looks sturdy."

She closed her eyes again, this time with a smile playing on her lips. "I'd say I bought it with 75% your money, 25% my money," she mused. "But with a bed this big, the room is more bed than floor."

He gave a tiny smirk and took her hand in his; her fingers curled gently around his as she took an audible inhale, then let it out like a prolonged sigh. It seemed that the more time passed, the easier it came to him to reach out to her—to hold her hand, to hug around her shoulders, or even to hold her body close in the bed, like the last time he had been home….

As if somehow reading his mind, she gave his hand a squeeze and opened her eyes again to peer up at him through narrowed eyes.

"Is this what they'd call… a 'booty call'?"

"What?" He squinted humorlessly back at her. "What does that even mean?"

She cleared her throat pointedly. "You know, when someone shows up at their lover's doorstep late at night, bearing gifts in exchange for booty…."

"What? No. I just happened to be in town for something else. And I wanted to see you, too… so I figured I would."

She gave a little toss of her head as she eyed him over the hump of her pillow. "When are you going to feel like this is your house, too?"

"What do you mean? I did let myself in just now."

"And you sat at my desk, staring at me until I woke up. Instead of just sitting next to me like a normal person."

He gave a silent chuckle, causing his abdominal muscles to tense against the back of her hand resting on his lap.

"Sit at the edge of the bed when you come in," she instructed him. "Or just get in the bed. This is your bed, too… your house, too…."

"Understood, Miss Petra," he smirked. He got up briefly to drape his suit jacket over the back of her chair and change into a pair of pajamas that he brought before slipping around the foot of the bed to get under the covers next to her.

After a couple of restless moments of lying in bed, full to bursting with things to say, they turned to gaze sleeplessly at each other. And they sat up next to each other with their pillows propped behind their backs, with Petra to the left and Levi to the right.

Levi said, "I brushed my teeth in the bathroom before I came in here, in case you wanted to know."

"Oh, good. I did want to know." And she leaned in to kiss him, now that she knew. "Welcome home."

She looked at him expectantly, batting her eyelashes at him. The sight of her in the candlelight was as tempting as ever, but he kept his gaze steady and focused on her eyes, and not the allure of the rest of her face.

"So? What brings you here so late at night? If you're not here to ask for booty?" she teased him.

His gaze drifted to the midnight blue sky outside her window.

"I had to go to the barracks to see Erwin, and I figured I'd spend the night here so I could see you." He heaved a sigh. "And it's not the same anymore, going to my room there. Now that my next-door-neighbor's dead…."

He turned to look in her eyes, and she saw the turmoil brewing in him.

"Do you mind if we don't talk about the details?"

"Oh," she murmured. "Okay. That's okay, too." And she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He turned his head to stare at the bedspread covering her legs. "It's just—a lot. A lot on my mind."

She continued to hold his hand, moving her thumb against the back of his hand.

He gazed at her for one more moment, then turned to stare off into the darkened window again. She got out of bed, pulled a thick hardcover book from her desk, and took it back to bed with her. The cover was a deep, leathery brown, featuring a girl with a pleated dress, holding out an apple in both hands.

"Look. This is my old book of fairy tales. Wanna see?"

She opened the book across both of their laps and turned to the very first page.

"My mother used to read these to me when I was little. And then when I grew older, I would read them to myself." She smiled furtively at him. "And now here I am, reading them to you."

His eyes narrowed slightly, eyeing the cream-colored pages with a healthy dose of suspicion. "If these fairy tales are more for kids than grown-ups, then maybe you'd better wait till after that baby comes out."

"Aww, come on! We'd might as well start now. It can hear us, you know." She cupped a hand to her belly to bolster her assertion.

He sighed and glanced away for a moment to steel himself for whatever overly saccharine story awaited him. "Okay then. Let's hear it."

She smiled broadly and began to read aloud from the beginning:

Christa and the Titan, and other Faerie Tales

Written and illustrated by Angelina Klein

"Once upon a time, in a strange yet familiar land, there lived a young girl named Christa who loved apples. She lived on a farm in a tiny house, working hard through every season to grow and harvest apples. That was her lot in life, but she did not complain. After all, the apples were delicious. Every apple held life within itself, pulsing with vitality in her hands, and its seeds begat more life when they fell upon the earth and grew into trees, which bore apples of their own. This was the cycle of life through generations, which she nurtured with her guiding hand.

Yet when she gazed into her reflection in the buckets of water she drew from the well, she tried to see past her own life and saw only the bottom of a bucket. This was her lot in life—to have no past or future, no story to tell, and no one to tell them to. There was only the farm, the apples, the seasons, and the days and nights.

One night, in the dead of night, she had an unexpected visitor at her front door: a hideously hunchbacked creature with gnarled fingers and toes, a set of pointy teeth like daggers, and large, gleaming yellow eyes that shone in the lamplight. The creature wore a burlap cloak to conceal its deformities, but it could not hide what was plain to see. It gazed down at her now, curious.

'Who are you?' Christa asked. 'And what brings you to my door?'

It pointed to the lamp that hung poised from her hand.

'I do not know what I am. I only know that I am. I saw the light from your window, and I wanted to see…. I only travel at night, and I have never seen the sun.'

'You poor thing,' she sighed. 'Here… you can hold it for a while." And she passed the lamp to the creature, who held it aloft with wonderment.

'Is this like… the sun?' the creature asked.

Christa nodded. 'The sun is a giant ball of flames in the sky. Like the flame in this lamp, only bigger.' But she frowned and asked, 'Why don't you ever travel during the day?'

'I'm not allowed,' it explained, 'on account of my appearance.'

She frowned, for she knew the cruelty of the world, and she knew that anyone who saw the creature would call it ugly. Nevertheless, the girl brightened and produced a shiny, ripe red apple from the pocket of her dress.

'It's not much,' she admitted, her voice faltering, 'but it's all I can give.'

The creature took a tentative sniff at the offering and lobbed the whole apple into its gaping maw. Indeed, the girl was right: the creature felt a little better with the taste of a juicy, crunchy apple upon its tongue.

Christa smiled eagerly as the creature savoured the taste, smacking its lips. And she explained:

'Under the sun, these apples are the reddest things around. But at night, they're the same colours as everything else: black, gray, and blue. And whether day or night, they taste delicious.'

'I wish to see the beauty of the world under the sun,' the creature said. 'But I never thought I would find it in an apple.'

Levi looked up from the words on the page to scrutinize Petra's face. "Is this why your family loves apples so much? 'Cause of a bedtime story about apples?"

"Oh, come on, it's not just about apples! We still have to read some more about the creature in the cloak!" Petra insisted. And she turned her eyes back to the page and continued reading:

'I have never left this humble farm,' Christa confessed. 'I work in the orchards and tend to the fields by day, and I sleep by night.'

'And I have never stayed put for more than a day,' the creature responded. 'I wander all night and sleep all day.'

Levi slouched into his pillow for a moment of silent brooding, then he impulsively reached out with his hand to flip the pages to the end of the book.

"Hey!" Petra admonished him, nearly clapping the book covers shut around his hand. He had reflexively pulled his hand away, like a wild animal jerking its paw out of a steel trap in the nick of time.

"You can't just skip to the end!" she huffed. "That's cheating."

He grunted in frustration and grumpily crossed his arms. "I don't have all night to read about little girls handing out apples. I want to know how it ends already."

"Why? Stories are meant to be told from beginning to end, not jumping around to different parts."

"But I want to know ahead of time who's going to die or whatever, so I don't have to get too invested. The 'creature' is obviously a Titan—I mean, the word 'Titan' is in the title…."

"So? It's not exactly the same! Titans don't usually move around at night."

"He's a Titan and he's gonna crunch down on her like that apple. She was nice to him, and he's gonna eat her alive and call her 'delicious,' too."

He crossed his arms yet again, seemingly satisfied with his conclusion.

"Just tell me I'm right so we can get on with our lives."

"What? Well, I think that's pretty mean to write off all the characters if they die. They all matter—their stories matter. Whether or not they survive all the way till the end. Shouldn't their lives mean more than when and how they die?"

She frowned in displeasure, tracing her fingertips along the embossed design of Christa's profile on the front cover.

"Would you say that kind of thing about all our comrades who died?"

He took a deep breath and heaved an audible exhale. "Real life is hard enough, not knowing how things will end. I thought stories were supposed to make people feel better. At least it can let me down easier if I already know what's coming."

She grew more serious as she considered his words for a few long moments, still staring at the cover of the book in her lap while he regarded her warily. And he began to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have been so gruff about stating his opinion….

"If you could find out what was going to happen in the future, to you or the people you care about… would you?" she asked quietly.

"Huh…." He tilted his head back against the wall to think. "Hard to say. Depends on why I'd want to see the future."

She gripped the book in both her hands, gazing down at it again. "Hmm, well… if we knew that one of us was going to die an untimely death, would we still have chosen to be together? Or would we have called it quits before we even started?"

He grew even more still and shut his eyes. "Is that a question for me? Or for you?"

She frowned. "I'd rather not know. And I'd cherish whatever and whoever I have with me right now, so I wouldn't have any regrets."

And she tipped her head downward slightly, as if pointing to him.

"What about you?"

A tiny sigh escaped his lips. "If knowing would somehow help me change the past—and keep something bad from happening to you—then I'd say I'd want to know. But if knowing doesn't change a thing—and I'd have to live through it again and again, watching you die every time—then I'd rather not know, either."

And he closed his eyes again, in pain but also at peace with his decision.

"I'd rather we only have to suffer once."

She sighed as well and slumped backward into her pillow, deeply contemplating what to say next. But in a few moments, her countenance shifted, and she spoke in a more lighthearted tone of voice now.

"Maybe in a year or so, we'll be reading bedtime stories again—to this baby in here, not just to each other."

"See? That's what I was saying. I should go find some more books like this. But better."

She waved a hand and scoffed.

"I'll be the judge of what a 'good' story is. I have a lot more time to drop by the bookstore. Or the library."

"Well… these kinds of books must be pretty popular." And he paused. "No wonder I don't like them."

She sighed again, more heavily now, but she said with a hint of humor, "You are pretty far from a normal person."

"I'm guessing Historia read it, too," he continued, either unamused or unaware. "'Cause she used to go by 'Christa'…."

"Oh, that's right," she murmured. "That really short, blonde girl, right?"

"Right."

They stared at each other, still working to find common ground out of something they did not seem to have in common.

"I almost never find people who are shorter than me," she chuckled. "For me to be calling someone 'short'? Now that's what 'short' really is!"

He smirked in fresh amusement as she leaned into him, letting her laughter run its course.

"I guess you were never really into fairy tales, huh?" she sighed.

He shrugged. "I never read much just for fun. Especially not fairy tales."

"You couldn't get your hands on any books? Or you just tried reading them and didn't like them?" she teased.

"Don't they always end a little too perfectly? Life is hard enough, just trying to stay alive."

"Gee, you can't wait to get to the ending, and then when you do, you're still not happy. If it's a happy ending, it's cliché, and if it's sad, it upsets you 'cause you got invested in characters who die on you?"

She shoved the book to rest on her bedside table with a huff of indignation.

"Anyway, you're missing out! It's good to have imagination…. I think it's worth it to hope for a happy ending. In a story, or even in real life, you know?"

"I guess," he muttered, more to appease her than out of true agreement. He gave pause for a few seconds, then said, "So… the author is named 'Angelina Klein.'"

"Mm-hmm. That's her pen name, anyway."

"You named your horse Angelika. It's almost the same, isn't it?"

She grinned sheepishly and tucked some stray strands of unruly hair behind her ear. "Well. It is my favorite book. And by the way: no, Christa doesn't die. And neither does the creature."

He rolled his eyes, thankful for the dimness of the light in which to hide his disinterest.

"I can't believe you don't like fairy tales," she huffed, still not over her failed attempt to interest him in something she enjoyed. "I should've read from Gemstones of the Walls instead..."

He shifted in his seat. "What's that? Another book?"

"Yeah, I bought this book about the different gemstones found inside the territory within the Walls. It also speculates about what the Walls themselves are made of. But maybe Hange already has more updated information on that..."

"Yeah, we should've read that instead. Maybe I'd actually learn something."

And she chuckled despite her lingering frustration as she got up to grab the book from her desk.

"You're such a square. Here, look." She shimmied her legs back under the bedsheets and pushed the book partly onto his lap. "There's a part that's particularly relevant to us."

She opened the book where she had placed a bookmark and read:

Glowing Stones

The most well-known glowing stones are the greenish-yellow ore that is found inside the Three Walls and the Underground City beneath Mitras. For those who travel through the Wall Gates, the sight of the faintly luminescent arbor overhead as they pass under the Wall is not soon forgotten. Although these stones are common within our walled territory, they are a reminder that something need not be rare to be beautiful or useful.

Additionally, soon after the Fall of Wall Maria in the Year 845, shards of a bluish, glowing ore called Iceburst Stone began circulating in the informal marketplaces of the southern cities, most notably Trost and Ehrmich Districts. It was rumored that shards of this precious stone had been illegally excavated from a nobleman's basement cavern, and the gems cut from them were highly prized for their vivid, hypnotic blue glow (unlike the faint, greenish glow of their cousins). These beautiful stones eventually made their way into the display cases of luxury jewelers, featured as limited-edition engagement rings or matching jewelry sets. The stones could potentially serve a more practical purpose as a perpetual light source to relieve the people of the ongoing need for candles, but there is an insufficient quantity to be affordable or available to the average civilian.

Interestingly, Iceburst Stone is the same material used to produce the pressurized gas that powers the Omnidirectional Mobility gear (ODM gear) used by all regiments of the military to help in the fight against the Titans or otherwise keep the peace within the Walls. The locations and access points of the Iceburst Stone mines—including that of the unfortunate nobleman—are unknown to the public. By the same token, the method of refinement of Iceburst Stone into gaseous fuel is tightly controlled by the Military Police, much like the Iron Bamboo in the Industrial City, used to make the single-edged snap blades that have proved so effective at slaying Titans. Suffice it to say that the military's ongoing need for fuel to free Humanity from the Titans supersedes the desire of the average civilian to be freed from the monopoly of the local candlemaker!

"You're right: this is much more up my alley," Levi concluded with a nod of approval.

"Good!" she exclaimed, visibly relieved at having satisfied him at last. "I enjoy it, too."

"Heh. So Eld wasn't above buying stolen goods after all. Not as straight-laced as I thought he was..."

"Hey, he might not have known the origin story of this thing." She stared at the glowing ring hanging from her neck. "But they're beautiful anyway. Hm?"

She stacked the book on the bedside table on top of her book of fairy tales and lay back down in the bed with her back to him. He pulled the covers around over both their shoulders and hugged her close; she gave a whispered sigh of contentment as the warmth of his body enveloped her, and his breath blew gently on her cheek.

"I'm glad you came home tonight," she said. "Whenever you're in town, you should stop by just like this…."

"Okay." He nodded, feeling her cheek brush against the tip of his nose. "I will."

As he lay next to her, listening to their quiet breathing, his mind inevitably started to wander over the things they had told each other and the things they had learned about each other. And he realized that as much as Petra knew about him, even compared to anyone else, there were still things he hadn't quite found the right occasions to tell her.

At last, he spoke again: "Petra."

"Hm?"

"Before we went Underground... did you know that my mother was a prostitute?"

She shifted her head slightly, leaning forward a little. The speculation of the women in the social group came to mind again.

"No. But when you talked about her 'whoring name', I guess it did make sense."

His hand made its way to her shoulder, and he rubbed her skin with his thumb. "How so?"

She sighed quietly and reached her hand over to rest on top of his.

"That night, when I wore that nightgown and we spent the night... you didn't give in to me until you knew for yourself why you were going to sleep with me. You didn't just go ahead and do it without thinking it through." She turned her head to gaze at him out of the corner of her eye. "You wanted it to mean something. Didn't you."

"Yeah."

She blinked and rolled over to lay on her other side to face him.

He looked her in the eyes and added, "I never planned on mindlessly sleeping around like my father did. Not that anyone was interested, anyway," he scoffed.

"You only need one person to be interested," she teased him. And she leaned in and kissed him, lightly brushing her lips against his as she pulled away afterward.

"Why am I such a lucky bastard that someone like you would be that person..."

She put on her most serious, tight-lipped smile. "You're always selling yourself short. You still don't quite believe how good of a catch you are?"

By this point, he was only half listening as he ran his lips slowly down her neck, following the trail made by her golden necklace.

"It wavers—here and there, but... I just hold myself—to a high standard." And he planted a kiss in the lowest part of her cleavage he could reach above the fabric of her nightgown, right next to the ring of Iceburst Stone.

"So do I," she murmured, threading her fingers through his hair. "My father told me that I 'deserve the best.' And you are."

He pulled one sleeve of her nightgown down to free one of her breasts completely, finding it loose-fitting enough to nearly disrobe her from the top down. And he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking on her, and she sighed in equal parts arousal and exasperation.

"You know, pretty soon… you're gonna get a mouthful of milk when you do that."

"I guess we'll find out when that is," he muttered wryly.

"Oh," she sighed, unable to help herself as he freely continued. But nevertheless, she said, "This is the last time, okay? That stuff's not for you."

"Fine."

And he brought his head back up to consume the side of her neck with a full, sucking kiss. His breath tickled her skin as he took in her scent, and she turned her head to offer her lips for his next kiss, which he took eagerly.

"Are you sure you don't want to 'do it'?" She touched the tip of her nose to his and batted her eyelashes coyly. "You always seem to feel better after we do."

He closed his eyes in tacit agreement and sighed through his nostrils, and before he could open his eyes again, her lips were upon his again, and he opened them to let her in.

"Seems like you're always the one seducing me," he teased her.

"Maybe almost always."

They kissed again, even more slowly this time.

"I like to think that you want it, too," she said, "but you're just not that good at asking for it."

He let loose a sigh of longing before losing himself in another kiss.

She whispered in his ear, "And once I get you going, you never say no..."

Now that she had said it, he pulled away briefly, and a look of concern overtook him.

"Maybe we shouldn't go too far with this. You were just resting—you should rest…."

"Nonsense. It's not every day you come home, you know."

He grew more still in silent admission of guilt while he looked sadly upon her. But she continued:

"I checked with the doctor, and she said we can have as much sex as we want. Just don't squish my belly."

"You what? You specifically asked her that?"

And she started to chuckle and pulled her hand up to cover her mouth. "Well, yeah! Why not?" She reached out with her fingers to caress around his earlobe and whisper in his ear. "I said, 'My husband has a stressful job—these days especially—and he doesn't get to come home that often. So, when he does… we want to make the most of it.'"

And she planted a soft kiss on his ear in conclusion, which drove him to pin her down by her wrist and kiss her more forcefully on the lips. He was driven crazy by her teasing, growing hard as a rock inside his clothing, and his willpower to abstain was spent.

"Then that settles it: we can fuck each other's brains out—and help me forget all my troubles…."

She moaned in approval through another passionate kiss. And he closed his eyes and sighed in frustration with himself despite his raging desires.

"I swear this wasn't a booty call. I was planning on letting you sleep…."

She nodded. "I will. But—after this."

And she pulled him in close by the shoulder for another, gentler kiss. He leaned into her and kissed her back more deeply, running his hand down her shoulder, and he ran his lips over the bare skin where he had pulled her shoulder strap aside, inhaling the scent of her skin, feeling it overtake him once again. Her hands found their way down to the hem of his pajama shirt and pulled it up over his head and off his body. He lay on top of her now, and she propped her hands on his chest, whispering a moan in his ear as he pulled up on the hem of her nightgown and cast it off over her head in return.

She undid the drawstring of his waistband and thrusted her hips impetuously upward, letting the corners of her mouth twist mischievously as she beheld him tossing his head back and catching a low groan in his throat. But he glanced down at the swell of her belly underneath him, and he muttered:

"You're getting too big for this. I'm gonna press on you too much."

"Yeah," she sighed, coming to her senses. She rolled onto her right side under him, curling up a little and avoiding his gaze.

"Do you get turned off when you see my belly?"

He frowned. "But I knocked you up: that's my baby in there." And he reached down to turn her face towards him again. "How could that not turn me on?"

She gave a tiny smile. "Good answer."

And she pulled him back down for another kiss. He broke away and caressed the sinew of her neck with his lips, plying another moan from her half-open mouth.

"I can't get enough of you," he whispered. "And I never will."

He pushed her over to the side and he leaned her over on all fours. She sighed and moaned with approval as he kissed the nape, then the side of her neck, gently at first, then more and more indulgently as he breathed in her scent. He planted strong, full-bodied kisses from the base of her earlobe and down the muscles of her neck while he held her hair aside with one hand, then slid his hands down to pull her underwear off, and then finally to pull off his own pants and underwear the rest of the way off and shove them somewhere near the foot of the bed. And finally, he relinquished her neck to push her onto all fours and enter her from behind, thrusting languidly upward into her as he roamed his hands freely down her arms and over the landmarks on the front of her body: her breasts, even bigger than before; her belly, a little more firmly swollen and rounded than before; and between her thighs where her wetness sprang. Her body trembled with longing at his touch, as did his when she made her pleasure known with every whispered cry and moan into the air. His fingers made their way down to her clit, moving slowly as he thrusted ever more deeply, and she squeezed her eyes shut and let loose a tortured gasp and gripped the bedsheets with her fingers.

"You really do like it from behind," she panted between breathy moans.

He groaned in agreement. "When I go from behind—I can go deeper—" and he gave a particularly resolute thrust to demonstrate, making her gasp in renewed desperation.

"Do you not like it like this?" he asked.

"Oh," she moaned quietly as he thrusted again, more slowly and gently this time. "No, I do—it's just—a lot—"

He continued to slow his thrusting out of concern for her now. "Shit. I don't wanna hurt you," he breathed into the nape of her neck.

She shook her head urgently. "You're not hurting me; just keep going," she insisted.

He sighed and groaned in the same breath and continued thrusting, angling himself a little lower by shifting more of his weight forward onto her back so he rubbed up against her front wall a little more and pressed onto her cervix a little less. She moaned again, more indulgently now, which he took as encouragement to lay more fully on top of her back and reach down around her body on either side.

In the back of his mind, he thought to himself that it was almost unreal how easy it was to please her: whether he went hard or gentle, fast or slow, as deeply as possible or if he withheld a little bit of his full length, everything he did was received just as enthusiastically.

"Petra. Say something if it hurts..."

She nodded quickly. "It's good—keep going—"

He groaned and continued thrusting, as slowly and controlled as he could manage despite his mounting urge to speed up as he neared his peak. And she shrieked through tightly pursed lips as she felt him coming, sending his quivering heat deep inside her. He panted hotly into the back of her neck and resumed his rhythm with his residual hardness, luxuriating in the pulse of her muscles around him. She was close to her own orgasm, but not quite there yet, so he slid his fingers back down to rub her folds more and more urgently, mercilessly stimulating her in contrast to the slowness of his thrusting. And it was not long at all before she moaned in anguished pleasure into the pillow as she climaxed under his command, eliciting a fresh groan from him as she squeezed around his manhood still buried inside her.

When he finally pulled out and released her from his grip, she curled her legs closed and pulled her arms in tightly to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut in contentment. But a few moments later, as he was sitting up on his haunches to get off her, she sat back up as well and leaned down to take him into her mouth, licking and sucking him clean of his fluids. He clutched her head on either side, unapologetically rumpling her hair as he panted indulgently into the air with his head thrown back. She gave one last, teasing swipe of her tongue around his tip and lifted her head again, only to be shoved down to lay on her side again for another round of breathless kisses on the mouth.

They lay intertwined on the bed for a time, feeling each other's breathing slowing as they held each other close. But eventually, she pulled away and regarded him sternly, staring directly into his eyes.

"Levi… in the morning, please don't leave without waking me up."

And she set her lips into a resolute half-frown and tilted her head forward to beckon his reply. He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers, still gazing back at her.

"I don't want to wake you when you're still sleeping. You should get enough rest."

She shook her head. "I want to be able to say goodbye when you go. I don't want to fall asleep, knowing that you'll be gone when I wake up. So, don't leave me hanging like last time. Please?"

He heaved another sigh. "Okay. I'll wake you in the morning."

She nodded simply and closed her eyes again, seemingly satisfied now. "Good."

He leaned in for one last slow, heartfelt kiss on her lips before he let his head droop onto the pillow. Even the pillows were new, with plenty of springiness to support their heads.

"You got new pillows, too," he murmured, pulling her around to be the little spoon in front of him again. "No more straining our necks when we lay on our sides."

"Gee, how romantic," she chuckled. The candlelight still shone on her face, even through her closed eyelids. So she sat up, gave a great puff of breath to blow it out, and settled back down into the warm security of his arms and the blanket layers to hold in their body heat. She realized more consciously now that she had not particularly struggled with staying warm at night since moving back home, but having the extra presence of someone whose body ran a little warmer than hers made a world of difference.

"Good night," she said quietly to him in the dark. "See you tomorrow."

"I'll still be here," he mumbled. "Don't worry…. Good night."

When Levi awoke in the first light of morning, he was spooning Petra so tightly that simply letting her body go to get out of bed disturbed her sleep as well. She sighed and began to move her arms and legs, then she rolled over onto her back to see him still here next to her, frozen with a pained, apologetic look on his face.

"Shit. Sorry," he mumbled. "I was going to get up and get dressed first."

"It's okay," she said, smiling contentedly. "We can get up together."

She started to sit up, grabbing a corner of a bedsheet to cover her breasts, but the motion of doing so exposed a grouping of reddish-purple burst capillaries on her neck.

"Shit," he muttered aloud again.

"Huh?"

He leaned in, taking her chin in one hand, and he lifted and turned her chin to examine the damage.

"I gave you hickeys," he admitted with a sigh. "I'll find you some ointment for bruises when I go…."

"What?" She lunged for the top drawer of her bedside table and felt around for her hand mirror, and surely enough, she saw blotchy, deep reddish-purple bruises all the way down the sides of her neck. She blushed to herself and got out of bed at once, searching for her underwear mixed in with the bedsheets.

"I'm sorry," he said, glancing over at her in the middle of fixing his own underwear. "I should've thought about how easily your skin bruises…."

She groaned in defeat and pulled her undergarments back on.

"Let's get dressed," he suggested, walking over to her desk to re-wear his clothes from yesterday, "and we'll go from there."

Levi dressed quickly and went downstairs ahead of Petra, and in a couple more minutes, she emerged at the bottom of the stairs with a pale-yellow maternity dress, a gray wool cardigan over her sleeves, and red scarf wound securely around her neck; although a telltale reddish mark was still visible directly under her earlobe, it at least blended in with the color of the scarf. He glanced over at her from where he stood in the kitchen, boiling water in a teakettle over the wood-fired stove with various things ready on the counter to prepare for breakfast. The sight of her caused him to do a double-take to confirm that he wasn't seeing Mikasa instead of Petra. He supposed that red scarves were rather common after all, and them happening to wear the same color scarf didn't mean anything special.

"It's almost winter anyway," she concluded, pulling up next to him to see what he was up to. "I can wear a scarf indoors, right?"

"You can do whatever you want," he scoffed. "You just remind me of Mikasa. That girl you helped back then."

"Oh." In truth, the thought had vaguely occurred to her while she was getting dressed, but it was quickly drowned out by her desperation to stave off embarrassment. "Well, I can wear whatever I want, like you said. Even if it looks like I'm copying someone else." She noticed the box of eggs and an onion on a cutting board he had already set out on the counter, and she reached for the frying pan to presumably start making omelets.

"No, I'll take care of it," he insisted, prying the pan handle out of her grip. "You can lie down on the couch and nap a little more."

"Aw, but I want to help. I want to spend time with you."

"You will," he said. "We can talk over breakfast. But you said you'd rest. So rest for now."

"Gee, what a domestic god you are," she sighed, humming cheerily to herself as she drifted off towards the couch and laid down facing outward, letting the ambient sounds of the kitchen overtake the house. As she let her eyelids droop, her vision filled with the snowy white and greenish-blue hues of edelweiss crowding the sides of the couch in their planters.

In what felt like no time at all, she felt his hand shaking her gently by the shoulder, and she opened her eyes to see him sitting next to her on the edge of the couch, illuminated by the morning light from the living room window. He smiled down at her in his subtle, comforting way, and she smiled back.

"Time for breakfast," he said, and he took her hand to help her to her feet. "Your parents are up, too."

"Gee, a family breakfast at last," she mused, combing her hair with her fingers to make herself more presentable again. She slid into her chair next to her mother and diagonally from her father, leaving just Levi's seat open across from her as he finished plating the omelets. His black suit jacket hung on the back of his chair, catching her eye as if to tell her that that was his seat, even when he wasn't sitting there.

"So, it sounded like… you like the new bed, Captain," her mother giggled from her seat at the table, hiding behind sips of her tea.

"No comment," Levi uttered simply, although with a wry upturn of the corners of his lips before he, too, stole away behind his own teacup.

"What sound? It almost doesn't make noise," Petra insisted, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Whatever had she done to deserve parents this embarrassing?

"Yeah, almost," her father laughed, devolving into wheezing. "But, well, as long as you're not too rowdy for the neighbors…." And he cleared his throat pointedly and took a sip of his tea as well.

Levi shook his head in exasperation and set Petra's and her mother's plates down in front of them, then went back for her father's and his plates. As he took his seat at last, he glanced over to see Petra starting to eat her omelet, and she nodded with approval as she chewed.

"Did it come out all right?" he asked her.

"Well," she began, "there's a little less salt than I would have put in it, but otherwise, it's great!"

Her parents smiled to themselves.

"Then you can add salt to taste," Levi muttered, handing her the salt shaker from the middle of the table.

"I know, I know," Petra said, recalling a tidbit of trivia about Captain Levi: "You're not used to having seasonings in your food…."

She reached down for her own teacup, swilled it around, and took her first sip.

"Mmm, lavender tea in the morning," she sighed, letting the aroma waft upward onto her face. "Huh? Then is everyone drinking this, or…."

Her other three tablemates glanced uneasily at each other.

"No," Levi said at last. "Just you."

She sighed heavily and took another sip, feeling almost irrationally frustrated at being left out.

"Can't I just have one little sip of your tea?" she pouted. "Just to taste it again?"

He took a moment to gaze at her, his expression unreadable, and then he said, "Fine. One sip." And he slid his saucer and teacup across the table to her and started on his omelet.

She smiled in silent self-congratulation and helped herself to one sip, then a second little sip, while she was at it. He raised an eyebrow at her as he chewed his food, but he didn't bother to say anything.

"Okay, that's all," she said, grinning, and gave his tea back to him. "Thank you…."

"When I was pregnant," her mother declared, "I drank a cup of black tea every morning. No begging for one measly sip."

"What?" Petra frowned at her, feeling wronged all over again. "Then why can't I?"

Mrs. Ral sheepishly pushed her hair back from her face and tilted her head back.

"Well, 'cause your husband goes by the book much more than mine!" She grinned and stuck a bite of egg studded with onion pieces in her mouth.

"Well, you churned around like crazy in her belly every morning after breakfast, little missy," her father pointed out before taking another mouthful of food as well. "The Captain does have a point."

"Then it's not my fault I'm addicted to tea," Petra huffed. "It's my mother's fault for drinking it!"

"Then we're perpetuating the cycle if I let you do the same thing she did," Levi declared.

"You're such a hypocrite," she sniffed. "Let's see you go nine months without any black tea!"

As if on cue, he took another sip of his tea. "Nah, I'd rather not."

Petra stuffed the largest mouthful of omelet into her mouth that would fit into her cheeks and took her sweet time in chewing. He really seemed to take pleasure in annoying her by withholding something he knew she liked, even though he claimed to be doing it for her and the baby's own good. And she resolved to think of a way to get revenge on him for it in something equally petty that would nevertheless annoy him to no end….

"Petra." Levi stared at her over his empty plate.

"Hm?" She plastered on a bright, innocent smile, some chewed-up food still sitting in her cheeks.

"We're all done eating but you." He glanced down at her half-eaten omelet growing cold. "And… I gotta go."

She swallowed what was left in her mouth and swigged down the rest of her tea with it. "Okay. I'll see you out."

He sighed and got to his feet, pushing the chair back in. "You're going back and finishing your food, right?"

"Of course I will." She grinned at him again. "I mean, I seasoned it to my particular tastes, so who else is gonna eat it but me?"

"Sorry it wasn't that good," he admitted. He pulled his suit jacket back on and fixed his shirt collar for a moment, then nodded in goodbye to her parents, who waved back and turned to tend to the dishes.

"Oh, it was perfectly good!" she insisted as she got up to follow him. "It's far wiser to err on the side of caution. Better to have too little salt than too much."

He smirked at her and turned the doorknob.

"I guess I'll keep on doing what I always do, then," he decided.

"Well," she hummed, "I dunno about singling me out with a different tea than everyone else, but as far as food goes, yes."

And despite her internal grumbling about him holding her to a different standard, she could not help but sigh at him as a rush of wistfulness overtook her now that he was leaving yet again. Moments like this were always bittersweet, burning into her memory as milestones punctuating the days, reminding her of the promise of a different life than the one she led when he was not around: the domestic life, complete with a husband who was beholden to no one and nothing but the family they shared.

He pulled her into a tight hug as she stood there, losing herself in the moment, and he gave her a whisper of a kiss on her ear.

"You take care," he said. "I love you."

She nodded, still holding him close for one more moment.

"I love you, too."

And she pushed him free and over the threshold of the open doorway. He turned back one last time to smile sadly at her, then faced forward again to move onward toward his duty.

A bizarre, burbling flutter in her lower belly gave her pause, and she slid her hand over it to ascertain what it was. Did she have gas? Was her stomach grumbling because she hadn't finished eating yet? Or….

"Mother," Petra called out to the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Is this… what you meant?" She turned to show her mother peeping her head out to see. "A 'churning in my belly'?"

Her mother beamed at her. "Yes! That's the baby!"

"It was the tea," her father chuckled from just out of view. "Even just one sip will do it, eh?"

Petra smiled just as happily to herself as she closed and locked the door. So this was how it felt to be a mother, she thought to herself. This was a future she could not just see, but feel.

Notes:

Fun fact: I based Lenore's raven-haired appearance on the character of Rinoa from the video game Final Fantasy VIII, which is my favorite Final Fantasy game. (I like to think that Final Fantasy Versus XIII was going to be my favorite, but as you may know, that game got redeveloped into Final Fantasy XV, which had a lot of issues, let's just say...) Anyway, the character's name was originally going to be "Lenore", but they changed it to "Rinoa" to be closer to the Japanese pronunciation of "Lenore."

Chapter 20: Bloodlines

Summary:

Levi and Petra feel the gathering storm as an uncertain future draws nearer. The anniversary of the King's coronation brings unexpected encounters and impossible choices.

Notes:

After a couple of slower chapters with Rivetra times at home, this one is brooding and dramatic for a change of pace again. You may notice that this chapter is only about 5,000 words instead of the usual 10,000, but I decided to change things up and leave you all with a cliffhanger for a couple of weeks. (Please don't kill me!)

I'm realizing that by the end of this alternate timeline, we will have spent more chapters there than in the main timeline so far! But I'm choosing to view that as a good thing. Thank you all again for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy!

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Theme of RENA (Album Version)" – Motoi Sakuraba (Star Ocean: The Second Story OST)

Night had fallen over Trost, and in the military barracks, Levi sat cross-legged at the round table in Erwin's room while Erwin stood by the window, examining the written report on the unfolded paper in his hand. Erwin had recovered enough from his amputation to move back into his Commander's Quarters, and he spent the long hours of the days digging through books, thinking, planning, and holding the occasional meeting in his room. Now, with Levi's latest report on the Survey Corps experiments with Eren's Titan ability, both men were deep in thought, and deeply troubled.

After the silence while he read, Erwin said, "I see. Another failure, then. If the plan had worked out, we could have plugged the hole in Shiganshina District in less than a day."

"It's because we lack information," Levi insisted. "Might be a different story if there was a book about the hardening ability." He paused. "But we have Christa. No, Historia Reiss…. Maybe we learn about the wall through her?"

Erwin turned his head to consider the situation with her. "I read the entire report about her upbringing. She's the illegitimate daughter of Lord Reiss, and it's by no means a happy story. But the real mystery here… is why a mere regional lord would know the secrets of the wall."

"Beats me. But at least it's clear that Lord Reiss is more than just a 'mere regional lord.'"

Levi sighed and uncrossed his legs, and he dragged his arm halfway down from the table to rest his fingers on the table's edge, gripping for just a little longer before letting go.

"I'd better go," he said in his usual brusque tone of voice, gazing away from Erwin now. "It's getting late."

"Why the rush? Your room is right down the hall."

Levi glanced down at his knees, wondering how much more walking he ought to be doing on a knee that had barely recovered in the past few weeks. Nevertheless, he had decided what he would do, and it felt like the right decision.

"No, I have a bit farther to go than that." His voice was softer now, as if admitting a secret out loud for the first time.

Erwin sighed quietly to himself. "I see."

An uneasy silence blossomed in the air between them now, swelling rapidly as if to smother them under the enormity of its weight.

"Erwin."

"Hm?"

Levi crossed his arms as tightly as he ever had, letting his knuckles turn white from squeezing his own biceps in his hands. "Are you ever going to stop being so pissed at me?"

Erwin scoffed. "I'm not pissed. At least... not so much anymore."

And a more vulnerable expression flashed in his eyes. Was he sad? Perhaps even a little envious?

"To tell the truth, I've sent our soldiers to their deaths more times than I can count. Petra very well would have been one of them. But you thought that she was special. And you saw to it that she was out of danger. I suppose I can understand that much."

Levi gave a look of grim apology, but his gaze was set with resolve.

"She means a lot to me... No, she means everything to me. I can't help it." He loosened his arms and got to his feet at last. "I'm sorry."

"I understand," Erwin sighed. He pivoted in place to gaze out the open curtains into the street. "Just remember that your family is the reason why we do what we must. Even if it hurts them."

"I want to avoid hurting the people I care about if possible."

Erwin turned his head back to meet Levi's eyes again.

"But it isn't possible. Deep down inside, you know that."

Levi's hands found their way into his pockets as he hung his head, studying the grains of the floorboards at his toes.

"Yeah. I know. But I'd still rather not believe it."

Erwin mused, his voice far-off, "Isn't it remarkable how far our beliefs can carry us..."

Levi huffed. "Now you're getting philosophical on me again. It's getting late for that, too."

"But hear me out while I still have you here."

Erwin's gaze bored into Levi's face, but the latter preferred to let his own gaze flit around the room, from the floor to the bed frame to the stacks of books around Erwin's legs—anywhere but at the speaker of painful truths.

"You went from having nothing to lose to having the most to lose out of anyone. Because you were unwilling to make that sacrifice."

Levi pointedly continued to avoid his gaze, unwilling to be lectured at yet again for his supposed selfishness.

"The time will come when you must sacrifice something, just like the rest. And it will be far more painful for you than it had to be—because you gave yourself everything, and now you have everything to lose."

Erwin gave one more pause to let his words linger, and he shuffled over to his bed and started moving books from the foot of his bed to his desk with his left hand, one book at a time. Levi made to help his one-armed boss, but Erwin waved his one remaining hand, sparing only a momentary glance at Levi before returning to his housekeeping.

"I'm fine. You get going. Like you said: you have a longer night ahead of you than I do."

Working at the shop that day was much the same as usual for Petra, other than her newfound realization that she could feel her baby moving if she paid close enough attention. She lapsed into periods of daydreaming between customers, staring at the carved wooden statue next to her accounting ledger on the counter: a statue of two figures of none other than Christa and the Titan—the girl and the monster whose fates intertwined, much like how their bodies twisted together at the feet, growing upward from the ground like twin trunks of one tree.

The bell above the shop door jingled, and in came the kindly, middle-aged woman who Petra recognized had given her the flyer for the social support group.

"Are you all right, miss?" the woman asked with a note of concern in her voice.

"Hm?" Petra frowned.

The woman pointed tentatively at Petra's neck. "You have bruises…."

Petra gasped and felt her face flush when she realized that her scarf had drooped down, revealing the top half of her neck. She shot a hand up to readjust the fabric securely around her skin again.

"If you need help, miss… tell the folks at the Military Families Group," the woman urged her. And she gave a well-meaning smile of pity. "Those military men go through a lot out there, you know. When they come back home, things can get… complicated."

"I'm fine, ma'am," Petra insisted. She leaned in and half-whispered to the woman, "Everything's fine. They're just… hickeys." And she covered her face with a hand in raging embarrassment at having to confess it to a mere acquaintance. "Ummm… but thank you. For your concern."

"Well, all right, then," the woman sighed, seemingly unconvinced. "You take care, dear." And she gathered a handful of pears from the barrel next to her and set them on the counter.

In the evening, Petra and her parents filed in through the front door, weary from another day's honest work and looking forward to another family dinner (minus Captain Levi, but that could not be helped).

"Ooh, look who has another present," Mrs. Ral gushed from the dining room.

"Huh?" Petra hurried over to see for herself. Surely enough, at Petra's seat at the dining table, she found a small jar with ointment for bruises, just as Levi had promised. She lit a candle for herself and went straight to the bathroom to put the ointment on, tugging her red scarf off and hanging it on the over-the-door hook. But when she peered into the mirror, she had to take a second look: the hickeys were already gone.

"How is that possible?" she mumbled to herself, turning her head and lifting her chin one more time just to be sure. "How can I bruise so easily and then heal so quickly…?"

As Petra's latest checkup from the military physician ended, she pushed herself up from her bed onto her hands, pulled the hem of her dress back down over her legs, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The doctor packed her stethoscope in her bag and scribbled some final notes in her notebook as Petra sat quietly, gripping the corner of the mattress with her hands as she steeled herself through a smattering of kicks from the tiny human in her belly. At four-and-a-half months pregnant now, she surmised that her baby would only become more active as it inevitably grew into a little version of her and Levi mixed together—and since both of them were naturally active people themselves, she was sure they would soon have an energetic baby on their hands, and a rambunctious toddler soon after that. But all that was yet to come; for now, the cradle was her body, and her baby was easily felt, but only indirectly seen.

"Well, you're doing great so far, Petra," the doctor concluded. "Keep that baby moving. But I want to know your family history. Your parents really didn't tell you anything substantial about the day you were born?" she pressed her.

Petra shook her head. "I guess the talk of details never came up. They just say I was their 'little angel' and leave it at that." She glanced towards the door, hearing the subtle sounds of someone busying themselves in the kitchen. "I bet that's her downstairs, though. If you want to ask her now."

The doctor gave a tacit nod and slipped her notebook into the pocket of her coat. "I think it's time we did."

In the kitchen a minute later, the three women took a seat at the tiny dining room table. Petra guided the doctor to sit in her father's usual seat—it somehow did not feel right to let someone else sit in Levi's chair, even though he wasn't there to protest. At any rate, with her mother and her doctor gazing expectantly across the table from each other now, she had no idea how this conversation would go—or how concerned she ought to be.

The doctor clasped her hands together. "Mrs. Ral, your daughter said that you haven't told her much about your own experience of giving birth to her."

Mrs. Ral nodded slightly, her face drawn. "No, that's right. I haven't..."

"I'd like to ask you, then, if that's all right. How did it go? What do you remember?"

Mrs. Ral glanced uneasily at Petra, but she steeled herself with a deep breath and continued.

"I didn't want to worry her, so I never told her," she admitted quietly, glancing guiltily over at Petra. "But, well... It wasn't easy. I don't remember much because I bled a lot. So much that I passed out... and... they said I could have died." She sighed and pursed her lips, perhaps to help maintain her composure. "So that's why we decided not to have any more children after Petra." And she gave a bittersweet smile at her daughter, who stared back at her, thunderstruck.

The doctor heaved a sigh and nodded her head. "You may have heard this from your own doctor back then, but there is a general consensus that redheads—"

"'Redheads bleed.'" Mrs. Ral's voice was strained. "I know."

The doctor turned to Petra, her gaze as arrestingly direct as Levi's could be at his most serious.

"Petra, you may be short, but your hips are adequately wide. And your husband isn't much taller than you, so your baby most likely will not be unmanageably big for a woman of your size. But even so… you've told me that you bruise easily. And yes, technically it's your mother who's the redhead, and you're blonde on your father's side. But being prone to bruising is part of being more prone to bleeding."

Petra nodded slowly, being told something she knew innately for a long time.

"So, even though you're 'half redhead', you likely still have a comparable level of risk for complications in childbirth yourself." She eyed Mrs. Ral out of the corner of her eye. "A risk that I wish you had been aware of before you had decided to proceed with this pregnancy. Just in case that would have affected your decision."

Mrs. Ral covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes growing wide.

"It's okay, Mother," Petra said, her voice steady. "It wouldn't have changed a thing."

Her mother shook her head, looking away. "But would it have? Should it have? I don't know anymore..."

"But you pulled through," Petra insisted. She squeezed her fingers around the table edge. "So who's to say I can't?"

"Doctor, please," Mrs. Ral sniffed, letting her hands drop helplessly into her lap. "I just wanted my daughter to be happy. She wanted this baby, she loves her husband, it made her happy to be able to look forward to this. So… let's all be hopeful. Hm?"

And the doctor nodded in finality, her expression set. "I agree. There's nowhere to go but forward now. But… at least now we know. And we can anticipate."

Mrs. Ral turned to her daughter again, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. "Petra. Sweetie. I never meant to scare you. But I never meant to lie to you either. I'm… I'm sorry…."

Petra smiled sadly. "You thought it was for the best. I get it."

"Petra," the doctor added, getting to her feet again. "Please don't think of this as anything as dramatic as a death sentence. Yes, it's true that there are no guarantees. But as I said: the more we know, the better we can support you when the time comes. And, as you said: your mother pulled through. And with more than twenty years of medical advancement on your side since then, I daresay you can, too."

Petra and her mother anxiously watched the doctor make her way to the door to let herself out. But when her hand was on the doorknob, Petra sprang to her feet and rushed over.

"Doctor," she gasped at her in the open doorway. "Are you going to tell Captain Levi?"

The doctor heaved a sigh, dipping her head. "Sweetie. It's bad enough that he can never be here for your checkups. I want to let you tell him yourself, but… I'll give you one month to do it." She nodded to herself while she formulated the plan in her head. "And regardless, I'll be writing him a letter summarizing our visits so far. I'll tell him to ask you more, and you can take it from there. Hm?"

Petra's eyes fell as self-doubt crept in. How to tell him without worrying him more than necessary….

"Yes, doctor. I'll do what I have to."

On the day of the anniversary of the King's coronation, all three Rals were at the shop, taking full advantage of the throng of people in the streets to make some sales. As usual, Petra rang people's orders up and did the bookkeeping at the storefront while her parents managed the inventory and fulfilled orders behind her. Petra's parents sent her out to get their family's ration when they heard the MPs begin to make their way up and down the streets to call people outside.

When Petra reapproached the shop with her armful of the family's rations, she gazed up to admire the wooden sign hanging above the front door that said "Little Angel Flowers & Grocer" in delicate lettering. She realized that she had not recently given thought to the customer's perspective. And she could not help but wonder what Levi would think of their humble shop, from her fan merchandise displayed on the counter to the arrangement of the shop as a whole: flowers grouped in tall aluminum vases, fruits and vegetables piled in barrels, and an angel floating above the door to the shop dedicated to her—her parents' little angel.

But she supposed that he had not had an occasion to idly wander around in Downtown Trost while their shop was open. Nevertheless, it was an amusing thought to imagine him walking in through the door with a smirk on his face, just knowing it was him before even hearing the bell ring, and breaking out into a smile at having another surprise visit (but during the day this time).

She deposited the canvas bag on the back counter next to a small pile of blue and white roses her mother was laying out for a preordered bouquet, and her mother and father crowded around to paw eagerly through the haul of bread, hard cheese, and dried fruit. And she nodded to humor them with a few "Mmm-hmm"s, although she could do without more of the exact same bread they had had to eat for a week straight during those endless days Underground that had might as well have been one long night, save for having Levi by her side.

Retaking her seat on the stool behind the front counter, Petra rested her hands around her belly. Her hands naturally tended to find themselves there more and more often these days, absentmindedly caressing her belly with her thumb—and she often would feel that churning, stirring sensation in her belly, as if the baby could feel her hand resting against it and decided to wriggle around in greeting. Furthermore, she would sometimes even feel the most undeniable evidence yet that that bringer of strange sensations was a baby: a swish of a tiny limb or a tiny foot, pressing insistently up against the inside of her womb and causing her to visibly wince at awkward times—such as when a customer walked in, as one did so now.

A man with a wide-brimmed hat, dark hair and a thin beard entered, followed by a blonde ponytailed woman. The man was wiry and fit, towering above Petra as she sat, and the woman was businesslike and athletic, nearly matching him in stature. They both wore cloaks over their clothing, concealing the outlines of equipment at their thighs. But while the woman struck Petra as a soldier immediately, the man exuded a lawless energy that was harder to pin down—and indeed, when he tilted his head to show his face under the brim of his hat, his dark eyes gleamed in curiosity, piercing into hers. She frowned and stared back at him, feeling her heartbeat more acutely in her chest. In her belly, the baby turned vigorously as it felt its mother's agitation….

"Nice ring." His eyes narrowed perceptibly, as if in vague recognition. "Not too common to have a stone that glows."

"Thank you," she replied bluntly. "Can I help you…?"

"Kinda strange to have a ring if you're not gonna wear it, though, ya know? I bet you'd be hurting someone's feelings otherwise…."

She glanced down at the ring hanging at her chest. "Hm, you know what? You're right." And she took the ring off her necklace and wore it on her left ring finger. He glanced around at their goods lining the walls; she eyed him through the tops of her eyes as she ran her thumb over the stone in a calculated, deliberate motion. Then she stood up and rested both hands on the countertop to help herself summon more self-confidence against this threatening stranger.

The man looked her up and down to size up her full standing height. "Damn, are you short, little lady. Is every short girl obsessed with Christa and the Titan?" He eyed the decoration on the countertop of the wood carving of Christa holding an apple, and the creature she befriended.

She raised an eyebrow when she noticed his interest in the wooden statue. "Oh? What do you know about that story?"

He chuckled and dipped his head. "Only that another little farmer girl I knew would carry that book around everywhere she went. The only time she finally put it down…" and he looked up menacingly into Petra's eyes, "was when I slit her mother's throat."

Petra's eyes widened in horror. "What do you want?" She heard her parents stirring behind her, slowly drawing closer to the impending trouble.

Behind the man, the blonde woman tracked him quizzically with her eyes. Being his right-hand soldier seemed to require thinking on one's feet. And Petra was reminded of when she herself had been Levi's right-hand woman: always vigilant to what he would do, and what might cross their path next...

"Word on the street is that you're Levi's girl," he drawled. "The little runt does me proud," he added with an air of approval.

Petra felt a chill pass throughout her body as she stood rooted to the spot.

"How do you know him?" Her voice was frosty and demanding.

He scoffed. "I only taught him everything he knows. And not even a wedding invitation in the mail… oh wait." He tilted his head upward, grinning to himself. "I guess there was no time: it was a shotgun wedding."

Petra's parents stood aghast, closing in protectively behind her.

"Are you his father?" Mr. Ral demanded, his voice sharp. He reached his hand slowly into his pocket to grasp his pocketknife, but the blonde woman noticed his movement and whipped out a gun with a barrel the width of his fist. He cursed under his breath and raised his empty hands in defeat.

The man bent over wheezing with laughter. "Well, his mother was my sister, so I damn well hope not!"

Mrs. Ral covered her mouth with a shaky hand. Petra's widened eyes hardened, glaring impassively up at the man.

"Well, apparently you're a Scout. Just like him." The man straightened up to bore his eyes into hers. "That's why you're gonna help me. After I help you."

"I don't need your help," she declared to try to sound brave, but her voice came out shaky and hoarse.

"Then prove it." He proceeded to roll up his sleeves. "I've always been curious to test this out on a pregnant woman, ya know," he mused to himself. "And now I can." The corners of his lips drew into a wide grin. "Thanks to you—"

He reached out with one hand and impulsively grabbed Petra by the upper arm. She gasped at the force of his grip and reached up to break free of him, but by doing so, she realized too late that she was presenting the wrist of her other hand. Surely enough, he abandoned her arm and grabbed her wrist instead now, nearly crushing her bones with his inhuman strength.

"I'm disappointed," he sighed, swatting her free hand away as she struggled fruitlessly to leverage her way out of his grip. "If ya can't even fend off one crazy old man, then ya can't make it on your own."

"Captain," the blonde woman said warily. "Don't go too far with this…."

Petra continued to struggle, digging into his hand with her fingernails in increasing desperation. "Let go!" she shrieked, starting to draw blood from raking her claws across the back of his hand.

"Kids grow up fast, don't they, mister?" he said to Petra's father, seemingly unperturbed by his bleeding hand leaking onto the counter. "Eh, well, guess they don't always grow that big," he corrected himself, sizing up her petite frame, "but before you know it, they're makin' babies themselves."

"I said let go!" she snarled more forcefully, baring her teeth at him. She finally managed to pry his fingers off her wrist using her brute strength, but in another instant, he grabbed her by the throat to strangle her with one hand. She clenched her neck muscles to keep him from crushing her airway in his grip, but his hand felt so unnaturally strong that she struggled to hold him at bay. His hand was big enough for his fingers to wrap all the way around to the back of her neck, and her neck bones ached from the pressure of his fingertips clutching around them. And while she clutched around his hand with her own right hand in apparent helplessness, she gave a desperate swipe of her left fist at him. And although his arm was too long for her to be able to reach far enough to land a solid hit on him, and he jerked his head up and back in time to get his eyes out of range of her fist, she still managed to scrape him across the cheekbone with the ring on her knuckle, slicing open his skin.

"You almost took my eye out. Heh." He mercilessly tightened his grip around her throat, squeezing a stifled squeak out of her. "That'll cost ya."

He swung his hand to backslap her across the face while still holding her immobile by the throat; she sensed the impending hit, curled her arm around the side of her head, and clenched her teeth in anticipation. But even so, as he made contact with her shielding arm, she reeled from the pain. He released her from his grip at last, letting her land unsteadily back on her feet. Her gray cardigan slid down her bare shoulders to reveal massive bruises sprouting all the way down her arm, drawing purplish red blood from her burst capillaries like the branches of a tree. She quickly started to feel dizzy from the force of the hit to her head, despite having cushioned herself with her arm, and she felt her eyelids start to droop. And her legs grew even weaker and she sank to her knees, leaning into her mother already squatting at the floor to catch her.

"You monster!" her mother snarled up at him.

"Hitting a woman—a pregnant woman!" her father shouted as well.

"Guilty as charged," he cackled with glee. "But don't go sayin' I went too far. I didn't touch her belly, did I?" he asked the room at large.

Petra gasped and wheezed from behind the counter. "Hell if I'm helping you—after what you're doing to me—"

"Oh, not to worry, missy: you're being plenty helpful."

The doorbell jingled again as a third person entered, this time another man in a cloak who whispered something in the blonde woman's ear. The woman gave him a curt nod, and the messenger left as quickly as he had come.

"Time to go, Captain," the woman said simply.

"Well, little lady, I went full-force on you and all you got are bruises, so it looks like my job is done. Now be a good girl and take a stroll outside, get some fresh air… give that ginger hair a toss." His dark eyes glinted in the light from the window. "He can't miss it."

He stumped out the door at last, grumbling to himself and holding his bleeding cheek with his hand. His female companion stared them down into submission, still training her gun on them, then slowly backed out the door as well.

"Whaddaya mean… that's all…" Petra wheezed through the agonizing burning in her throat. The sight of his eyes piercing into her unnerved her like nothing else—violent, playful, and intrigued all at once. If only he didn't resemble Levi so damn much, she would write him off as just another monster….

"Hang in there, Petra! I'm gonna get the MPs," Mr. Ral concluded and burst out the front door.

"Petra!" She shook her daughter by the shoulders. "Can you hear me? Stay with me. Stay awake..."

Petra blinked slowly, barely able to hold her head up. Her lips curled in an ironic smile. "Mother… I think I'm gonna have to… clock out early… for today…."

"You shut up!" Mrs. Ral screeched. "Stay awake, I said!"

"Just… put me down for 'sick leave'… ya know?... Heh…." Petra chuckled wearily.

"My God, where the hell are the MPs?" Mrs. Ral yelled out the door in panic. "Stop handing out your crusty bread and get your ass in here!"

As if on cue, Mr. Ral ripped the door back open with two Military Police officers in tow: two stern-looking men, one blond and one brunet.

"Please help my daughter!" he implored them, leaning his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. "See? Some madman came in here and beat her to a pulp!"

"What did he look like?" the blond MP asked. The brunet one knelt down next to Petra and sized up her injuries.

"Straight black hair, trimmed beard, tall, wearing a hat," her father rattled off urgently. "He came in with a blonde woman who pointed a huge shotgun at us."

"It's not just the bruises, officer," her mother said. "He hit her head so hard she can barely keep her eyes open!"

The MPs gave each other meaningful looks. The brunet MP closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to waver momentarily on what to do next, but he gave Petra a squeeze on the shoulder and stood up again.

"She'll be fine," he concluded with a curt nod in their direction. "Let her take the day off."

And the officers filed out the door, leaving the Rals in shock.

"You bastards," Mrs. Ral gasped. "Turning a blind eye to this?"

After hanging her head in a moment of hopeless self-pity, Petra inexplicably felt a surge of energy within her. So she willed herself to her feet, powered on to the front door, and stumbled out over the threshold on the verge of collapse. Her parents flung the door open after her, each kneeling down on either side of her. The crowd milling about for the free food gathered around at the sight of a pregnant woman sitting on the ground with bruises all over her neck and shoulder, and hushed gasps rippled outward. A few well-meaning strangers leaned in over her, urgently pestering her:

"What happened, miss?"

"Who did this to you?"

"Yes, who? What happened?"

Petra could barely make out what people were asking her, but something inside her summoned her to lift her head. And in the crowd before her, interspersed with the faces of concerned strangers, she found herself staring back at none other than Captain Levi with his squad from the former 104th Cadets, all clad in cloaks and frozen in shock at the sight of her.

When Levi found himself being swept along by the crowd, he was not expecting this. Just laying eyes upon her was as excruciating to him as if someone had plunged their hand into his chest and crushed his heart, bursting it in their fist. And maybe that's what it had felt like to her to have had the fucker who hurt her throttle her with one hand while he beat her senseless with the other.

Who would do this? Levi asked himself. Why her? And why now?

"Captain," he heard Mikasa saying. "That's Petra…."

He slammed his eyes shut for a second, fighting down the urge to scream. No matter how badly he wanted to run to her side, if he broke away from his squad and exposed himself, the mission would be over before it had even begun. Was this the kind of sacrifice that Erwin had meant? To abandon his loved ones in their moment of need to focus on his duty?

"Continue the mission," Levi decided in a low growl. "While the crowd is distracted."

He and Mikasa glanced at each other grimly, and after a flash of pained understanding across her face, she nodded in grave acceptance.

Petra wanted so badly to reach out towards him, but the man's voice in her head stopped her: You're gonna help me…. Give that ginger hair a toss…. He can't miss it.

I can't point him out to anyone, she realized miserably, hearing her blood roaring in her ears. That man is watching… looking for Levi….

But her vision was not blurry, and she was sure that it was him. And yet when he saw her recognize him, he spared her only an instant of concern before he turned his face away as quickly as possible to hide behind the hood of his cloak. And even though it hurt him almost more than he could bear, he forced himself with the last of his resolve to walk away from her, and bury his guilt until he could find out the truth—and until then, he had no choice but to trust that she would make it on her own.

Chapter 21: No Regrets

Summary:

Levi, Petra, and Mikasa's fateful sunny day continues, leading them to confront their own doubts in the face of tragedy.

Notes:

This chapter is extra long (even by my standards!) and there's a lot to digest in it. I probably won't have the next one ready for several weeks, so please be patient and read this chapter slowly. Good luck: it's a tough one to survive!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Call of Silence (Piano Cover)" – PianoDeuss

Petra still couldn't believe it all.

How did she manage to get beaten up so badly by someone—and then have Levi see her in that state, sitting on the ground in public for everyone to see?

And by his mother's brother? His uncle? Someone with all the awesomely terrifying qualities about him— his superhuman strength and speed, and his intense eyes conveying his singular conviction, with all his ferocity and none of his kindness. Someone who knew the full extent of his power, but who used it to terrorize others instead of fight on their behalf. Someone so very unlike Levi, despite being his blood relative….

And when Levi saw her, he turned and walked away from her. She saw his face for a precious instant, she looked into his eyes for just one moment… and even though his actions said the opposite, at least his eyes told her that he wanted to come to her—to ask her what happened, and who, and why, and swear to her that he would get revenge.

She closed her eyes and let her head droop, remembering the terror she had felt as the man's fingers had tightened around her throat. She had felt certain that he would crush her windpipe and kill her, but somehow, he did not. He had claimed to have gone at her "full-force", and yet she had still survived an assault so brutal that it would very well have killed any normal person….

"Petra!" her mother admonished her, shaking her by the shoulder yet again. "Don't fall asleep on us. Stay with us…."

And then she squeezed her eyelids shut a little more tightly, remembering herself telling Levi how far from a normal person he was. How he had told her on the day she met Mikasa that incredible power had surged within him as a child and stayed with him ever since. And she started to even question how she was able to think so clearly about any of this, so soon after getting hit on the head so hard that she could hardly stand….

Surely enough, now that she thought about it, the pounding in her head was slowly starting to fade. She let her head keep hanging low, but she gradually opened her eyes, focusing on the cobblestones on the ground before her. Cobblestones beneath the feet of people, standing shoulder to shoulder, watching her, unable to look away….

She gave a rueful sniffle when she recalled the sight of Levi with his new right-hand woman, Mikasa, who still wore a red scarf indistinguishable from the one she herself had worn not long ago. On all three times Petra had met her so far, that girl had worn the same well-worn scarf as a memento that defined her. But maybe that was not so different from how she herself wore the same necklace and ring every day without fail since the day Levi gave them to her. The well-meaning woman who always bought pears had seemed to think that her bruises were the marks of abuse from a husband whose trauma had corrupted him. And on the surface, she had been wrong. But was the necklace not a literal chain around her neck—beautiful and seemingly delicate, yet still too strong to break with her own strength? And was the ring not a literal shining beacon in the dark, so she could not hide from him even if she wanted to?

She shook her head to dispel it of thoughts of such dark ulterior motives. They were gifts of love, not of enslavement. And she was no slave to love. She did not need his love to keep pushing on—she did not need him by her side to keep on living.

"What is it?" her father asked. "Why are you shaking your head?"

Petra's lips parted at last, finding her voice tumbling out in a rasp: "The MPs."

"What? Those assholes?" her mother asked. "What about them?"

"They left me for dead… they wanted me to die…." She blinked to stem the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Whether they themselves had beaten her with their own hands or not, it was clear that her life meant nothing to them.

"We don't need them," her mother said fiercely. "You're strong. Maybe we can find the doctor; she'll help."

And she gave a pointed look at her husband, who nodded in agreement.

"I'll go check the barracks," Mr. Ral assured them, giving Petra one final, troubled glance over his shoulder before slipping into the crowd.

"You described that man to them," Petra explained hoarsely to her mother. "And then they left." She paused to take a deep, painful breath. "They know who he is. And they're on his side. So that means… my life is in their hands… as long I'm here."

She lifted her head at last to take in the faces of the crowd—many people huddled around and staring at her, a few in the back shaking their heads helplessly and drifting away. And interspersed with them were Military Police officers on patrol, managing the line for rations from the King, or talking amongst themselves in groups of two or three, plotting something. The two MPs who had come in to see her were deep in conversation with each other behind the raised wooden platform for handing out rations, while a third MP next to them—noticeably younger, with curly black hair—gazed at her for a questioning moment over the open notepad in his hand before he lowered his eyes to the paper and began to draw or notate something. The blond MP also seemed to sense her eyes on him and turned to look her in the eyes, his expression unfathomable. And she drew in a shaky gasp and felt the tears slide down her cheeks.

"I wanna go back in," she said, pushing herself up to her feet at her mother's protest. Her sudden burst of liveliness surprised even herself, but there was no more time for self-congratulations. "I want to eat the King's cheese."

"You're crying, sweetie," her mother murmured uncertainly. "How's cheese gonna help with that?"

"Stress eating. I don't know," she blurted out. And she turned and walked slowly back through the open door to their shop, managing to remain steady on her feet. This was progress. This was improvement. Mrs. Ral heaved a troubled sigh and followed Petra inside the shop again, pulling the door shut and locking it behind them.

"Okay. Sit here." Mrs. Ral guided Petra past the front counter to the back area to sit down on a bench near the flower table. She set the bag of rations on the bench next to Petra. "Eat some food."

Petra nodded gratefully and rummaged her hand around in the bag, pulling out a drawstring bag. She opened it to find a fist-sized amount of dried apple slices. She chuckled to herself, marveling at how much of her life had been shaped by apples, and she started nibbling on a piece at a deliberate pace. She started to gag from her sore throat, and her mother handed her a waterskin, which she drank from greedily.

While her head was tilted back to drink in the water, Petra eyed the cloak from Levi hanging from one of the wall hooks there. Her mother had decided to wear it to work every day lately, and Petra had not minded since she tended to generate enough body heat to keep herself warm without any trouble these days. But today was different: today, she felt as if she could use a little something extra to keep him close, since he could not be there himself. And she could not help but wonder to herself:

What would it have taken to make him stay? To come and be by my side? I mean… hasn't all this happened to me because of him?

"Mother… could I wear the cloak for a while?"

Her mother stiffened. "Are you getting colder? Do you feel sicker?" And she brought the cloak over and draped it over her shoulders, helping her tease her arms through the armholes.

"The Captain turned right around as soon as he saw you," Mrs. Ral added, starting to fret now as she straightened the rough fabric around her neck and fixed the hood behind Petra's shoulders. "I guess that would put a chill into anybody's heart." And she hung her head, avoiding her daughter's gaze to spare having to give her any more looks of pity.

Petra sniffed to herself, preferring not to address her mother's last comment. "I'll be fine—thanks to you."

With a fragile smile coming to her daughter's face, Mrs. Ral breathed a cautious sigh of relief.

"Thank God you're getting better. I really thought for a minute there that you—that—" And she covered her mouth with her hand and turned her face even further away to hide her forming tears.

"I'm okay, Mother," Petra assured her, instinctively curling her fingertips around the hems of her cloak sleeves. "I'm not going anywhere."

Zipping swiftly from rooftop to rooftop, Levi and Nifa made a decent duo for having paired up just that very morning. They each switched their attention between watching the wagon hiding Eren and Historia while checking behind them for Kenny and whoever might be working with him.

"Captain Levi," Nifa began, striking up conversation with her taciturn officer, "I'm glad you're still able to be so calm about all this."

"I could say the same about you."

Levi glanced over at her with a measure of concern weighing on him.

"Did you see her from up here?" he asked her.

Nifa shook her head; her flaming red locks of trimmed hair flitted back and forth with the movement, catching and channeling the sunlight into pillars framing her face.

"No. I was too far away already."

He turned his eyes away from her admittedly striking appearance and gazed off at the wagon in the distance again. He thought to himself that it was fitting that Petra's best friend would be even more redheaded than she was. And based on what he had learned from Petra about what life as a ginger was like, he supposed that there was a bond of kinship she would naturally feel with others who stood out in a crowd without meaning to.

"Then consider yourself lucky," he concluded.

Nifa frowned and glanced away. They watched the covered wagon with its precious cargo moving further down the street and they pulled themselves over by their wires to a closer rooftop to keep on tailing it.

"Nifa."

"Yes?"

He took a deep breath and let out a sigh through his nostrils. "I know you and Petra were close. When she was still on active duty."

She smiled slightly to herself.

"Yeah. We were."

He gave a nod. "What about now? Do you keep in touch? Do you write to each other?"

Nifa paused uneasily. "To be honest... we haven't." She glanced aside, pursing her lips into another frown of resignation. "I know I've been busy like you have, and as for her… she hasn't written to me, either. As far as I know."

"Did she say why not? Or was she just... preoccupied?"

She shrugged. "Well, to be fair, none of us have been back to the barracks in weeks. For all I know, there could be a stack of letters from her waiting for both of us."

She glanced around them once more to sweep for signs of danger, and still found none.

"But more realistically… I figured she just got too full of stuff 'upstairs.'" She sighed. "That's just what they say tends to happen when friends get married, you know? They get busy with family stuff—husbands and babies and all that."

She smiled directly at him now, warmly and assuredly this time.

"But I always figured she'd come back around when she was ready. I like to think we'll always be friends... even if we don't get to see each other much these days."

He gave another brief nod. "That's good. I think she does miss you. It's just..." and he hung his head and heaved a sigh of his own. "It's probably been hard enough for her just to be worrying about me."

And she giggled to herself a little and covered her mouth with her hand.

"I'd definitely believe that."

But her face gradually fell, and she gazed at him more intently out of the corners of her eyes.

"But you know… she gave up everything for you."

He glanced away uncomfortably as the plain truth needled at his heart.

"You two have each other now," she continued quietly. "So, you make sure you make it back home to her. Okay?"

His face was drawn with a renewed resolve.

"I will."

Levi was the one scanning around behind them when he saw him: Kenny the Ripper, a ghost from his past made incarnate again and pointing the barrel of a gun at Nifa, who was unfortunately exposed from the side angle at which Kenny approached. And Levi cursed himself inwardly as he reached out to drag Nifa down and out of the line of fire. Despite having been on high alert after seeing Petra's beating, their vigilance had only bought them a split second to react—and it was not enough time to save them both.

But react Nifa did, springing upward from her coiled legs to shove Levi over and behind the protection of the brick chimney next to him. He yelled out, "Nifa!" and saw her golden eyes widen with impending realization, but it was too late: the bullet was impossibly large, destroying her face in one devastating hit through one side of her head. The gore sprayed onto him in chunks as her body fell uselessly onto him; all that was left of her head was the bowl of the back of her skull, covered by her distinctive, bright red hair.

Levi screamed at their attacker: "Kenny!" and flung one of his blades at the man, who deflected it easily. And thus, the chase began: his former guardian Kenny and his henchmen peppered across the rooftops, clashing with the Scouts using the long-range advantage of their guns. The yelling of Hange's squad members and the booming of gunshots told him the extent of their failure, even despite knowing they would be attacked. And everywhere he flew, more of them followed, forcing him to change his trajectory again and again.

Shit! Was moving in pairs so closely a mistake? If I had had one of us in front and one of us a few meters behind, we could have gotten the jump on these guys trying to ambush us.

The questions dogged him as he desperately evaded his pursuers: why was Kenny in the MPs after all these years of killing them? Why did he leave him Underground and simply disappear? Why was Kenny willing to go through the trouble of killing him on the way to Eren and Historia? And what did harassing Petra and displaying her injuries in public have anything to do with this—if not for her proximity to him?

In a quiet tavern, Levi burst in the swinging saloon doors, flying in sideways on his ODM gear and landing on the front wall of the counter. The bar owner, a portly, middle-aged man with a gray mustache and bowtie, gasped as he grew starstruck.

"It's… Captain Levi! Of the Survey Corps!"

The tavern patrons gawked, one man letting his sausage slide off his fork. Levi made his way behind the counter and crouched down to wait for his pursuer to come to him.

"Ain't that the damndest thing!" Kenny's voice boomed out. "I smell a filthy rat coming from this bar…. Come out, you little rodent."

Levi heard him jumping in through the front doors swinging inward on their hinges.

"Found ya! The law has come to exterminate the vermin! Bang! Bang!" he declared with glee as he stomped his feet in unison with his words.

There was a moment of silence as the bar owner panicked further and the anxious diner's sausage fell off his fork for the second time.

"The hell?! Ain't you here?!" Kenny roared, seeming to relish the theatricality in the sound of his own voice.

Levi waited for an opportune moment to speak, after he let another strained silence hang ripely in the air to taunt his pursuer in return.

"Right here, Kenny. It's been a while. Never thought you'd still be alive. What happened to slaughtering the Military Police? Now you're one of them?"

"Adults do plenty of things a kid like you can't understand." He snickered to himself. "Oops, my bad. You're just so tiny, it's hard to believe you're older now."

It's hard to believe how much older I am now, Levi thought to himself bitterly. And of course he doesn't have a shred of guilt in him over leaving me.

"I been looking forward to seeing you in action," Kenny continued. "Never thought all those tricks I taught you would be helping you out like this. Didn't I ever tell you what happens to a cornered rat? No matter which way you try to run, you'll get blasted from above. Hey, Levi…."

Kenny picked up a wooden chair next to him and hurled it at the wine racks behind the bar, unleashing a torrent of wine and broken glass in a waterfall in front of Levi. Levi thought wryly to himself that it was yet another example of how Kenny had always liked to make things bleed.

"There's gotta be a reason you became a Scout, and I think I know what it is. We had no choice but to survive in that garbage dump. It took all we had each day to keep livin'. And when we found out how big the world really was, you can bet it hurt like hell. But something saved us…. We'd found something we wanted to do. It's that simple. It's simple, but the truth is… the only thing that made our lives fulfilling was finding hobbies."

Levi clenched his teeth into a snarl: "Hobbies? So is blowing off the heads of my team another hobby of yours?" He rotated a wine glass to move its label over, revealing Kenny's reflection in the uncovered glass.

"Yup…. To achieve my grand goals, I'll kill as much as I have to." He paused. "Well, before that, I got acquainted with your lovely wife. Did you see her? It's hard to miss a ginger in a crowd…. "

"You piece of shit. Of course it would be you."

Kenny chuckled. "You did good, kid. I went in there to slap her around a bit and make sure she could handle herself, but it turns out you saw to that all on your own. You really don't need me for anything anymore…."

"Damn right I don't," Levi growled, putting on a front of confidence. In truth, he was not quite sure what Kenny was getting at: what had Levi 'seen to'? By training her up as a member of his squad? Or was there something further he had apparently done for her that he had not realized?

Kenny continued, thoroughly unfazed: "I did her a favor by testing her limits, you know. If she can survive me, then she can survive anyone."

Levi scoffed. "So throttling a pregnant woman is just 'testing her limits'?"

"She ain't just any pregnant woman: she's carrying a special breed of baby…. Not that you would know, I guess."

"What? What are you talking about?"

How would our baby be any more special than anyone else's?

"I shoulda been able to crush her windpipe like a roll of paper. But she resisted me and made it too hard to bother finishing the job. Kinda like how you would've saved yourself, too, back in the day. Heh. Pretty cool to see..."

Levi cradled the bar owner's shotgun in his hands, readying himself for the impending end of the conversation—at least, the end that he would bring about from imminently tiring of listening to Kenny's twisted self-justifications.

"You sick freak. I oughta rip you apart."

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but I don't plan on dying until I reach my goal."

"And what is your goal?"

"You'll have to find out." He pointed his gun at the counter. "You can act all high and mighty like every other insufferable Scout who 'fights for humanity', but you're no different from me. You kill when it benefits you, too."

Levi nodded to himself. "Yeah…." And he finally swung the shotgun on Kenny, blasting the wooden chair in his hands to bits.

As Petra continued to sit under her mother's worried gaze, slowly chewing through the King's dried apple slices and hard, sharp-tasting cheese and washing it all down with sips of water, she heard the boom of gunshots in the distance ringing out in the streets, and intermittent gasps and screams. And she affected the practiced numbness inside that used to keep her focused during missions. I'm off-duty now, she told herself. There's nothing I can do but wait.

After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Ral finally unlocked the back door to let himself in, and his face was stoic.

"It's like a ghost town at the barracks. They said that a lot of people were arrested yesterday."

"What?" Petra gasped.

"Yup." He turned to lock the door behind him. "Commander Erwin, your physician, and everyone else in the Survey Corps or affiliated with them that the MPs could get their hands on. They said that the government had frozen all Scout Regiment activity outside the Walls… so if they're no longer supporting the Survey Corps' basic function, then it stands to reason that they're no longer supporting the Survey Corps at all," he concluded grimly.

Petra's eyes widened in rising anxiety. She understood now why Levi and his squad had turned away from her: beyond simply upholding their duty during a mission, they were on the run from the whole Military Police. And going to her side would have exposed them in the middle of a heavy presence of MPs handing out the King's rations and preserving order.

"How long… have I been sitting around like this?"

Mrs. Ral sighed, "Maybe an hour? Why?"

Petra gasped and got to her feet without hesitation, finding herself seemingly healthy enough to walk normally again, and possibly even run. Feeling emboldened at her rapid recovery, she rushed back out past the counter and unlocked the front door to her parents' renewed protests.

"What the hell happened around here?" an MP asked his comrades, seeming to have just rejoined the group.

"Oh, lucky you, missing the party. There were gunshots all over this part of town, I tell you," another one grumbled while helping dismantle the wooden stage.

A third MP sighed heavily and nodded. "Just the distraction we were hoping to avoid during a special event. Figures."

What? Petra thought to herself, thinking of her assailants brandishing guns that were attached to them like ODM gear. Guns… shooting who?

She pulled the cloak more securely around herself and glanced around to size up the disbursement of MPs in the general area. And she froze in renewed terror at the sight of more MPs laying bodies in a row in the middle of the street—just like the Scouts would do during expeditions. Her feet found themselves moving of their own accord towards the gruesome sight, unable to run from the answers she knew she needed.

And just as she feared she would, she recognized the bodies of her comrades laid out on the sidewalk: nearly every member of the Survey Corps Fourth Squad, save only for Moblit and their squad leader Hange. Even a certain redhead with sharply cut hair was there: her best friend in the Survey Corps, her gossip buddy, her partner in crime. And all that was left to identify Nifa with was her body: her face was destroyed by a shotgun blast, rendered a completely unrecognizable disarray of flesh. And Petra felt her baby churn restlessly inside her again as she felt her grief rising uncontrollably, stopping her breath in her lungs.

Nifa... I was a terrible friend. I was so wrapped up in romance that I forgot all about you. You told me to name my baby after you. But I couldn't even be bothered to stay in touch. I never wrote you a single letter…. I guess I never had it in my heart to miss you, too, the way I would miss him.

She clapped a shaky hand to her mouth as tears inevitably sprang to her eyes.

What must you have thought of me? How selfish have I been?

She began to ask herself which was a crueler fate: to die unexpectedly, far too young, like Nifa? Or to keep on living—to live to see everyone she held dear die brutal deaths and leave her ever emptier inside?

Why was it you and not me, Nifa? Aren't we the same? What makes me so special? I'm not special… I'm just another soldier. Just a Scout like the rest of you. No more invincible or deserving… if not for this baby.

She gazed down at her swollen belly, contemplating, ruminating.

This baby that makes me special. Special to humanity… special to him….

And as she stood there, quivering from head to foot as her guilt racked her body, she felt her world being torn apart and reassembling around her. She was in the shop again, confronted with the mysterious man and woman again. As they stared at her, they seemed to be ascertaining whether they could wrap up their visit—and surely enough, the man glanced aside to catch the woman's gaze, which was battle-hardened into pragmatism over emotion. Calculating. Ruthless.

"Captain," the woman nudged him. "You seem to be going soft on someone you went out of your way to find. Pregnant or not… she's still a Scout, too."

The man turned around in the middle of leaving to consider her words. Now his brow was furrowed, and his expression was darker: possessed with newfound, devilish intent.

"Levi's wife."

He pulled out his gun again now, letting his seeming penchant for the macabre overtake all sentimentality.

"His trusted confidante."

Petra turned to try to run, but the man reached out in an instant and grabbed her by the wrist across the countertop, immobilizing her. She gasped in terror now, knowing the inevitable outcome. The pencil next to her accounting ledger found its way into her other hand and she plunged it forward to try to stab through his neck while he was leaning into her. But alas, he was still faster, and he jerked his head away. Before her arm could recover from her stab, he ripped the pencil from her hand and elbowed her in the side of the head in one effortless swipe of his arm. She cried out in a delayed reaction as her head seared with pain. Flashes of light overtook her vision, and her legs grew weak.

"You're feisty," the man chuckled. "I'll give you that. Never met a ginger who wasn't."

Standing an arm's length behind Petra, Mrs. Ral screeched at him, "You leave her alone already! She's done nothing wrong!" Mr. Ral tightened his hands around his wife's shoulders with a glare to match hers.

The man shrugged. "Well, I hope not. Assuming she and her husband kept their lil' mouths shut around the folks at home…." He glanced at the Rals and broke into a maniacal grin, "we can minimize the suffering."

Mr. Ral insisted, "We don't know anything, and neither does she!"

"That's right!" Mrs. Ral added, nodding vigorously. "Captain Levi never talked about work in front of us."

But the man shook his head, unconvinced. "Nah, I'm guessing you two don't know… but she does."

The man turned back to Petra, still pinning her wrist down to the counter as she slumped over the countertop, only barely managing to hold her head up. She could feel her strength draining with every moment; she fought to even keep her eyes open and focused on the images in front of her. That woman over to his right stayed stock-still with her gun drawn. Such cold, brutal women were hard to come by, even in the military….

"Don't think you're special just 'cause of who knocked you up," the man admonished Petra, now lapsing into a lecture for his own amusement. "You're just like everybody else: out of all the things you could have chosen to live for, you chose to enslave yourself to love."

"Let go," she mumbled, tugging futilely against his grip. After getting hit in the head so hard, she could hardly find the energy to fight back anymore. She had always thought that the will to live would come from within, no matter how dire the situation. But now, that inner drive was gone. And it was all she could do to even keep holding her head up, let alone struggle or rage against her fate.

"I saw it in my sister, and I see it in you: that baby will kill you from the inside out, whether it's in your belly or not." His eyes narrowed more severely as he let himself momentarily get worked up over his frustration. "It's just a weak, helpless lump of meat, but you gave it all the power in the world over you—'cause you can't live without it."

Her eyes grew wider as the truth in his words stabbed like daggers into her.

"But anyway," he sighed, seeming to want to wrap things up at last. "While we're at it… I've always wanted to do this to a pregnant woman."

She wailed in renewed desperation as he pressed the muzzle of his gun against her belly.

"You know, I told my sister that that little runt shoulda never been born." The man nodded impassively at Petra, her body racked by exhausted sobbing. "I'm a generation too late, but hell. Better late than never."

And finally he pulled the trigger, shooting her point-blank. An eruption of flesh and fluid began to drain onto the floor in front of her: pieces of a tiny body thrown into disarray inside her swollen dome.

"I just wanted to see…" he chuckled, releasing his spent cartridge and reloading a new one from his thigh.

Thus, his right-hand woman looked on dispassionately while the man's eyes gleamed in curiosity fulfilled at last—thoroughly undisturbed with the gruesome act of human destruction he wrought with the simple pull of a trigger. Petra gave a half-strangled cry of agony and gripped her belly, but there was no stopping the blood and flesh from pouring out of the massive wound torn into her, bigger than both her hands put together—a tiny limb, a tiny foot, and so many more unnamed pieces and clumps of matter, all spilling out onto the floor past the dam of her useless hands in a waterfall of gore. The blood was unstoppable; her hands trembled from shock, thoroughly drenched in it. And she shuddered in horror at the gruesome sight of her own body falling apart in her hands.

"You monster…" she squeaked out as hot tears poured from her face; she seethed from the pain and the shock to her body so much that her head twitched uncontrollably. "My baby…." And she sank slowly to her knees, nodding to herself in cold acceptance as she prepared herself for the end. Now the other Nifa was no more; and in a matter of minutes, if not seconds, she would have to follow.

Did I do this to myself? the other Petra asked her from deep within her foggy mind. Do I want to die?

Dying by his deranged uncle's hand was as miserable an end as she could have concocted in her darkest nightmares—and she had somehow managed to find herself living it.

I thought I was building a dream for us. But I started to doubt myself. I didn't think I deserved it anymore….

The pair of murderers backed away out the door, their guns drawn on the Rals all the way. Her parents screamed helplessly for justice, with their wailing projecting into the street, alarming the passerby. Her father got to his feet and burst out the front door in the hopes of wrangling someone—anyone—to help his dying daughter. And yet despite the racket, not a single Military Police officer nor average citizen peeped their head in to see what had happened.

Nobody except Captain Levi, who burst into the shop for the first time ever to see everything gone wrong. He saw her lying on the floor behind the counter and bolted over to her, with her father close behind. Her mother gasped in renewed horror as her daughter's husband swooped in, sinking to his knees next to them to better behold the nightmarish scene.

At first he approached her state with a clinical focus, checking her pulse, her breathing, and her pupil dilation with impressively steady hands.

"Who did this to you?" Levi's voice came out gutturally low, quivering with rage despite his seemingly calm movements.

I can't live without it, Petra thought to herself in her delirium. It can't live without me… we need each other. Don't we?

She heard a voice in her head that sounded like her, but was not hers, breezing in like a casual, implicitly invited guest, taunting her:

You're not that special. Without Captain Levi's baby, you're just another soldier—another ordinary woman….

"Petra!" He shook her by the shoulders. "Who did this?"

She grinned hazily up at him, unable to dispense with the irony even as she lay dying.

"I know they say you—marry their family, too, but—I didn't sign up—for your crazy uncle," she half-chuckled, half-sobbed.

His eyes grew wide, then narrowed in renewed fury. "Uncle?"

Her father leaned over Levi and blurted out the details to spare her breath: "Tall guy, thin beard, middle-aged but still fit... gray eyes like yours."

Levi was thunderstruck to recognize the description. "That sounds like Kenny. But I didn't know he was… my uncle."

At that moment, the shop door swung open again. Levi turned his head, feeling her presence before he saw her: Mikasa.

"Mikasa," he muttered, his eyes widening as their eyes met. She gasped as she took in the violent crime scene, suddenly beset with uncertainty of what to say or do. But in that moment, she saw everything she needed to understand: her Captain who had forsaken his duty to their mission to fulfill his duty of love. And she could not blame him one bit.

His words no longer felt entirely his, but they tumbled out of his mouth anyway from some far-off place deep in his subconscious. "Dammit, Petra! I'm tired of losing you. I'm tired of living without you…."

He gave her shoulders a rough, snapping shake; her head flopped forward onto her chin, then back.

"Petra! God dammit!" He yelled at her now. "You said that nobody dies! In your stupid fairy tale!" And when she did not respond and her eyes remained closed, his voice grew quiet, breaking as he began to cry silently into the side of her hair—tears of rage that turned to tears of bitterness.

How did this happen? This wasn't supposed to happen…. How did nothing change? How could I still have failed to keep her safe?

He touched his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. The remnants of tears clung to his eyelashes, lingering and dripping onto her head. And he heard her voice murmur in his head:

It was all just a dream… but dreams are worth it… even if they can never be.

Levi asked her inside his head, Why would you do this to yourself? And he took a pause, pressing his forehead even more tightly against hers to help him contain his anguish. Why would you do this to me?

He heard her voice respond: Better me than you... I know I'm not that special to humanity...

I don't care if you're special to humanity. You're special to me.

She sighed and whispered in her heartbreakingly lovely voice, Sometimes I wonder like this... if the pain of dying is better or worse than the pain of living. Now I've done it both ways: I've lived, and then died. But you never die. So you wouldn't know. At least, not yet.

He shook his head in resignation. You're right: I can't. I'm a dumb piece of shit who doesn't know how to die.

Why not?

Levi took a deep, shuddering breath, nodding to himself.

Because something inside me tells me to keep on living—even if I don't know why anymore. I'm not allowed to just give up and die. And that's all I know.

Levi felt the sudden emptiness of a silent vacuum of air all around him. He opened his eyes to find himself still cradling Petra's head in his lap; he sat in an endless, sandy plain with an enormous tree of pure, white light growing from the ground.

"Where is this?" he said aloud.

And in the deep recesses inside his head, he heard himself think, Is this... the Paths?

And indeed, they were now in the otherworldly realm in its pure manifestation, where all lives and timelines originated from a single Coordinate: the brilliantly glowing trunk of the tree from where innumerable branches forked and multiplied.

Petra opened her eyes slowly and looked down to see her naked, pink unborn baby lying curled up in the sand, still tethered to her by its umbilical cord snaking into the open wound in her abdomen. The baby passed back into her open belly, which then closed itself around the baby, entombing it inside her, followed by the fabric of her dress effortlessly mending itself. Thus, she learned that death was merely the start of a new, eternal existence—one that was defined by the time they had spent alive, and the people they had spent it with. And she was sentenced to be an eternal mother to the child in her womb who was destined to sleep forever. She looked up at Levi, holding her in his arms, and she sat up with deliberation to realize that she no longer felt any pain.

"Where… are we?"

Levi gazed into Petra's eyes, open once more and shimmering with the reflection of the light from the glowing tree. Then he flicked his gaze across from him to Mikasa kneeling in the sand, too. And all it took him was a momentary glimpse into Mikasa's eyes, mysterious gray like the depths of murky water, and he could see that she knew, too—that she could see every layer of the dream, just like he and Petra could.

They surveyed the area and saw that standing near the three of them were other versions of themselves, looking in on them: they looked very much like them, but they were different people nonetheless. A Levi wearing the same loose-fitting shirt and day pants under ODM gear, sitting on a wooden crate; and a Levi wearing the green Survey Corps cloak over the brown jacket, ODM gear whose snap blade sheaths hung vertically instead of horizontally, and black pants instead of white, kneeling in the sand. A Petra wearing the same dress and cardigan, standing upright with a canvas bag slung over her shoulder; and a Petra kneeling in the sand with the same green Survey Corps cloak and outfit as the third Levi. And lastly, a teenage Mikasa with a white shirt, red scarf, and ODM gear, standing ramrod straight; and an adult Mikasa with a similar white shirt, but conspicuously no scarf, leaning her hands over a desk.

And diverting their attention away from their other selves watching them came a young girl with shoulder-length blonde hair with a ragged cloth for a headband and tatters for a dress, tottering under the weight of a full bucket of water.

The Levi in the green cloak walked over to the girl and reached for the bucket handle to help her.

Ymir, he started to say to her. You made Petra a new body out of nothing. Is it possible—could you save her again?

The girl shook her head impassively. And she upturned her face to him and he could just make out her eyes peeping out from underneath her bangs: part amber and part gray in alternating streaks, radiating outward from the depths of her pupils.

No. This Petra wanted to die. I cannot interfere.

And she pointed to a spot in the sand for him to place the bucket, where he dutifully set it down. Ymir sank down to sit on her feet, musing to herself as her fingers threaded the grains of sand, letting them fall between her fingers like solid flecks of water droplets.

She had her chance at happiness, but she did not feel deserving. The same for you back then, when she died under your command. You never told her how you felt, until it was too late.

He nodded in pained admission of her words.

You did not think you deserved any happiness with her until your far-off dream of a world without Titans… and whatever you do not think you deserve, you can never get.

And she left it at that, reaching her hands over to pour some water from the bucket onto the sand before her. And from the mud, she began to form something small and round, no bigger than his fist. She silently continued to shape her tiny creation, then another, then another. When she was finally finished, she stood up and beamed radiantly at Petra in her green cloak, who smiled down at her with a spark of interest in her eyes.

"What's this?" Petra asked. "What did you make?"

Ymir turned again to behold the literal fruits of her creation: an apple, a pear, and a pomegranate.

I am a slave. And slaves must know the seasons of every fruit we harvest. For our whole lives—even after our lives—we wait. All I know is waiting… all I know what to be is a slave.

With her hand, Ymir beckoned to the oldest Mikasa to join them. As she took a step, Mikasa reached for her neck out of habit, only to grasp at nothing—her scarf was already gone. And the boy who had given it to her—the object she had clung to for comfort for so many years—all were gone, leaving only her, and whatever she chose to make of herself without them.

In your world, Ymir continued, it is late fall. The season of some are ending—she handed Levi the apple and Petra the pear—and for others, it is only the beginning. And she handed Mikasa the pomegranate.

Mikasa's eyes grew wide as she stared at the weighty, blood-red fruit in her hands. Her eyes traced along the contours of its skin as she freshly recalled the last time she had seen a fruit like this—the first time she had glimpsed another reality. She clutched around the fruit with her fingernails, tearing it in half. Its insides looked just as she remembered: an explosion of vibrant red, teardrop jewels in the white cushion of its womb, where they glinted in the light of the massive tree behind them.

I remember feeling as if I had just seen a really long dream. A joyful, but sad dream. And when I opened my eyes, I had accepted what happened to Eren as a solemn truth…. And only then did he come back—in the body of a Titan.

The three of them stared at each other—three dreamers within a dream, through which they could see everything and foresee nothing. The only way forward was to somehow keep on living, and see for themselves how it would all turn out.

Eren always dies. And maybe, so does Petra. It's just a matter of time… and the path we take to get there.

Levi and Mikasa found themselves in the Rals' shop again, kneeling on either side of Petra's body, heartbroken and silent as they stared in vain at her face for the last time. The Rals were sitting on the floor, cradling her head in their hands and still sobbing uncontrollably. Levi reached over for the ring on Petra's finger, and, with a deadened glance upward at Mikasa, then at the Rals, he loosened the ring and slipped it into his pants pocket. Mikasa nodded in tacit acknowledgment and got to her feet, soon followed by Levi.

"I'm gonna kill the bastards," Levi concluded, his voice icy. "And I'll come back when it's safe."

Mr. Ral's voice suddenly rang out from where he sat, cuttingly authoritative: "Levi."

Levi turned to look at him, half-registering that this was the first time that either of her parents had called him by his name.

"Keep your head on straight," he commanded Levi, his stare intense. His voice shook a little with the fury of their loss, but his words were clear: no longer a deference in respect to a military officer, but a father's order now. "We're not losing you, too. You got that?"

Levi nodded gravely down at him.

"Understood."

Petra's parents halfheartedly reached out for him as he turned with a swish of his cloak and left their side, imbued with heavy purpose in each fleeting step. He turned his head briefly to lock eyes with Mikasa, his murderous intent showing plainly in his eyes, flashing red at her—an intensity she had only seen in him once before, in a hazy, far-off dream. From that one glance, she saw the eyes of a demon driven onward only by a thirst for vengeance.

"Continue the mission."

Mikasa balked and clicked her trigger handles to insert the next set of blades. "Mission? It's all damage control now. Whoever the enemy is, they're already here."

"Then we cut them down until there's no one left but us."

And he let himself out the door with an unrestrained shove, letting it slam shut when Mikasa did not follow him. Mikasa closed her eyes tightly for a long moment, fighting down the pounding pain of her headache and summoning the courage within to keep on moving, too—to banish from her mind the image of Petra and her baby lying destroyed in their own blood, forever doomed to their shared fate. And she thought to herself as she pushed on past the door into the sunlight:

Is this what love looks like? To forsake your duty to be with the one you love?

To be fair, how many times had she done the very same thing—impulsively chasing after Eren, orders be damned? But it had always been Captain Levi reining her in, reminding her to keep her own head on straight and focus on the mission and the lives of their comrades. Today was the exception—when he finally lost everything most dear to him and could not bear the sacrifice. And now was the time for her to be by his side in his duty of vengeance.

We can't lose him out there, too, she decided, pulling out her blades and hugging the wall to take cover under the eaves of the buildings. With him in this state, he'll need all the help he can get.

Levi had lost his family once again. And he had never felt more alone after having had everything he had ever dared to dream of and having lost everything just as quickly. Erwin was right: this was his sacrifice owed, and finally paid.

Some way or other, he tracked down and cornered the culprit: Kenny the Ripper, his former guardian, the man who raised him from a child to a teenager, hunkered down on a rooftop behind the cover of a brick chimney. His words washed over Levi in a hazy, half-processed garble of sound—a cacophony of preachy wisdom from an elder who clearly did not have his best interests at heart. And he was not going to tolerate it any longer.

"Why do you yammer on about 'living' so much when all you ever taught me about was just 'surviving'?"

Kenny's words twisted playfully around his tongue; he relished every opportunity to impart his wisdom to people right before he killed them. "It's easy to teach survival. But ya can't teach living; you gotta figure that part out for yourself."

Levi hardened his gaze. "I had someone who taught me how to live." He clenched his fist in gathering resolution. "And you killed her."

He locked his trigger handles into a new set of blades.

"So now I'm gonna tear you to pieces. Like what you did to her."

Kenny scoffed. "She died 'cause she wasn't strong enough. She was simply overpowered by someone stronger. And even though that might sound cruel to you…" he gave a disinterested shrug to himself, "that's just how the world is."

"No," Levi insisted, his voice cold. "That's just how you are: a cruel, heartless bastard who deserves to die in the worst way possible."

"Well, I'm hurt. That's no way to thank the guy who raised you, is it?"

Levi felt the white-hot rage gathering in his body—focusing him and sharpening his senses to their limits. As far as he was concerned now, Kenny cared for no one, not even for him. And his grief surged like lightning through every fiber of his being, imbuing him with a monstrous power that Kenny could never know.

"You raised me just long enough to leave me. And compared to what you took from me today… I owe you nothing."

And Levi flung his cloak out ahead of him as a distraction, then leapt out from his own hiding place with his blades drawn, ready to exact his revenge. Kenny blasted through Levi's cloak and raised the muzzle of his other gun squarely at Levi, but he had not accounted for the other demon from behind: Mikasa shooting in on her wires to deliver her vengeance on her Captain's behalf—for the kindhearted young woman in Trost who felt it had been her duty to guide Mikasa and give her all the firepower she could spare, just for seeing a little bit of herself in her. This, now, was Mikasa and Levi's revenge. And cold-blooded revenge was their specialty.

"Well, now this is interesting!" Kenny chortled as he shot his own wires over to evade her. He would not go down easy even being one against two—but neither would they.

The MPs laid the bodies out on the sidewalk, shaking their heads at the gruesome task: there lay Kenny the Ripper, chopped into pieces with his entrails spilling out, and his right-hand woman next to him. Every dead body of this special squad had been slashed into a jumble of limbs and bisected torsos, and some were even beheaded or had their head split down the middle for good measure.

But the Survey Corps took no pleasure in the sight from where they perched in hiding, crammed spread out among the tops of two nearby bell towers. The body double mission had succeeded because they took out all opposition, but it felt as if there was still nothing to be proud of—nothing to celebrate. Over on the far end of the row of bodies, slightly separate from the rest, was a tiny body with a large, protruding abdomen, covered by a white sheet soaked through with blood. And Levi and Mikasa sat numbly with their empty blade sheaths, too devastated to find any more tears to shed, while Nifa hugged her knees to her chest and let her tears pour down her cheeks with every fresh sob.

"I wish it had been me," she admitted with a gasp. "At least I had no one else to live for..."

"Shut up." Levi glared at her with a fervor unmatched by any she had ever seen from him. "None of us should have had to die today. Not you, and not her."

And Levi gazed around at each of them in turn: his former 104th Cadets, save for Eren, Historia, and the rest of Hange's section guarding them.

"Don't anybody here tell themselves that they're not worthy of living." His eyes lingered on Armin's face; the boy looked away uncomfortably. "Everyone deserves to live. Even people with no families." And he shut his eyes to shield his own pain from them when he fully realized now that he was another one of those lonely orphans once again.

"Family…" Sasha mumbled, rumpling her hair absentmindedly with her hand. But she suddenly straightened up and gazed around at her companions, affecting a nervous smile. "Aren't we all family here, too? The Survey Corps is everybody's family."

Conny, Jean, Armin, and Mikasa glanced among themselves; Conny nudged Sasha on the shoulder and grinned back. And Levi and Nifa eyed Sasha for a few heartbeats, then each looked away back out the bell tower—Levi to the streets down below, and Nifa up to the sky.

I guess the brat is right, Levi admitted to himself. Every time I've lost someone in the Scouts, that's how it felt: like losing a sibling. A family member.

"She was like my sister," Nifa half-whispered, blotting away more tears from the corners of her eyes.

"Like an older sister," Mikasa added soberly. "Or even… a mother."

Levi closed his eyes again. "That squad led by Kenny… they had a kill order on all of us. Any Scout they found. And Petra… she's a Scout, too." He gave a single nod. "She was one of us. All the way till the end."

"We'll remember," Mikasa assured him, gazing around the tiny enclosure at everyone. "Won't we."

Levi and the Rals arrived at the burial site in the military cemetery early in the morning before anyone else, bearing a bouquet of blue and white roses and edelweiss. And yet, there was already an offering left on the stone ledge in front of Petra's gravestone: a lone, ripe yellowish-green pear, standing sentinel over the freshly buried hole in the ground next to her coffin. All three of them glanced at each other uneasily, unsure of who her daybreak visitor was.

The guests trickled in slowly: the families of the rest of the original Special Operations Squad. Other Survey Corps soldiers and their families, too. Levi's current squad, their faces somber and ashen. Hange and their section. Commander Erwin. A handful of women from the military families support group, sniffling amongst themselves in the back.

Mr. Berner slipped over to the Rals and passed two painted portraits to them, in twin wooden frames joined by a metal hinge: one of Petra on the left, and Levi on the right. Petra wore the orange dress with shoulder straps, silver earrings, and green necklace that she had worn on their wedding day. And Levi wore the black dress shirt that Petra had once picked out for him for how well it suited him. Mr. Berner had even managed to paint the faintest whisper of a smile upon the corners of his lips, despite his catatonic affect on the day he had briefly posed for him. It seemed that Mr. Berner had seen that there was always the potential for a smile inside him, even when he could not seem to find it inside himself.

"I think they came out well," Mr. Berner murmured solemnly.

"And Captain Levi, this one's for you."

He passed a single, small portrait of Petra to Levi's open palms. She sat proudly in her brown Scout uniform jacket, a white button-down shirt, and ODM gear straps, just as she would comport herself in life as a member of Levi Squad. Levi stared at it, and into her warm, amber eyes. Even though it was just a portrait, he could have sworn that she looked alive again.

"They're perfect," Mr. Ral sighed. "We can't thank you enough."

"Looks just like her," Levi said—the highest compliment one could hope to get from him. He got lost for a few long moments, gazing at her image. She held a hint of a smile playing on her lovely lips, as if she were amusing herself with some secret thought—perhaps about him. "How much do we owe you?"

"It's on the house," Mr. Berner insisted, shaking his head. "I'd never dream of charging for this."

When the ceremony was done and all remembrances spoken, Levi placed the flower bouquet on top of the freshly piled mound of dirt on her coffin, positioning it just so. He imagined her hands clasped on top of her belly, holding the flower stems between them, and the blooms just close enough to her face that she could smell their sweet aroma. The guests drifted off, leaving just Levi and the Rals alone once more. And they gazed down at her gravestone for the last time that day, their hearts poured dry of intensity. All that was left was the gentle, comforting nostalgia of the memories of her, joining them together.

Mr. Ral laid a hand on Levi's shoulder.

"Remember, Levi: we're your parents, too. For as long as you want us to be."

And Levi nodded absentmindedly.

"Thank you. Mr. Ral. Mrs. Ral."

When Petra was still alive, Levi would see her in his mind's eye when he sat awake at his desk at night, smiling at him while she served him tea; or he would see her sleeping in his bed when he glanced over at the vacant pillow, resting peacefully until he could slip in under the covers next to her.

But after her death, he saw her everywhere: trotting next to him while holding her rounded belly, the skirt of her dress fluttering as she walked dutifully in tandem with him. When he stopped, she would gaze expectantly at him, smiling silently, as if listening intently to his words that only she could hear.

Are you a ghost now, Petra? he would sometimes think to her. You can rest now. You don't need to follow me everywhere like this…. You don't owe me anything; you're not duty-bound to me for anything.

But she would only shake her head and slowly fade away, the golden chain around her neck being the last thing to twinkle in the sunlight before finally evaporating.

After Levi stopped by the Rals' house to raid Petra's closet for her near-empty gas canisters—the ones she had gotten from Mikasa in exchange for hers—he paid a visit to a military chemist who deigned to accept his unusual request.

"Are—Are you sure about this?" the chemist stammered, glancing down at the ring in his rubber-gloved hand. "Do you realize how much this thing is worth?"

Levi gave a taciturn nod. "This ring is cursed. And I wouldn't wish it upon anyone else."

"I see," the man sighed, dabbing at the beads of nervous sweat on his hairline with the back of his free hand. "And that's why you're burning it down like any other common rock, I guess."

He hoisted the ring of Iceburst Stone to eye level to admire it in the lamplight.

"Such a shame. It's beautiful."

Levi smiled mournfully, feeling his composure waver. "She was beautiful." And he turned his head away to better bear the pain.

Maybe naïve dreams are worth it to you, Petra. But nightmares aren't. Not to me.

"I hope you realize that this amount of stone won't convert into that much gas." The chemist nodded to him. "Again, it's worth far more in its current form."

Levi glanced down on either side of him, unclasping the gas canisters from where they rested on top of his blade sheaths.

"As long as there's always a little left in the canister, it'll mix in with the new gas I add in, won't it?"

And the chemist heaved a sigh of sympathy.

"Symbolically speaking, yes."

Levi glanced away from the man again, emotionally detaching again to save himself—to buoy himself up with hope instead of sinking into the mire of despair.

"Then that's what I'll choose to believe."

The chemist nodded a final time, and with a small metal pliers, he deftly extricated the stone from the clutches of the metal claws that held it, and he placed it in a pressurizing chamber to work his alchemy. Levi watched, transfixed by the process of vaporizing a vivid, glowing blue rock into a near-invisible, colorless gas in a glass tube: the same color as the air they breathed, fated to sit inert in a metal canister until called upon to propel him forward. The path towards that world without Titans held much more blood and death. And he swore to face it all, killing as many Titans and people as necessary to reach that worthy goal. And at the end of it all, once they had finally won, they would finally win their freedom. If freedom was a cause that so many others were still willing to die for, then it was a worthy cause to keep on living for.

Levi was Petra's lone visitor on the day before her birthday. He suspected that her parents would come tomorrow. He planned to be there, too, but he wanted some time alone with her today—her first birthday without him since they had first met. If she had lived, they would have celebrated her special day at her parents' house, the whole family together. But it was not meant to be—it had all been just another dream.

So, on the level ledge protruding from the front of her gravestone, he set up his portrait of her, lit a white candle in a small jar, and set two cups of black tea: one for each of them. And he put his tea thermos away in his bag and he sat down on the seat of his long-hemmed green military jacket next to where her body lay under the snow.

I know you said you didn't think you were that special. But you were special. Special to me.

He nodded to himself and slowly closed his eyes. With the visual distractions of the outside world shut out, he swore he could feel her presence there with him: the warmth of a tiny candle glowing inside him, much like the single white candle that burned for her next to her portrait.

All this time, I thought you were my reason for living. But it turns out… you already taught me how to find my own reasons inside myself.

And with a quiet sigh, he leaned down to pick up one of the teacups and toasted it in the air. He spoke aloud now; his voice came out low, only loud enough for her to hear:

"I'm sorry I was an asshole—about the tea. But now you can have your own cup."

He squeezed his eyes again to help wrestle down the guilt trickling in again.

"You can have as much as you want."

He almost started to cry but stopped himself by taking a deep breath. And then he finally let himself cry silently, letting his tears cling to his cheeks and grow cold in the frigid air.

Maybe in another life—if we had another chance somehow—we could have both survived. And we could have been happy together. Had our baby together. But all I have is this—and the time we spent together that led us to this. But... if I can at least know that there were more good things—even if I'll never be the one to live them—then maybe that can be enough.

He set down his empty teacup in front of her gravestone and traded it for hers, still full nearly to the brim. The tea had clearly gone cold but other than the lack of steam wafting up from the surface, it still looked just like it did since he had poured it.

We gave it our all for each other. For as long as we got. And at least, here at the end, there's nothing to regret. But even so...

He spoke aloud once more: "The only thing I could regret is… I wish I could have saved you."

And he tipped the teacup to gently pour its contents on top of her resting place. The best thing that had ever come across his path in life had slipped through his fingers just as easily. Chances, special moments, time itself—all coming and going like the dozens of people living and dying all around him. And while some people passed into the space of half-remembrance—just a face, or just a name—Petra lingered vividly there, never letting go. No, more like he would never let go of the memory of her: his first and eternal love.

Through the lightening veil of their shared daydream, Petra saw Levi crouched down on his knees with his head bowed low. He was in his Scout uniform and cloak, as was she—they were in the Forest, and also far beyond the confines of simply one place and time. And although she could not see his face behind his bangs, his shoulders shook with the intensity of his emotion.

"Why would you put us both through that if that's the way it was going to end?"

Her voice came out falteringly: "That's not how I wanted it to end. It's not over... I don't want it to be over."

His voice was dark and low. "Destroy the timeline where you died. It never should have happened."

She pursed her lips uneasily. "Because I created it, I can destroy it?"

"I'm not living without you again. You never died. I never abandoned my mission to watch you die." He paused in deliberation. "And Mikasa never saw what she saw… if she can just manage to forget."

She nodded to herself slowly, gathering her resolve. "They never happened... erase them all... it was all just another dream..."

And he gave a single nod in return. "Take us back to the timeline where you survive, no matter what. And take us to the end. The ending we both want."

And she closed her eyes, squeezing them shut in concentration to focus through the ongoing throbbing in her head.

"I will."

Petra understood it all now: if she chose to surrender herself to death, then she would only leave Levi alone again, vulnerable to resurrect his inner monster in a moment of weakened resolve. So, she chose to share with him the pain of living once more, carrying on through agonizing losses until they were the only ones left standing. While she did not doubt that he could carry on without her, she was sure that the journey would be easier with her by his side.

While standing in front of the row of bodies on the sidewalk, Petra felt the world in her mind's eye fading away into whisps of vapor in the air: she had never died, so her body and gravestone were gone. Her parents had never watched her die, so they were gone, too. Levi and Mikasa disappeared, surrendering their bodies to the ether where their minds floated adrift. And the memories still left in Petra's head began to shift and melt into events she had never seen, and things that had never happened—at least, not to her: Levi standing next to a row of painfully familiar-looking corpses wrapped in cloth, kneeling next to a body just her size and peeling the Survey Corps badge from its chest, and the same bodies being dumped from the supply wagon as Levi could do nothing but watch as he rode away on his horse. Memories from another Petra—from another version of reality, but not hers.

And as she contemplated through her burning tears, the memories flooded through her mind, threatening to overwhelm her sanity.

No. It can't end like this again. There has to be more. There has to be something better after all this death...

Why did adults tell themselves fairy tales? Because despite the overwhelming hopelessness, there was still hope for better days—for a happy ending. And whenever things were as bleak as they could possibly get, there was nowhere left to go but up.

Out of the corner of her eye stood a young MP, impossibly young and bright-eyed that she could have sworn she had seen around somewhere not too long ago. His curly black hair was ruffled by a subtle breeze as his eyes migrated from his notepad and pencil to the scene before him—and at her standing there. They locked eyes for a moment, and she felt an electric surge inside her and suddenly knew what she had to do...

I'm a Scout, too, they said. Just like everyone those people killed... Not only that, but I'm Captain Levi's wife. And if they're after him, then I'll be next.

She glanced down at the strap of the canvas bag still hanging from her shoulder, still holding what was left of the King's rations. She had everything she needed right here. All she needed was a good moment to slip away unseen….

The young man tilted his head down. He gazed expectantly at her out of the corners of his eyes before closing them for a long moment. And she could scarcely believe it, but he gave a tiny jerk of his head as if to tell her to get lost, while he was resting his eyes. So she seized the opportunity and hurried off silently into the nearest side street. When the man opened his eyes again, she was gone. But, knowing his duty, he frowned to himself in renewed resolve and added his finishing touches on his drawing of her. Next to her head, he drew arrows pointing to her eyes and chin-length hair and wrote the words "amber eyes" and "strawberry blonde."

Stowed away in the back of a grocery supply wagon heading north into Wall Rose, she drew the hood of her cloak more tightly over her head and pressed herself against an empty food barrel behind her to avoid being smacked by it as the wagon contents jostled with the terrain. And even though it racked her with guilt, she had not gone back to her parents. While she vaguely worried about them, she knew that she should be most worried about herself.

I'm sorry, Mother. I wish that this were all just a dream—just a nightmare. But it's not. This is reality. And I know you and Father mean well, and you're doing your best… but you can't save me. And neither can Levi. So I'm going to save myself.

She removed the ring from her finger, noting a dried droplet of blood still clinging to the juncture where stone joined metal. A droplet of blood of Levi's blood family—family that she didn't even know existed until today. She thought that she had married a man without a family, but with secrets to fill the void. And now she had learned that he had a little bit of both.

No matter what other secrets he may have… I love him. And I don't need to wear his ring to prove it. But….

The chain necklace still hung from her neck, seemingly unnaturally light and bare without the ring for which it was intended. She didn't need to wear the necklace either, it was true. But she couldn't think of anywhere else to put it that would be safer than around her neck. It simply did not belong anywhere else.

So she took a deep breath and closed her eyes to help her focus better on removing the clasp at the nape of her neck. And with a nod of renewed resolve, she strung the ring back on its chain and secured it back around her neck safely where it belonged.

I'll keep on wearing the ring, and the chain—because I'm choosing to do it. Nobody forced me into anything. He's the last person who would force me to love him…. And that's why I do.

Notes:

Aww shiiit this chapter was sad for me, too! Remember when "putting gas in the tank" used to be funny instead of tragic?

You may have picked up some parallels and references made to previous chapters. If you can't quite remember which ones in particular, I suggest starting with Ch 1: Regrets, Ch 2; Hope and Duty; and Ch 6: Children of Winter.

Author Note 1: AOT loves its trios, and now we have a new one made for traveling through the Paths: Levi, Mikasa, and Petra (our honorary Ackerman/Ackerman by marriage). In a bit of subversion, however, this trio is two girls and one boy, whereas all the other/canon trios are two boys and one girl (except for genderqueer Hange in the Erwin-Levi-Hange trio). Make of that what you will!

Author Note 2: Fruit seasons
Levi - apples are moving out of season in late fall/autumn; no longer being sold in the Rals' shop
Petra - pears are in season (but moving out of season); currently being sold in the Rals' shop
Mikasa - pomegranates are in season moving into winter

Author Note 3: I wrote the scene of Levi and Mikasa facing off against Kenny to be like an inversion of Levi and Mikasa facing off against the Female Titan. Granted, both scenes happened after Petra dying at the hand of their shared opponent. But this time, Levi is the one who is emotionally destroyed at having lost his lover, not Mikasa losing Eren to the Female Titan. And Levi is the one distracting the opponent while Mikasa flies in from behind, whereas it was the other way around against the Female Titan.

Author Note 4: The Iceburst Stone ring has had two intended recipients: Astrid and Petra. The name Astrid means "divinely beautiful", and the name Petra means "stone", which I thought were fitting for the names of the two people to wear a ring of glowing stone.

Chapter 22: Hunted

Summary:

Petra goes on the run from the Military Police by hiding in plain sight. Levi fulfills his duties as a Scout but gets an unwelcome reception in return.

Notes:

At long last, I am finally back with another chapter. Thank you all for waiting patiently, and I hope you enjoy! (And don't worry, this chapter isn't quite as sad as the previous one.) We are heading steadily towards that Rivetra baby, and we are returning to the Forest in two or three more chapters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Cuddle" – Motoi Sakuraba (Star Ocean: The Second Story OST)

The wagon trembled as it rolled over the cobblestones exiting Trost District via the Northern Gate, then the journey got easier as the road transitioned to unpaved dirt. As the path smoothed out and the jostling of the empty food barrels around her ceased, Petra sighed in relief, closed her eyes, and pressed the back of her head against the wooden frame of the wagon ribs. The straps of the canvas food bag drooped down her shoulder and lingered around her elbow.

What the hell happened to me? I got beat up… Levi saw me, but he didn't stop… then I saw Nifa's body… and then I died…. But then I came back. Because one version of me wanted to die, but another one didn't.

And though it was exquisitely tempting to surrender herself to desolation, she knew that she could not. She felt so numb with grief that she found that she had no more tears left to shed. Instead, she was overcome with a merciful blankness in her head as she processed everything in the background of her mind, no longer forming thoughts into words, but letting them sift through like sand in an hourglass draining down into the bottom. Someday soon, when her world would hopefully right itself again, her hourglass of emotion would flip upside down, and she would revisit everything that she was filing away for later. But right now, all she had the energy left to do was think of the next step to take, and the next, and the next.

After several hours, the wagon stopped again, and she heard another winching of metal and felt a brief tremor of the earth beneath them: another Gate was opening now, the Southern Gate to Ehrmich District.

Just as I thought: this wagon was most likely a supply wagon for the King's food reserves. If I ride it far enough towards the Interior, I'll end up all the way in Mitras. But should I?

She shook her head to herself and dragged her hand down on the top of her hood to hold it in place.

No. Better that I find some way to get out before that, while I'm still in another city. If I wait all the way until the ultimate destination, I'm more likely to get caught if I miscalculate when they will unload. Assuming I'm even correct at all, and they even intend to keep on going past Ehrmich.

She carefully made her way to the back of the wagon and peeped out from behind the cover of the canvas flap. The cobblestones rushed by beneath her, but she could tell that they were slowing down as the buildings grew in more densely on either side of the wagon.

Shit. If I don't time this correctly and I get injured….

She glanced down and frowned nervously at her belly, then shook her head to dispel her worry.

No, that's not helpful at all. I can do this. If I can still jog along the river every morning with this belly, then I can make one jump….

And before the wagon driver could stop the vehicle to notice Petra stowing away, she had already slipped out the back of the wagon and into the alleyway, bending her legs to absorb the impact on the ground. She bent over for a brief moment to rest her hands on her thighs, silently relieved at landing safely, then she righted herself and started to walk towards the sidewalk of the main road with an air of newfound purpose.

Not far from Petra's drop-off location stood a cozy bed-and-breakfast inn just one side street away from the main thoroughfare, where she sidled up to the front door, still wearing the cloak and hood. She shoved her glowing ring under the neckline of her dress and closed her eyes for a moment to try to think of a backstory for herself, but the door creaked and started to swing open onto her before she was ready. She jerked her eyes back open and backed away to avoid getting nudged backward by the door, finding herself face to face with a kindly, middle-aged woman with graying, light brown hair in a bun.

"I saw the little window in the door grow dark, so I figured we had a visitor," the woman explained. She wiped her hands on the front of her flower-embroidered apron and looked expectantly at Petra. "How can I help you?"

"Um," Petra stammered. "I need a place to stay. But… I don't have much to offer." She pulled a few folded-up bills of cash from the pocket of her dress, and she slid the canvas bag down from her shoulder and opened it to reveal what was left of the rations. "I just have some pocket money, and some cheese and dried apples. If that can help pay for anything…."

The woman sighed and propped her hands on her hips. She eyed Petra's neck warily, no doubt spotting the bruises. Petra pursed her lips anxiously and pulled her hood more tightly around her neck.

"You show up before sunset with just the clothes on your back, looking for a place to stay, hiding under a cloak on account of your bruises." And the woman wrung her hands together, her expression grave. "Was it—a 'family matter'?"

She nodded listlessly, not daring to look the woman in the eyes. And although she knew how terrible it made her husband sound, she knew that she could not deny it because she had no better explanation. And in fact, there was an element of truth to it: Levi's uncle was, in fact, his family, and by extension, hers….

And the woman eyed her with pity, nodding solemnly. "I understand, sweetie. You technically have just enough money to cover one night's stay, but… you keep it for something else. How about you help out in the kitchen for breakfasts and dinners for now?" She paused, looking Petra up and down with an uneasy glance. "Can you make your way around a kitchen?"

Petra nodded eagerly, mustering enough courage to peek up at the woman's face. "Yes, of course! Thank you. Thank you so much…."

The woman sighed. "You can thank my husband when he gets a load of you. A pretty young thing like you, all battered and miserable?" And she shook her head. "Here, let's go to the kitchen. Dinner is served in about an hour already. My husband's out on the balcony hanging the bedsheets to dry, but he'll be back in later."

Petra nodded again, more subdued this time, and dutifully trotted after the woman.

In the tiny kitchen, a fit, leanly athletic young man, perhaps about her age, stood cutting potatoes into cubes and scraping them off the cutting board into a large metal pot next to him on the stovetop. His crop of wavy brown hair hugged around his face, falling down over the tops of his earlobes. As he looked up to behold their new helper with cautious surprise, he initially gave a tilt of his head in burgeoning interest when he saw her face, but then when he noticed the bruises on her neck and her obviously pregnant belly, his expression morphed into disapproval.

"Felix, this is…." The woman turned to Petra. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Angelika," Petra blurted out, then nodded to affirm herself.

My horse's name? I guess that'll do…. I sure had better not tell them my real name, at any rate….

"Angelika, then," the woman said. "I'm Mrs. Wagner, and this is my son, Felix."

"I'm guessing it was a man that choked you," Felix muttered, turning back to his task with a disgusted shake of his head. "Those were big hands, covering your whole neck like that."

"And that's why she'll be staying with us for now," the woman concluded.

Felix set his knife and cutting board aside and reached for a bucket to add water to the pot of potatoes. "Good thing you got away from him."

He turned his head slightly to get another clearer look at her, seeming to linger on her face.

"You deserve better," he said, more quietly now.

Petra felt her face start to grow warm under his intermittent glances, so she cleared her throat and made her way over to the firewood bin in the corner of the room. "May I?"

Mrs. Wagner and her son stood blinking, unsure of what exactly to have her start with.

"I guess I'll take that as a yes," Petra decided, helping herself to a handful of sticks and swinging open the door to the stove.

"You do know what you're doing, right?" Felix asked Petra with an uneasy glance at his mother, but she waved her hand at him.

"Shh," Mrs. Wagner said. "Let's see how she does."

Indeed, they were soon impressed with Petra's kitchen skills when they observed her feed and stoke the wood fire in the stove with a measured precision to get the pot of potatoes boiling as fast as possible, but then plateauing off in intensity to maintain the water at a medium boil, and never overflowing with the boiling water. Given Petra's daily experience in boiling tea, not to mention innumerable other occasions of preparing vegetables and stews, both in the Survey Corps and at home, maintaining the desired level of heat in a stove was the easiest thing in the world for her by now. And she let herself get lost in the familiarity of the task, seemingly in her element.

"Well, you seem to know how to run a household," Mrs. Wagner commented. "What does your husband do?"

"Mother. She didn't even say whether she's married," Felix cut in. "You can't assume things just 'cause she's pregnant."

"Well, there was a man in the picture somewhere if she's got a bun in the oven," she huffed.

Petra turned her chin to rest on her shoulder and heaved a sigh as she closed the door to the stove. "She's right: I am married."

And her shoulders slumped a little at having to recall her husband—probably still on the run with his squad, running for his life while she was chatting up these kind acquaintances by letting them assume that he had beaten her and sent her on the run.

"My husband… has a very stressful job," she said simply.

"So?" Mrs. Wagner retorted. "That's no excuse for beating his wife."

"No, but… well, I guess you're right," Petra murmured. "He is a good man. It's just... complicated." She closed her eyes and turned her head away again. "Do you mind if we don't talk about the details?"

Mrs. Wagner straightened up. "Of course, sweetie. My apologies."

Felix grunted, "Fine. You don't have to tell us, but you should tell the MPs."

Petra stiffened. "No. I can't go to them."

And Mrs. Wagner gave a quiet "Oh" and turned away.

"Save it for my father, then," Felix determined at last. "But bottom line: you gotta do something…."

Petra idly nibbled at her lower lip as she drifted from helping the Wagners with the subsequent steps of cooking. She knew that she did, indeed, have to do something, for she had no guarantees how long her stay would last—and she would need a backup plan when this arrangement fell through. Whether the MPs found her or whether the Wagners saw through her lies, she soberly admitted to herself that the worst was probably yet to come.

When Mr. Wagner came back in from hanging the laundry on the clothesline, he took his seat at the table with a grunt. He was a leanly muscled man much like his son, but clearly older and sterner, with a gaze that cast around a room with a sharp eye for detail. He lingered on Petra now, sizing up her pitiful appearance. And indeed, being scrutinized so heavily by these well-meaning strangers made her visibly wilt into her chair.

"It's a good thing you're our only guest tonight, dear," Mrs. Wagner sighed, glancing around the table at everyone. "This is hardly the occasion for the chitchat that guests usually want to engage in here."

"I'm sorry," Petra squeaked, wringing her hands in her lap under the table. "I usually enjoy chatting with people, too."

Mr. Wagner cleared his throat and propped his elbows up on the tabletop, kneading his knuckles with his hands as he regarded Petra carefully.

"What's your name?"

"Angelika," she said quietly.

"So, Angelika," he continued in a drawl while he passed the bowl of mashed potatoes across the table to his wife, "lemme guess: baby daddy had a bad day."

She heaved a sigh. "Yes. It's been rough all around…."

"Well, if you ask me," Mr. Wagner retorted, "any man who lays his hands on a woman deserves the torture chair."

He now leaned in to regard his son, who leaned away from him uncomfortably and lifted his mug to put an obstacle between his face and his father's drilling gaze.

"Felix, if you ever lay your hands on a woman, you best bet I'll be doin' the same to you."

Felix cleared his throat in annoyance as he lowered his mug from his lips. "She says she doesn't want to call the MPs," he said with a shrug before taking another sip, all the while eyeing Petra next to him out of the corner of his eye.

Mr. Wagner scoffed, "Well, I wonder why not. Unless…."

And he narrowed his eyes, his gaze cutting into her.

"Is he an MP himself?"

She froze in her seat and dropped her gaze to her plate, chewing her food slowly to distract herself from her queasy stomach.

What should I say to that? I really can't say anything? Even just saying 'Survey Corps' will only put these people in danger….

"Sweetie," Mrs. Wagner said, "You don't need to talk. Just nod or shake your head. Is he an MP? Is that why you're afraid?"

And at last, her body could no longer hold in her built-up stress: she gave a great, shuddering inhale and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears started to squeeze out from the corners of her eyes; her whole body quivered as she took a gasping squeak of a breath.

"You poor thing," Mrs. Wagner muttered, shaking her head.

"You stay here tonight," Mr. Wagner concluded gruffly with a thud of his mug on the table. "Have your pick of the rooms. And the rest of us will talk it over as a family. See if we can't figure out how to help you. All right, Angelika?"

Petra nodded vigorously, dabbing at her tears with the corner of her sleeve.

"Thank you all," she sniffed, enlisting her fingers to help stem the tide of her tears. "Thank you for everything…."

In Petra's cozy corner room that night, the covers in the bed were warm, and the hot water bottle the Wagners had tucked between the sheets made it even warmer and cozier. She had done everything she could think of to treat herself well that night: taken a warm bath in the communal bathroom for guests, soaked her ring until the blood came off, changed into a maternity nightgown and an old pair of underwear from Mrs. Wagner's old clothing in storage, and even drank some lavender tea from the kitchen pantry as a nightcap. She vaguely wondered to herself if every woman with an adult child still kept their old maternity outfits around somewhere—perhaps hoping in the depths of their heart that they would someday have a grandchild on the way that would need maternity dresses for its mother.

And she was so incredibly grateful for their generosity and concern, but at the same time, the implicit lies she had let grow in their imaginations made her sick.

She lay listlessly on her back under the bedsheets and stared at the ceiling, then soon rolled over onto her side to relieve the pressure her weighty belly made on her back. She stared at the darkened wood grains in the wall, shrouded in half-shadow from the dim light of the candlelit bedside table lamp behind her. And waves upon waves of guilt overcame her, building upon the last, the longer she lay awake.

Levi, I'm sorry... I let them slander you all evening, and I didn't say a word in your defense.

She imagined him raging with indignation at being falsely accused, and she could not help but groan to herself at the amount of trouble she would cause him. He was the last person in the Walls who would lay a hand on her, and yet, due to his proximity to her, when she showed up in public with bruises all over her, he would naturally be the first person that others would suspect.

But at least they won't figure out it's you if they don't even know who I am. Right?

And she slid her hand under her pillow and ran her fingertip over the edge of her identification papers, folded in half and hidden underneath her head.

As long as nobody sees my papers, I can lie for as long as I have to. As long as I can keep the MPs away, nobody has to know….

And even though she had done everything she could to relax that night, it could never be enough to stop her tears from coming back. The electric pain surged through her body anyway, converging in her belly where her baby lay sleeping. She buried her face in her pillow to blot out the tears as they seeped out from the corners of her eyes with every gasping shudder, until she agonizingly slowly gave in to the clutches of sleep.

Petra opened her eyes slowly to regard the darkened room. She paused when she realized that she had never blown the candle in the lamp out, and even though there was enough candle left to last a whole night and then some, it had already burned itself out.

"Oh, Angelika," a familiar woman's voice whispered teasingly in her ear.

Petra gasped and got up on both elbows, squinting in the dark.

"Who are you?"

A dark silhouette was visible: someone sitting cross-legged on the foot of her bed, slowly lighting up with the lamplight as it reignited itself. Nifa, wearing a cream-colored nightgown just like hers, although the maternity nightgown sagged on her baby-free body like a deflated balloon.

"Gee, you've really got a baby belly now," Nifa chuckled, pulling at the sides of the enormous nightgown and gazing down at herself. "I'm swimming in this thing!"

"Nifa!" Petra hissed, her eyes growing wide. "No… you're a ghost. You have to be." She curled up on her side, pulling the covers more tightly around her shoulders, still staring at her unexpected visitor. "I saw your body… your face was gone…."

And Nifa nodded solemnly, pursing her lips.

"I gave you all a scare, the way I went out," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

"I missed you," Petra sniffed, nodding to herself. "Only now that you're dead, do I even say I miss you…." She bit her lip in shame, now that she was confronted with her selfishness made incarnate right before her.

Nifa curled her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Oh well," she sighed. "I admit, I had been secretly hoping to find a letter when I got back to the barracks. But to be fair… I never got around to writing to you again, either." She gave a nonchalant shrug now and smiled. "So, we can call it even. Hm?"

"Hm," Petra mumbled. She took a deep breath in and out, and finally willed herself into sitting up, propping her pillow behind her back to lean against the headboard to regard her friend more properly. Tears sprang to her eyes yet again, but she brushed them away with the backs of her hands.

"Maybe I should have thought harder about what I'd have to sacrifice: I chose him over all the rest of you," she sniffed. "And I was okay with that. But now that you're here next to me... it's just hard, saying goodbye."

Nifa frowned and tightened her grip around her knees.

"Yeah, we're bummed out, too, for sure. But we understand. But don't you go forgetting about us, you hear me?"

Petra nodded solemnly. "I'll always remember that you lived. And who you were in life."

Nifa smiled warmly at her and gave her a nod of reassurance in return. And at last, she found herself able to drift off towards a more peaceful sleep. She rolled over to the dry side of her pillow, rubbed her eyes free of tears, and pulled the covers around her head, like seeking refuge in a cloak of her own making.

In his Captain's office in Military Police HQ in Trost District, the young rookie MP with curly black hair stood at attention in front of the desk, watching the Captain rifle through the papers in front of him. The Captain sat in his chair with the molten autumn sunset ablaze in the windows on either side of him. Another underling with a light brown buzz cut leaned against the side of the desk with his arms crossed.

"So, Bruno," the captain declared, "your drawings are making the rounds all over Trost, and we have more copies being shipped out to the other major cities. Nice work."

He glanced down at the drawing of Levi on the Wanted flyer in his hand, and he soon contorted his face into a smug sneer.

"Heh. Never thought the great Captain Levi would be so… ugly."

Bruno grimaced and gave an apologetic look. "I couldn't get a clear look at him under his hood. It's possible I didn't catch him in the most flattering light…."

His Captain waved his hand. "Nah, kid. Your job is accuracy, not flattery. You gotta draw it like it is, not how you'd like it to be."

He gave a gleeful smirk, relishing the opportunity for gossip.

"And if the guy got hit with the ugly stick," and he shrugged, "well, then it is how it is."

His lips flattened into a frown of pity.

"Damn, though. Does his nose really look like that…?"

Bruno's comrade leaning against the desk chuckled briefly to himself and shook his head. "That's right. We all gotta compensate for something, eh? Hell, the dude's ugly and short," he snorted. "And that means certain other things are also probably not that big…."

"I dunno, though," Bruno mused, deciding to briefly engage them in their banter. "Maybe that's the thing that compensates for everything else."

"Then maybe that's what you should've been paying more attention to!" his comrade cackled. He reached out and slapped Bruno on the back of the shoulder. "Not the shape of his nose, but the size of his package!"

"Well…" the Captain muttered, "opposites attract. They got that much right." He pulled up the Wanted flyer of Petra with his other hand to compare it to Captain Levi's. "You're sure you didn't glam this one up, Bruno?"

"He draw what he saw," the other MP concluded in a singsong voice, tilting his head from side of side. "A little ginger angel came down from heaven and hit him with a lightning bolt."

"No no no, I assure you I have no interest in her like that," Bruno insisted. "We're all professionals here."

Bruno sheepishly rumpled his already-messy hair with his hand, then paused with his fingers still entangled in his bird's nest.

"Hair."

The Captain stared at him. "Huh? What about hair?"

Bruno lowered his hand slowly as realization dawned on him. "It's possible… Petra Ral's hair is a very distinctive color. Strawberry blonde might be the rarest hair color out there. Unless… she dyes it a different one."

The other men grew silent in shared contemplation.

"Like black. Or blonde, if she bleaches it."

The Captain then held up Bruno's drawing of Petra even higher to gaze upon it for a few moments, then tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Shit. You're right, kid. I guess we gotta focus on eye color and facial features."

"And height," the other MP added. "She's only 158 centimeters tall: short, even for a woman."

Bruno nodded. "That's right."

The Captain got up from his seat to lean forward and clap Bruno approvingly on the shoulder.

"Good work, kid. Now…." He cast his gaze between his two subordinates before him.

"Bruno. Since you actually got a good look at her in person, you partner up with Friedrich and keep searching for her. And not just here in Trost, either."

He gave a barking laugh and ran his hand through his scruffy hair.

"Hell, she'd be a fool not to have skipped town by now. I reckon it'd be wisest to start with Erhmich and branch out to the other outlying cities from there."

"Yes, sir!" both soldiers shouted in unison, saluted, and turned to leave. However, Bruno slowed his pace and let Friedrich continue through the doors on his own, leaving him with a frown and a quizzically raised eyebrow as the door swung shut on Bruno.

"What're you dawdling for?" the Captain grumbled. "She already got a whole afternoon's head start on us. Move it if you want to get to Ehrmich by dawn."

Bruno's hand still lingered on the doorknob as he turned to look at his superior officer one more time.

"Say we do find her. What happens then?"

His Captain heaved a sigh of exasperation.

"You let us higher-ups deal with her. Your job is to deliver her to us. Not to question orders."

Bruno swiveled his head back to the door, frowning in displeasure to himself.

"Understood, sir."

And he closed his eyes and started to turn the doorknob, but the Captain spoke up yet again:

"I hear your younger siblings are in the Cadets. Boy and girl twins, aren't they?"

At the mention of his family, Bruno slowly lowered his hand from the doorknob and turned to face the Captain, eyeing him carefully to read his intentions.

"Yes, sir. They are."

"Well. My advice to you is to think about the example you're showing them. With what you say, and what you do. 'Cause from what I hear…" he leaned forward on both elbows to stare sharply into Bruno's eyes, "they're willing to follow orders. As brilliant as you, and obedient. And by God, I hope they follow in your footsteps."

Bruno nodded, muttered a brief "Yes, sir," and excused himself before having to endure any more. The wooden doors swung shut behind him, and he let loose a shaky sigh at last.

When Petra reported to the kitchen in the morning, she gave everyone a fright with a drastic change to her appearance: she had managed to dye her hair a yellow blonde overnight.

"Your hair," Mrs. Wagner gasped.

"That's right," Petra sighed. "I bleached it."

"Your beautiful, ginger hair…" Mrs. Wagner continued in a daze. "How could you?"

"She's trying to hide from people," Felix muttered. "Makes sense."

Petra pouted and stuffed her hands in her cloak pockets. "Believe me, I'm not too happy about it, either."

And Mrs. Wagner huffed in her lingering displeasure, but she admitted, "Well. At least your complexion makes sense as a blonde, too."

Mrs. Wagner's glum attitude permeated the kitchen as she pulled out ingredients from cupboards and storage bins.

"'A woman's glory is in her hair,'" she grumbled. "It was already short to begin with, and now it's a plain old yellow blonde like everybody else's…."

"Mother," Felix snapped at her, "Who cares?"

"I care," she snapped back, "that a pregnant woman felt driven to stick her head in a bucket of noxious fumes just to hide from her abusive husband! Why should she have to cower in fear, when he's the one they should be locking up?"

"What's done is done," Petra concluded, heading for the water basin to wash her hands. "It was my decision; please leave Felix out of it."

Felix grumbled inaudibly to himself for a moment, then sniffed, "Well, at least your bruises are already gone."

Petra froze in her tracks, realizing how bizarre that must look to them. When she had seen her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she had merely heaved a sigh and shaken her head at her freakishly rapid healing from injury.

"I—I guess I had a good night's sleep." She grinned nervously. "Thanks to all of you."

Mr. Wagner suddenly busted in through the back door, bringing in an armload of firewood. He scrutinized Petra from head to foot with his uncomfortable eye for detail, then smacked his son on the arm to send him outside for another load.

"I ain't never seen a ginger heal up as fast as you. You bleach your bruises away, too?"

Mrs. Wagner sighed audibly and shook the water from her hands after washing them. "Oh, well, leave the poor child alone. We'll talk everything over during breakfast."

The couple shared loaded glances at each other, which Petra stared at.

"What did you all talk about as a family last night?" she asked them. And she gave pause to consider what they might have been planning without her. "What… did you decide?"

"Breakfast," Mr. Wagner grunted. "Then we'll talk."

As the Wagners settled into their seats for breakfast, there was a knocking at the door.

"Oh boy, I wonder if that's a guest," Mrs. Wagner pondered aloud, getting to her feet.

Felix and Mr. Wagner both stood up in the same moment; all of them were now standing except for Petra. She looked up at all of them, feeling the anxiety roiling anew in the pit of her stomach.

"I'll get it," Felix blurted out, eyeing both his parents in turn. They sighed and sank back down into their chairs as Felix made his way to the door.

As the murmur of voices filled the background with ambient noise, the couple now looked upon Petra from across the table. Mrs. Wagner's eyes were filled with pity, and her husband gave a sternly-sharpened clearing of his throat.

"Angelika," she began cautiously. "We know you've been apprehensive about going to the authorities. And we don't know why. So, I went out last night and asked a friend whose husband is an MP."

"You what?" Petra gasped. Her fingers curled around either side of the seat of her chair. "No. You can't tell them about me."

"She didn't tell 'em about you per se," Mr. Wagner explained. "She just told 'em to pay us a visit today."

"And that's all I said, sweetie," Mrs. Wagner insisted, her voice growing strained. "I just said that I had a boarder who needed some help."

"No! Her and her MP husband? You already said too much." Petra slammed her eyelids shut, damming her tears of frustration inside. She reminded herself to control her breathing to relax herself, so she kept her breathing deep and slow while her blood pounded in her ears.

"Mother. Father," Felix's voice spoke now, overlaying his quiet, muffled footsteps back in the room. "Look."

And Petra opened her eyes to see him pass some paper flyers into their waiting hands.

"Are they still out there?" she asked him, her voice strained.

"Nah. They're not my parents' friends; just some other MPs."

As they looked the papers over, their faces grew stormy to match their son's glance of trepidation at her.

"If those are what I think they are," Petra began, her voice stiff, "then you'll understand." She got to her feet, leaving her plate untouched without having even had a chance to serve herself any food. "It was all for your own safety. I'm sorry I deceived you."

Petra produced her identification paper from the pocket of her cloak and passed it to Mr. Wagner across the table.

"Please. Don't let them find me. Or at least… don't let them find this."

She nodded in resigned acknowledgment as they opened up her paper and compared it to the Wanted flyer of her, frowning and trading glances of renewed seriousness between the paper, each other, and at her, the only one standing among them now.

"I'm just another blonde," she asserted. "If you want me to live, then please—just tell them you never saw a ginger Petra. Just a blonde Angelika."

Mr. Wagner grunted, "Your call, then. But sit. Eat before you go."

"Yes," Mrs. Wagner said. "Whatever happens, it'd be best to face it on a full stomach."

She glanced miserably at Felix sitting next to her, who nodded solemnly back.

"Okay."

After a mere minute of eating their breakfast in anxious silence, there was another knock on the door: a restrained and polite rapping of knuckles that made no overt indication of what kind of person could be on the other side of the door.

Mrs. Wagner got to her feet, waving her hand to keep her men in their seats.

"I'll get it, for heaven's sake. A woman's face puts people at ease."

Mr. Wagner grunted. "Just be careful, then."

"Well, aren't I always? Think of how scared Miss Angelika would have been if a grumpy tomcat like you had answered the door for her?"

And she gave a brief, meaningful look at Petra before excusing herself and calling out, "Coming!"

She opened the door to let loose an immediate, raucous bark of laughter from two men jostling each other. Mrs. Wagner gave them the cordial greeting, and while showing them inside, said, "You two came just in time: we were just tucking in to breakfast."

"Best meal of the day," one of the men declared as they entered the dining room.

Felix got up and pulled two more chairs out for their guests, and the two young men settled in with a brief quip of thanks. Petra eyed them carefully as she sipped her tea, then paused after swallowing with the cup still at her lips when she recognized one of them: the man with curly black hair who had let her go just yesterday. Military Police. And his buzz-cut companion was likely one, too. They were not in their uniforms, but in casual button-down shirts and belted pants. Undercover, and enjoying it to the fullest.

"You wouldn't happen to have any wine, would you?" the curly-haired one asked. He eyed Petra with a quick glance at her face and her pregnant belly, smiled at her, and added, "I know she's not drinking anytime soon, but to each their own here, right?"

"Stop," his companion grumbled with a petulant frown in his direction. "You can put your day drinking on me, but not on people you just met. Okay?"

"Hey, life is hard," the curly-haired man insisted. "But wine makes it easier."

"Wine is for nights; beer is for days," Mr. Wagner chuckled, rising from his seat with a wave towards his own beer mug. "I'll pour you fellas some."

Petra glanced back down at her saucer to lower her cup back onto it, her thoughts starting to flow anew inside her head. The curly-haired man did not seem to recognize her—but it was just an act. It had to be.

"Wine," Felix uttered slowly, "is a precious drink. More expensive than beer." He crossed his arms and looked both their guests pointedly in the eyes.

"Well, that's why wine costs extra," Mrs. Wagner clarified. "Now help yourselves to some food already! Come: what are your names?"

Mr. Wagner emerged from the kitchen with full beer steins in both hands; the white froth bubbled mouthwateringly on their tops, jiggling as he set them down in front of the two young men.

"Thank you," both men spoke in unison, and they reached out and took their first, hearty sips.

Felix's hands gripped more tightly around his biceps. "I was going to say… that young men like us tend to not be able to afford a day-drinking wine habit." He stared pointedly at each of them in turn. "Unless they have easier access to it than the average civilian..."

The two men glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes and nodded. And they sighed and pulled out their identification papers from their pockets, slapping them down on the tabletops in front of them. Petra made out the names "BRUNO", "FRIEDRICH", and the unmistakable unicorn emblem of the Military Police on each of their papers.

"You gotta lighten up, dude," Friedrich grumbled at Felix. "Let a man drink his morning beer before accusing him of things." And he glared at Bruno. "What did I tell you? You gotta lay off the wine."

"Yeah," Bruno sighed. "We could've had a lovely breakfast, all together. But I fucked up, dude. I'm sorry." He nodded slowly, taking in the room décor, the brunette family of three, and the blonde woman with them. "But—since it seems we're letting everything out of the bag first thing…." He reached out his hand to Petra, palm up. "Let's all be honest with each other."

Petra frowned. "What do you want?"

"Your papers, silly," Bruno said, his voice now even and businesslike. "We showed you ours. Now… you show us yours."

Petra stared at the Wagners one by one, willing herself not to look as anxious as she felt. But thankfully, none of them spoke or made a motion to show them her papers. Feeling braver now, she turned back to Bruno and Friedrich and said:

"I don't have any. But… my name's Angelika."

Friedrich slapped a Wanted flyer on the table with her face on it. "No, it's not. Miss Petra."

"This is ridiculous," Mrs. Wagner blurted out in her defense. "Putting our guest on the spot like this, when she's—not even 'strawberry blonde', like your flyer says?"

"No," Friedrich said, leaning in uncomfortably close to her. "Her hair on her head and her eyebrows are blonde. But her eyelashes… are still a little orange. Unfortunately."

Petra stared impassively at them, betraying no emotion. Bruno raised his hands to his face, seeming to take a brief moment to recompose himself.

"You realize that if you have no papers," Bruno explained carefully, "then we'll have no choice but to assume you're not a Citizen of the Walls. Is there anyone who can vouch for you having Surface citizenship? Under any name?"

Petra was stony-faced, steeling herself for what she knew was about to happen.

"No."

The two MPs got to their feet.

"Then it's time to come with us. Miss Angelika."

She dipped her head, nodding weakly in resignation. "I understand."

"Her husband took 'em," Mr. Wagner said. "That's why she ain't got 'em with her."

Friedrich turned his head in burgeoning interest. "Taking his wife's ID from away from her? Hm. Then maybe the rumors were true."

He pulled out the Wanted flyer of Captain Levi and set it on the table next to Petra's flyer.

"As far as we know, if this is who she is, then that's who her husband is." Friedrich tapped his finger on the paper. "Keep an eye peeled for him, too, please." And he nodded once. "Thank you all for your cooperation."

"And the beer," Bruno added with a tilt of his head. "It was quite good. Really." He reached for his beer mug and took one last, long swig before finally getting back to business.

And the Wagners looked on with pity in their eyes as they helplessly watched the MPs cuff Petra's hands behind her back and guide her out towards the foyer.

"I'll search the inn," Bruno told his companion. "You search her in HQ and start the questioning."

"Hang on, where's your warrant, son?" Mrs. Wagner asked testily.

"Right here." He pulled out the search warrant and placed it on the table. The tabletop was now covered with papers on every space not already occupied with dishes. "It shouldn't take too long," he assured them. "Feel free to continue your breakfast."

Mr. Wagner scoffed. "I'd reckon we all done lost our appetites by now. But the rest of you eat," he declared, getting to his feet. "I'll be showing our guest around."

Mrs. Wagner and Felix trailed Friedrich and Petra to the doorway, staring anxiously, while Mr. Wagner and Bruno headed upstairs to Petra's room.

"What are you gonna do to her?" Felix asked them.

"All Scouts have a capture-or-kill order on them," Friedrich explained simply. "But our superior officers have the final say. All I can tell you is to hope that being pregnant will work in her favor. A stay of execution. At the very least."

Petra crushed her lips together to stop them from quivering in rage. But before anyone could say anything else, Friedrich prodded her in the back to force her over the threshold and through the open door to the glaring bright light of morning.

As Levi made his way through the darkened streets of Mitras, he reflected on the discoveries of recent days that had made his head spin. There was Kenny, who had raised him and then abandoned him: a wild card who could have chosen to kill Petra or let her live. And Levi had wanted to know why he had chosen to let her live—just in case there was any tenderness left in him for the wife of the boy he had raised.

'Everybody I've met… was all the same. Drinking… women… worshipping God, even… family… the King… dreams… children… power. Everyone had to be drunk on somethin' to keep pushing on…. Everyone… was a slave to somethin'. Even him…. And even… your wife.'

Levi remembered clenching his teeth at the mention of Petra again. He admitted to himself that a part of him was glad that he got to watch Kenny die slowly, after what Petra had suffered unprovoked at Kenny's hands.

The sun had set hours ago when Levi finally made it back to Military Headquarters in Wall Sina with the Titan serum kit weighing heavily in the pocket of his cloak. And yet everyone was still awake, waiting for him. Seeing their faces brighten at seeing him again started to melt away the numbness he had felt in his heart at sending off Kenny to his inevitable death. His former father figure had let him down again, but for all the man's flaws, it turned out he was the closest family Levi had had all along. And it was comforting to know that he did still have family to lean on: the Survey Corps, and from that came Petra and their baby.

"Levi," Erwin said, rising to his feet from the couch where he had been sitting. "I hear you managed to find Kenny?"

"Yeah." Levi turned to close the doors shut securely behind him. "He was still alive when we found him… but he didn't live that much longer."

"I see."

And Levi thought to himself about all the things he had found out from Kenny that were swimming in his head. Kenny was his uncle—his mother's older brother. And they all shared the same last name with Mikasa: Ackerman. A people who had opposed the First King long ago for wanting humanity to die. He glanced over at Mikasa, the turmoil rising within him at the sight of her.

'We Ackermans opposed the King,' Kenny said. She and I really are alike. That surge of power we've all felt… how easily I took after Kenny, and she after me….

At the thought of the King, he noted that Historia—the last of Royal blood—was sitting on a plush velvet couch, leaning back and closing her eyes. Mikasa sat next to her with a frown of concern, and Eren sat on Mikasa's other side, leaning his elbows on his knees to see both Historia and Mikasa at once.

"Historia," he asked her. "How do you feel?"

Historia opened her eyes listlessly. "A lot of things, I guess... I just killed my father who tried to kill me..."

"Tch. Funnily enough, I just killed my uncle who tried to kill me…."

Conny snapped his head up. "Wait, what? Did you put a bullet in his head as soon as you found him?"

"No, but I cut him open bad enough to make him bleed out slowly. The rest you can thank Rod Reiss for."

He thought now about fathers: the passing of the mantle of "someone's father" from Kenny to him. About Petra and the unborn child he had fathered with her. And about Kenny spending the last of his strength to hand him the precious cargo he now carried in the pocket of his cloak, weighing it down with its import. Indeed, despite Kenny's twisted way of showing it, Kenny did care about Levi. And having that answer—and that closure—mattered to him more than he could describe in words.

"Commander," Levi began, sliding his hand into his cloak pocket for the serum kit. Erwin straightened up expectantly, but the doors unexpectedly swung open behind Levi. He left the kit in his pocket and whirled around with both hands at the ready, only to find himself face-to-face with a group of five stern-looking MPs filing in through the double doors.

"Captain Levi," the leader in front addressed him. "We thank you for your service to humanity."

Levi sighed impatiently. "Yeah, you're welcome. Is that all?" He glanced furtively over at Erwin out of the corner of his eye. "I'm overdue for a visit back home."

The MP retorted with a head shake and a heavy sigh of his own. "Unfortunately, you can't go home just yet. You'll… have to come with us."

A ripple of audible confusion swept around the room as all the Scouts bearing witness stared uneasily at each other.

"What?" Levi snapped at the MP. "Why?"

"Come with us and we'll explain."

Levi crossed his arms and glared at him. "Hell no. You can explain right here, right now."

The lead MP gave a slight turn of his head to either side to activate his comrades, who twitched where they stood flanking him.

"We were trying not to have to do this in front of your comrades, but…." And he turned to his colleagues and gave a toss of his head. "Cuff him."

Levi's eyebrows furrowed in shock. "What the fuck?"

The MPs spun him around by the shoulder and roughly cuffed his hands behind his back, then they proceeded to search him and confiscate his ODM Gear boxes, stripping them from his sides.

The lead MP was unremorseful. "You're under arrest for suspected domestic abuse, suspected domestic violence, and potentially further charges that may come forth as we investigate. Your case will be tried in military court."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he snarled. "I would never hit my wife."

"And that may very well be true. But, for her own safety, we can't let you near her until we confirm the whole truth."

Levi sighed in frustration as the MPs now began searching the pockets of his clothing.

"God dammit..."

He froze when they produced the serum kit from his cloak, staring wild-eyed at Erwin. The MP cracked open the case and briefly looked its contents up and down, then clasped it shut again. Eren's and Historia's eyes grew wide when they saw the serum kit, recognizing it at once.

"Wait!" Eren exclaimed, reaching out a hand for the rectangular box.

"Erwin," Levi said in a grave tone. "That kit—it's serum..."

Erwin reached out his hand. "That syringe kit is of vital importance, and it's the only one of its kind that we know of. I'll require that back to deliver it to Premier Zachary."

The lead MP said, "Fine. We'll let you accompany us while we bring it to the Premier ourselves."

Erwin nodded. "Very well. Is there anything I can do to smooth things over with the court?"

The MP shrugged. "We'll be in touch. A commander is also a supervisor of their subordinates' conduct—both professionally and personally."

Erwin glanced at Levi, then back at the MP. "And to that end, I'm willing to vouch for Captain Levi's innocence."

Levi hung his head for a long moment, squeezing his eyes shut to help himself think.

"So, where is she, then?" he asked the MPs. "If she's so battered and bruised because of me, as you all keep saying?"

The leader gave him a sharp look. "She's missing. All the more reason for suspicion to fall on you, Captain."

And Levi closed his eyes again.

Think, God dammit! What the hell happened to her? Where did she go?

He locked gazes with Erwin, as if trying to channel a little of his Commander's out-of-the-box thinking by meditating on his face.

Where would she go if she didn't want to be found?

As realization dawned on him at last, his eyes narrowed to steely slits and his expression hardened.

"Erwin," Levi muttered. "You remember when we met?"

Erwin paused, then nodded in affirmation. "How could I forget?"

"Well, it would be good if you could go back there. To check on things back home for me."

Levi stared at him, hoping that his message was being conveyed. Surely enough, his Commander nodded again.

"And come visit me in jail, God dammit," Levi added. "As soon as possible."

"I will."

And then, with gritted teeth and furious glares at his captors, Levi was unceremoniously hauled out the door in handcuffs as everyone stared dumbstruck.

Notes:

Petra was apparently blonde in the manga, so I was glad to have figured out an opportunity to make a nod to that somewhere in this story. I miss those nighttime visits from Nifa (the adult one, not the baby), so I was also glad for another opportunity for Petra to see her in this chapter. And I clearly have a thing for having Levi get wrongfully arrested (or at least patted down aggressively). I just find it entertaining to see him get righteously indignant!

Chapter 23: Captives

Summary:

Petra and Levi endure their respective lockups. Erwin keeps his promise to Levi.

Notes:

I apologize for the extended wait for this chapter. I posted on my Tumblr earlier explaining that I have been going through a lot in life these days, and I needed to dedicate more time and mental space to taking care of business. Thank you all for your patience and I hope you've all been well! I'll let you know in advance that I may need up to two months to post the next chapter, too. As I said, a lot is happening in my life these days, and I need to address those things first. Apologies also to the commenter whom I told that we would be back to the Forest by now. It's clearly not going to work out quite that quickly… but in a few more chapters, I swear!

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"2volt" – Hiroyuki Sawano (Attack on Titan OST)

"進撃gt20130218巨人" – Hiroyuki Sawano (Attack on Titan OST)

Bruno rested his hands on his hips after a protracted search of the bed-and-breakfast inn.

"Well," he concluded, "I'm not finding anything out of the ordinary here."

Mr. Wagner raised an eyebrow, his penchant for dark humor having run dry with mounting impatience.

"Well, then, son, I reckon you oughta run along now."

Bruno furtively eyed Mr. Wagner's pants pocket through a quick downward glance, silently noting to himself that there were folded-up pieces of paper in his butt pocket.

"Our search warrant permits us to search the premises," Bruno explained pointedly. "And that's all it permits us to do. So... I'll leave it at that."

Mr. Wagner had his arms sternly crossed, boring holes into Bruno's eyes.

"Then I'm glad we have an understanding."

And Bruno gave a sad smile in return.

"Yes. At least there's that."

And he turned to leave, although in another moment he turned back to add:

"Your son. He's a sharp one," he noted, tapping a finger in the air. "Perceptive about people. Would've made for a good MP."

Mr. Wagner shrugged.

"Perhaps. But then again, I think you would agree that the job requires a certain suspension of one's own morals. Even though I got a friend in your regiment, I see now that 'serving the King' ain't always about serving the people."

Bruno pursed his lips in discomfort.

"To that... I'm not allowed to agree."

Mr. Wagner gave a curt nod.

"No, of course not. But if you could, I daresay you just might."

The MP named Friedrich summarily hauled Petra into the forbiddingly-enormous Military Police Headquarters in Ehrmich District. And while her eyes and ears paid strict attention to the increasingly smaller rooms she was herded through and the boring-but-important paperwork they put her through, her heart felt numb to everything that was happening. She was pragmatic enough to realize that she very well could be caught eventually. But after just one day? That was disheartening at best.

Eventually, she found herself being deposited at another table, her hands still cuffed behind her back and her belly protruding obnoxiously between her line of sight and the table edge.

I can hardly even see around my own belly, she thought to herself with a tiny sigh. Nifa was right; I'm like a blob of meat with legs.

Friedrich headed to the door to the interrogation room and let another man in: seemingly older, with an air of commanding swagger, his hands carrying a file folder thick with documents. The older MP slapped his folder down on the opposite side of the table from her, then he came around to the back of her chair, peering down at her for several moments of burning scrutiny. In an act of impulsiveness, he shoved the back of her chair in, pressing her belly even more uncomfortably against the table, and she winced momentarily and shot her interrogator her most fuming glare. And she continued to stare furiously at him, following him around the table as she slowly inched her chair back out from under the table with her feet. He took his own seat across the table from her, clearing his throat self-importantly. Friedrich leaned against the table and crossed his arms, cautiously regarding her and the other man in turn.

"So, Miss Petra. You managed to bleach your hair and your eyebrows. But they caught you on your eyelashes," the MP in the chair sneered. "You're a ginger; you can't lie about that much."

Petra cursed herself internally at her failure to anticipate that they would notice the color of her eyelashes. Her disguise was good enough to convince a casual passerby, but clearly not good enough to fool someone leaning in close to her over a table.

"My name's Angelika," she insisted yet again, eliciting a scoff from the MP. "Angelika Klein," she added for further evidence. "I told your people at the intake desk already."

"Yeah, and I'm Captain Levi," he snorted. "And I'm even more well-hung than my height would suggest."

She scowled even more severely at him.

"What is your problem?" she grumbled.

"My problem," he began, "is you."

The MP cleared his throat pointedly.

"You know, it just so happens that if we expand our search to the entire territory within the Walls, we have active cases for two strawberry blondes who have gone missing: Carly Stratmann, and Petra Ral."

Petra willed her expression to be impassive, but her thoughts were growing muddled.

"Two lovely young ladies with the same eye color and hair color. And unless Carly cut her hair, and got knocked up by her missing boyfriend…."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Petra declared.

But at this, the Captain held up the Wanted flyers for Carly and Petra on either side of his face.

"Uh-oh," he smirked.

Petra sighed and tilted her head back.

"Well, the thing is, I can't be either of those women."

"Oh really? Why not?"

"'Cause I'm not even from the Surface."

He tapped his finger on the stack of papers in the open folder in front of him. "Now there's another lie. It's not that you're not 'from the Surface'. It's just that you don't have papers…."

He turned to Friedrich and asked, "Is your partner back from searching the inn yet?"

Friedrich shook his head. "Not yet, I don't think… but he should be done soon."

A short while later, the curly-haired Bruno let himself into the interrogation room, dragging a chair for himself in and making himself comfortable, pulling it in close to the table so he could lean his elbows on the tabletop—the better to gaze into Petra's eyes. Petra frowned and eyed him suspiciously.

"So I'm curious, Petra," Bruno began. "What's it like, being a Scout? And how would you compare it to the Military Police—from what you've seen of us so far?"

Friedrich and the local Captain glanced quizzically at each other, but they yielded the floor to Bruno for now to see where he would go with this.

"It's 'Angelika.' And I wouldn't know the ins and outs of anyone else's job," Petra declared. "I only know that I have my husband and myself in the world."

Friedrich groaned. "More of this 'husband' business, huh? Tell us about him, then. Where's he from? What does he do for a living?"

She shrugged. "He's from Underground. Same as me. Like I said."

Friedrich wagged a finger at her. "That's where you claim to be from. Not what you do for a living."

Petra continued to stare dispassionately at them. "We make tea. Both of us."

"'Make tea'? As in, brewing tea?"

She nodded. "That, and making sachets."

"Heh. Right. Okay. Then what's the last kind of tea you made?"

"Strawberry tea," she said plainly.

"Oh really?"

And she nodded. "Yes, strawberries are cleansing for the mouth." She continued, even more effusively now. "Good for when people can't brush their teeth, and they only have a little water. Drying fruit and making it into tea makes it last for many more servings than if you were to eat it fresh..."

Friedrich sighed. "Okay, fine. Whatever then." He eyed his other two colleagues around the table. "Can we discuss privately before we decide?"

The Captain nodded with a grunt. "That's the only way we're getting to a decision."

"Underground people are the only ones who wouldn't have papers," Friedrich spluttered, now in another room away from Petra's earshot. "Unless she ditched her papers ahead of time."

"Which we can't prove either way," Bruno muttered.

The Captain pointed a finger at Bruno's chest. "And you're sure you tore that bed-and-breakfast up from top to bottom?"

"Yes, sir. Didn't find a thing."

"God dammit."

Friedrich nodded slowly to himself. "I'd say her reaction was genuine. Should we bring in Mr. Stratmann anyway to confirm or deny?"

The Captain nodded. "We'd better do things by the book. Given that our punishments on the table range from setting her free to executing her," he scoffed. "Wouldn't wanna fuck that one up."

Bruno heaved a heavy sigh, feeling even more ill at ease in the company of his superiors.

"Are we really doing this? Are we really deporting a pregnant woman back Underground?"

"If Mr. Stratmann says it's not his daughter, and Petra Ral's parents also deny her, then probably."

Bruno covered his face in his hands and groaned. Not one, but two families being brought in to gawk at their pregnant prisoner. It was not a good look for the MPs.

"Mr. Stratmann, yes, to narrow things down, but there's no point in bringing in the Rals. They'd just deny her either way: if she is their daughter, they'd want to claim she isn't so we can't execute her for being a Scout. and if she isn't, then they'll be telling the truth by denying her, anyway."

"We can't let her set a precedent," Friedrich insisted. "If we don't do this, every single pregnant whore down there is gonna clamor for leniency, too."

"I get that," Bruno grumbled. "But it still feels wrong."

The Captain added, "It's not our place to decide what's right or wrong in the eyes of the law."

"But what about what's right or wrong according to basic human decency?"

And the Captain tilted his head to regard Bruno with a newfound severity.

"We're professionals: we aren't to be swayed by our emotions."

"Look," Levi began has he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "If you want any answers outta me, you better be honest with me first. When and where did she go missing? And how did you idiots manage to lose her?" he added with a smirk.

The MP across the table from him was outwardly calm and cool, seemingly unfazed with his accusation of incompetence. His jagged blond bangs partially obscured his eyes, which were sharp with intelligence but heavy-lidded with chronic lack of sleep and stress. And Levi wondered whether that was how other people saw him: emotionless to a fault, despite the intensity of the emotions he kept hidden from view.

"We had a strong lead on someone we thought was Petra. But the report from the MPs in charge of the arrest noted that the woman they caught was a runaway from Underground who overstayed her Surface visit." The man leaned back in his own chair and crossed his own arms, seemingly mimicking Levi's own actions. "They were very insistent on not having a pregnant woman behind bars for too long. Even if the alternative meant having her Underground—and to be honest, I'm not sure which would have been worse."

Levi blinked slowly as his mind continued to process. He thought about his request to Erwin and hoped that everything would work out—that he could manage to go down there and find her.

"Not to worry, though, Captain," the MP continued. "Your Commander's already scheduled to drop by to see you tomorrow. So, if you can manage to survive one night with us, you'll have your answers soon enough."

Levi gritted his teeth and gave a taciturn grunt of acknowledgment. At this point, there was nothing to do but wait.

"That doesn't mean it'll be all sunshine and roses, though," the MP added. "After all… you still have to convince us that you didn't abuse her."

"Someone else did it," he sighed. "One of your people, in fact. Kenny Ackerman. If he rings a bell."

"Ackerman, yes. And apparently, you're an Ackerman, too."

"Tch. I guess," Levi grumbled, gazing off to the side to examine the roundness of the stones at their feet. "I made it this far without a family name. So I don't see why I need one now."

The door next to both men swung open, revealing another MP with a scroll in hand.

"Captain Lauro," the man said, addressing the blond MP. "The letter from Miss Petra's physician."

And both MPs exchanged heavy, meaningful glances as the scroll passed from one man to the other. Lauro poked the scroll end over the table at Levi.

"Well, what're you waiting for? You're the addressee."

"Oh?" Levi raised an eyebrow, noting the wax seal on the paper. "I'm surprised you didn't read it before giving it to me."

"Oh, we did," the MP in the doorway chuckled. "We just had to break the seal very carefully and re-melt it," he noted with pride. "We have some tricks up our sleeves, too, Captain Levi."

Levi snatched the paper out of Lauro's hand with a snarl and popped the wax seal open with a snap. His eyes narrowed more and more severely as he scanned down the page, and by the end of the message, his expression had grown even darker than before. He felt their eyes on him, scrutinizing his reaction carefully. And being on display like this in front of strangers made him feel even more numb.

Due to Petra's maternal family history of severe bleeding during childbirth, I hereby express my concern for her health and that of her baby upon the beginning of labor. While this is not a death sentence, as it was not for her mother, I caution you to safeguard her health all the more fervently, and to ensure that you are available to support her at any cost as her pregnancy approaches term. You may present this letter to your superior officers to secure the necessary time off work.

Still feeling stunned by the letter, Levi re-rolled the paper up with a forced precision and sat it back down on the table between himself and Lauro.

"Whatever reaction you're expecting me to have," he growled, "it's none of your damn business. So you can quit gawking at me and lock me up already."

Lauro was now the one to sigh, uncrossing his arms and getting to his feet.

"Prep the cell, Victor," he told the other MP. "I think that's all we're getting out of him tonight."

Victor nodded curtly at his superior. "It's already ready, sir."

After the ordeal of being interrogated for even that brief length of time, Levi was finally shown to his home away from home: a dank underground cell in the basement of the Military Courthouse with nothing much more than a bed hemmed in by cobblestone floor and walls. He gritted his teeth when he reflected on the irony of the recent past, when Eren was in this very jail cell and he and Erwin had been outside it, looking in at their captive prisoner.

But he noted that the MPs had given surprisingly nice accommodations in that otherwise austere living quarters: fresh water in a bucket, a bar of soap in a metal dish, and a small towel folded into a neat rectangle at the foot of his bed, which itself was crisply made. And he gave a smirk of tacit approval that at least his rank still afforded him some level of civil living standards.

"Only the best for a wife beater," the MP named Lauro noted sarcastically.

"A famous and influential one, that is," Victor added. "Not that you're proven to be a wife-beater," he added with a hint of apology, "but… you get what he means."

Lauro grinned at Levi through the cell bars. "Yup. Commander's orders. Be glad your Commander and our Commander are friends."

And Levi sighed to himself, shaking his head. Of course it was all at Erwin's request. To these people, he wasn't worth a stick with a wad of cotton on the end to wipe his rear with. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, this was always what he had been to the figures of law and order: someone to be merely tolerated at the behest of someone they actually did respect.

Alone in his cell at last (not counting the two guards annoyingly stationed on each far corner of the room), Levi took a seat at the edge of the squeaky bed and kicked his boots off with a clatter of leather soles bouncing upon stone. And as he flopped onto the bed on his back, he recalled what had happened between him and Petra. The memory of that day resurfaced in his thoughts: like a nightmare in a daydream, in which Petra had suffered a gruesome death at Kenny's hands and died in Levi's arms. And it infuriated him, in a way, to have seen her be so accepting of her fate—to be at peace with an untimely death, even if it meant leaving him behind to keep on living without her. But he should not have expected anything different after what she had told him on their last night together, reading that book of fairy tales and talking about stories, endings, and death.

But even so, he could not bring himself to look at things the same way she did—to accept whatever tragedy may happen. No matter what force of heaven or hell sought to take her away from him, he swore to rage against it all and keep her by his side, where she belonged.

You're the one who's into fairy tales, Petra, he thought to himself. So why am I the only one who's willing to believe in the impossible? This crazy dream of mine where you don't have to die before your time. Is that so wrong?

While Levi and Petra had sat in the sand, the voice in his head had guided him, calling it the Paths—that place of light cutting through the darkness, tracing every life of every soul into the sky. The voice had sounded just like him, but at the same time, it wasn't him. Not quite.

Petra's eyes followed their other selves as they seemed to walk with purpose—seeming to know exactly where they were and what to do. They followed a little girl with blonde hair, dressed in rags, as she staggered along with a bucket of water. That Levi relieved her of her burden, and that Petra watched with a maternal eye, waiting patiently to see what the girl would do.

"Those people in green cloaks… they look just like us," she said in a hushed voice.

"But they're not us," Levi insisted. "They're just other versions of us."

She continued to look on as Mikasa stepped forward and received from the girl a pomegranate forged from sandy mud.

"I wonder what happened to them…. I wonder what they went through…."

"If I had to guess," he began deliberately, "I'd say that they're the versions of us who made different choices. To get where they are now."

She nodded. "Different choices…. Different paths."

He eyed their green cloaks, black pants, and ankle-high black boots. An evolution from the current uniform they knew—a glimpse of the future of the Survey Corps.

"Given that they're both still in uniform, they're still fighting. They chose humanity." He turned to look at his Petra again. "Whereas we chose each other."

"Do you ever wonder whether we made the right choice?" She turned her head to look at the other Levi and Petra again. "Or did they?"

He heaved a sigh.

"There's no right or wrong choice. All I know is, you and I chose to honor what we both wanted. But maybe they're living by what other people want." And he paused to contemplate his thought. "Is it right or wrong to be selfish? Or selfless? Who knows. But either way…" he glanced down at her belly, then back at her face, "both good and bad can come from every choice."

Petra hung her head and sat down in the sand, seemingly defeated.

"I'm sorry I died on you," she mumbled. "You kept your promise—you came back to me—but I couldn't even stay alive for you…."

Levi shut his eyes tightly, his whole body shaking where he sat in the sand.

"There are always factors that are out of your control. Other people making their own choices—choices that affect you."

And he remembered clenching his fist hanging at his side when he thought again of the person who had killed her. At least, at the end of it all, Levi had gotten his revenge. For whatever it was worth.

She gave a timid shake of her head and heaved another sigh, seeming to sink a little deeper in the sand.

"No, it's not just that… I wanted to die. I don't deserve to live when so many others died, too…."

At this, Levi's eyes flew open to glare at her now, and his brow furrowed in mounting frustration.

"Bullshit! Who do you think they all died for?" He took her hands in his. "For you. And for me. For our baby. For us. So we could live happily—for all their sakes."

Tears sprang to her eyes at last, and she could not bear to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Levi…. But as far as I know, there's no changing the past."

He hung his head in sober acknowledgment.

"No. There isn't."

Erwin pulled out his identification papers to show to the guards at the entrance to the Underground City in Mitras, prompting his young companion Armin to do the same. As they descended the flight of stone steps into a subterranean hallway lit at regular intervals with torches along the walls, Armin thought grimly to himself that the area was structurally identical to the one in Stohess that he, Eren, and Mikasa had attempted to lure Annie into.

At last, Erwin spoke while eyeing him carefully out of the corner of his eye.

"Armin. I want you to know that I brought you with me because I value your perspective. What you see with your own eyes, and what you think with that sharp mind of yours. Whatever squalid circumstance we may find her in down there, keep your guard up and think."

Armin nodded curtly. "Yes, Commander. Thank you…."

"But… there's something I was hoping you could clarify for me, while I have you by yourself."

Armin felt a thrill of timidity pass through him.

"Yes...?"

Erwin slowed his pace to a stop, turning around to face Armin squarely now.

"The report of when Reiner and Bertholdt escaped. What happened out there between Eren and Mikasa?"

And Armin grew pale as he recalled what he had seen.

"Because I've been hearing a rumor among the former 104th Cadets about them."

Armin pursed his lips uneasily, but he soon managed to respond in a faltering voice: "I asked Eren about it afterward, but I didn't ask Mikasa yet. I think... she'd be embarrassed..."

He stared grimly back at his Commander, feeling the beginnings of sweat beading on his hairline.

Erwin noted with deliberation: "People are saying… that they kissed."

They let the stiff silence hang in the musty air, neither of them speaking for a long moment.

"But curiously enough," Erwin continued finally, "you made no mention of it in your report. Even though you were the one closest to them at the time to see it more clearly than anyone else."

Armin told himself now that he had to be expressionless—to not give away anything more than his words. His friends were counting on him.

"I didn't think it was relevant to the mission report," Armin declared softly.

Erwin propped his one remaining hand on his hip, sternly regarding Armin. In this position, the empty sleeve of Erwin's missing arm hung even more glaringly at his side, making a clear statement itself.

"On the contrary: what people do as a result of their emotions is of the utmost importance. None of us are immune from being swayed by our emotions. We are, all of us, at war within ourselves: our own selfish desires versus the good of humanity."

And he turned his gaze toward the inner entrance to the Underground, just a stone's throw away from where they stood.

"Sometimes those goals overlap—and sometimes they don't."

Armin was silent, contemplating his Commander's wisdom.

"So," Erwin said, in a more somber tone of voice, "my question to you is: what will you choose? And what will your friends choose?"

It was just the two of them: Armin and Eren, alone outside the Survey Corps' cabin in the woods, gazing up at the star-filled sky and feeling the cold of mid-autumn creeping into their bones. After a long moment of Armin's expectant sideways glances, Eren finally spoke.

"You and Jean were about to be overrun by Titans, people kept on dying, and during all that... she leaned in and kissed me."

Armin nodded. "Yeah. I saw."

Eren sighed, watching his breath turn to a chilly white puff from his lips.

"It was—a bit of a shock, for sure," he admitted.

"But you didn't reject her," Armin pressed on.

"Not exactly. But I told her, 'We can't forget about the Titans'... And I got up and did something about it."

"And what about now? Now that there are no more Titans about to kill us? At least, not at this moment?"

Eren turned away as he grew more deeply pensive.

"It's hard to say. There are no guarantees. But... I wish we could forget about the Titans. Just forget about it all and live our lives." He dipped his head. "But I guess we can't. Because I have this power."

Then his voice went hushed, barely audible even to himself:

"And therefore, this duty to others."

Armin nodded soberly once more. "Yes."

And Eren gritted his teeth at the injustice of their situation—the duty to others that continued to enslave them.

"I want to believe that there will come a day when we can live for ourselves," Eren admitted. "But... today's just not that day."

And, feeling a sudden surge or renewed resolve, Eren sprang to his feet with another declaration to his friend:

"Freedom to live as one pleases, without walls or cages... that's what true freedom is."

In his characteristic ardent fervor, he clenched his fist at his side, reminding himself to fight.

"And if others deny me my freedom... I will take away theirs."

Erwin nodded slowly as he mulled over Armin's recounting, resting his knuckles against his lips as he pondered.

"'Without walls or cages'... There are many things that can cage a person, beyond these mere three Walls. For example, a promise made that is not to be broken. Or a sworn duty to others, never to be abandoned for as long as one lives."

Armin nodded.

"I see. Yes... you are right."

"So, forgive me for my intrusion out of concern for your friends. But you know as well as I do: we must keep them focused on their duty to humanity. We are, all of us, duty-bound in this shared sacrifice. And they must always remember that."

Erwin reached out with his one remaining hand and rested it on Armin's shoulder—a symbol of trust, and of passing the torch.

"As their closest friend, I leave that task to you, Armin."

Armin nodded again, more decisively now.

"I understand. Commander."

Petra grinned sheepishly when the shocked faces of Leyla and Zeyneb greeted her at the door.

"You again?" Zeyneb spluttered. "Why are you still down here?"

"And why are you blonde?" Leyla added.

"Okay," Petra began hurriedly, "but I went back to the Surface and then... went back down here." She gulped in her awkwardness. "Yeah."

Zeyneb rolled her eyes. "Ugh."

In contrast, Leyla gave her a warm smile. "Sure, you can crash with us. And you can earn your keep through gossip." Her eyes twinkled eagerly; no doubt she already had plenty of questions in mind. "You can start by explaining the hair…."

Petra smiled awkwardly again. "Okay…."

Zeyneb tossed her head at Petra. "Well, get your ass in here. And hubby owes us big-time."

Petra got settled in at the faded wooden kitchen table while she watched Leyla put together tea sachets to sell or give away later. Her chair groaned under her substantial weight. Every time she was on her feet, her legs felt the heaviness of her belly, and every time she sat, the furniture she sat on would always squeak under the stress.

"So you're on the run from the law," Zeyneb concluded, her voice distant and awestruck. "Drama. Love it."

"You know, I'm still surprised that Levi got married up," Leyla commented, attempting to sound nonchalant. "Never gave a woman a second glance, from what I heard about him..."

"What are you talking about?" Zeyneb shouted at her from the living room, then came into the kitchen with the house pistol prominently stuck in her waistband. "A lot of prostitute babies are like that. Want to get as far away as possible from what their mothers did."

She paused.

"Then again, I guess the allure of a ginger is hard to ignore," Zeyneb added, looking Petra up and down. "What would you say, Petra?" She grinned and started to cackle openly. "Does he not like fucking all that much?"

"Gee, um…." She felt herself blushing hotly in her cheeks. "I wouldn't say that, exactly..."

And the two women burst out laughing in unison.

"Yeah, I mean, I guess he managed to do it at least once, if he did knock you up, after all!"

Leyla shrugged and handed Petra a bowl of dried loose-leaf tea to ration into sachet bags.

"Marriage is a Surface thing. You sure converted him good. I'm sure you make it worth his while, if he's only allowed to sleep with you for the rest of his life..."

Petra's eyes grew a little wider. "Marriage is a 'Surface thing'? What's so wrong with marriage?"

Leyla sighed as her hands continued to move with practiced ease to seal the sachets that Petra had filled with tea leaves. "You can't get legally married—or legally anything—if your whole existence is illegal to begin with."

Zeyneb nodded sagely as she divided up the sachets into even bunches for packaging. "That's right. Hell, I don't know anybody who's 'married'—or goes around saying they are, even."

"Besides," Leyla added, gaining momentum with her thoughts, "you're letting yourself be controlled by a piece of paper. If he sleeps around with other people, if he beats you, rapes you, rapes your children, you're committed to him. Same as how we're all down here for lacking a certain piece of paper that would let us go anywhere else. And now that includes you, honey."

Petra balked at the suggestion of his hypothetical future crimes. "Levi would never do any of those things. Why would I have married him otherwise?"

Zeyneb sighed dramatically and shook her head. "Sweetie. I'm not saying he's the same as the rest of 'em. But that's exactly how everything starts. Misplaced faith in someone who never did anything to earn it. The way we tend to see 'marriage' down here, it's just another promise that's impossible to keep."

Leyla nodded. "Agreed. Men and their 'promises' don't tend to work out, is what we're saying…. Like 'I promise to be faithful to you forever', and then when you get pregnant and you swell up like a balloon, his eyes will start wandering toward the next sexy thing."

Petra gave a troubled frown.

"Well, Levi earned it. I trust him…. I knew he was attracted to me. But he told me we couldn't be together. And he never touched me or even looked at me for four whole years."

Zeyneb could not help but gawk. "Four whole years? Okay, I guess that takes some self-control..."

Leyla looked up from her work to stare at Petra. "Wait, but why the hell couldn't you be together if you wanted to be?"

"Um..." And Petra blushed even more furiously. "'Cause he was... my superior officer. The Captain of the squad."

Leyla let her mouth hang open. "Dayyum."

And Leyla and Zayneb looked at each other approvingly.

Zeyneb nodded slowly. "'Petra and her Captain.' Sounds hot. Huh. Okay. Forget everything else I just said. That's hot."

Leyla gave her a judging stare.

"What?" Zeyneb said. "I'm a sucker for forbidden love, okay?"

Petra finally broke out in a grin, relieved to have escaped further scrutiny from them.

"Well, at the end of the day," Leyla sighed, "I like happy endings, too. Whatever else has to happen to get there."

And Petra smiled a tiny smile.

"Don't we all?"

The uncertain days in hiding passed in a whirlwind for Petra: a new home with new rules and new tasks to do to earn her keep. She was glad for the work to distract herself from her precipitous wasting: a glance in their bathroom mirror showed an unnaturally gaunt face with wan, thin cheeks where a perennial smile usually hung. And the clothes on her back—the one dress she now wore all day, every day—felt a little looser on her frame. Her belly thankfully stayed the same size instead of shrinking, but she could not say the same for the rest of the meat on her bones. She ate their food and drank their tea, but just like when she had been Underground the first time with Levi feeding her constantly, nothing ever seemed to be enough. And at nights, she took over the one queen-sized mattress in the bedroom while Zeyneb relegated herself to the old, flat couch in the living room for a bed and Leyla slept on the floor next to the only mattress.

"You know, I wouldn't have minded being the one on the couch, and you guys could've stayed in the bedroom," Petra insisted.

"Nah, it's funnier this way," Leyla declared. "This way you won't be the first thing people see when they walk in here. And it'll just look like I kicked Zeyneb out for being stupid or something. Convincing, eh?"

But one day far too soon, the sound of a polite knock on the front door was nevertheless massively jarring to the women huddled inside over the stove.

"Who's gonna answer it?" Zeyneb hissed, staring at Leyla. She blew out the flame burning under the pot of boiling water.

"Why're you asking me, you lil' wimp?" Leyla snapped back at her.

"You know you do better at lying," Zeyneb insisted with a pout. "Us two will hide in the kitchen." And she grabbed Petra by the shoulders and guided her to the pantry closet, swinging the door partly shut over her and looping a towel over the doorknob for added camouflage.

Petra stood awkwardly behind the half-closed door, her body pressed up uncomfortably against the wooden shelves full of various hoarded foodstuffs. The whole closet smelled musty yet sweet, like expired grains and dried fruit mixed together in close quarters.

But then she heard a familiar voice projecting through the wall that she never expected: Commander Erwin, respectfully asking for Petra. Confident, as if he already knew that she was there. And that could only mean that Levi had led him here—to rescue her at last.

Could it be that he's being manipulated, though? she dared to ask herself. What if there are a bunch of MPs leading him at gunpoint that I can't see?

In another moment, though, a boy's voice rang out: younger, a little less self-assured, but nevertheless endeavoring to be. Zeyneb demanded assurances that they had come alone, and Leyla talked her down.

And Petra heard all their footsteps entering the premises and drawing nearer, over the threshold of the kitchen, and pausing in front of the pantry door.

"Petra," Erwin's voice called out. "It's okay. I'm here of my own free will."

"Petra," the boy's voice spoke. "He's telling the truth. You know Commander Erwin would never sell out another Scout."

She took a deep breath, admitted to herself that he was right, and swung the door open. Erwin looked upon Petra for the first time since he had sent her home. And she looked different indeed, from her bleached-blonde hair to her ballooning pregnancy on her tiny frame. Similarly, Petra was meeting Armin again since being introduced to him at the memorial ceremony several months ago: a thinly-built teenage boy with an intermittent tremor of hesitation in his voice that belied the intelligence in his eyes. When realization flashed across her face, he gave a faltering smile.

"Hello, Petra," Armin greeted her. "A lot's changed, hasn't it?"

And she smiled wholeheartedly in return when she saw just how much had changed—how much this boy had grown in confidence in just a few short months. A Scout who had started out scared but determined, and now was very nearly ready to take on all the responsibility in the world. The longer one survived, the more strongly one believed in oneself. She saw that evolution in every newbie who grew to fit their boots, and the most dramatic changes like his were always the most fulfilling to witness.

Petra heaved a sigh as she slowly lowered herself onto a chair in the kitchen while Erwin and Armin took two more. Leyla and Zeyneb stood on either side of Petra to help her sit, then stood sentinel with their arms firmly crossed. And indeed, the lingering unease between Erwin and Petra was plainly palpable.

Zeyneb cleared her throat obnoxiously before speaking. "Well, then, Commander, I'd say you owe Petra a big apology for making her come back down here."

"It's hard enough if you're used to living here, but this girl ain't," Leyla added. "She's been wasting away since Day 1." And she gazed at Petra up and down, taking in her abnormally skinny sight with pity in her eyes.

Erwin pursed his lips. "Indeed. On behalf of the Survey Corps, and the government as a whole, you have my sincere apologies, Petra."

"Thank you," Petra responded blithely. "I figured you couldn't do anything about it at the time."

"I couldn't. I was locked up for this whole time myself."

At the mention of being locked up, Petra jerked her head up in sudden realization.

"What about Captain Levi?"

Erwin took a moment to compose his next words: "Unfortunately, soon after I was released, Captain Levi was taken into custody. He's being held under suspicion of domestic abuse against you."

"Domestic abuse and domestic violence," Armin added quietly.

Petra hung her head.

"I see."

A guilt-filled silence expanded to fill the room.

"I guess you could say I owe him an apology," she sighed.

Erwin eyed her carefully. "But if it's any consolation… the man who hurt you is dead."

She nodded listlessly and closed her eyes.

"I don't know what to say to that—whether that's good or bad. He said he was Levi's uncle, you know…."

"Yes. We know." And Erwin gave a tight smile in commiseration. "Family matters can be complicated. I suppose that Levi felt similarly conflicted." He gave a slow blink and when he reopened his eyes, he regarded her with a renewed intensity. "But you can visit him very soon—after we get you out of here."

She nodded and pushed her hair behind her ears. Erwin gave a tacit nod in return and got to his feet; Armin sprang to his feet in another heartbeat and pushed the chairs in while Erwin offered his hand to Petra to stand her up.

"Ladies," Erwin declared, "the Survey Corps is in your debt. If you should seek to improve your situations… mention me to any of the MPs on patrol. I'll see to it that you'll be well cared for."

He glanced at Armin, who took his cue to deposit their waterskins and a couple of canisters of luxury tea from his rucksack. Leyla's and Zeyneb's eyes lit up.

"I guess Levi's friends from back home would be just as passionate about their tea," Erwin chuckled with a hint of good humor now.

"We prefer 'neighborhood aunties,'" Leyla clarified, looking up momentarily from poring over the labels of the canisters clutched in either hand. "We let him think he can bully us into whatever he wants, but in the end… we run this 'hood."

"Leyla," Zeyneb muttered, prodding her in the ribs. "Give her that sh—stuff."

"Here, honey," Leyla said, pulling out a folded paper from her apron and pressing it into Petra's open palms. "For when the baby comes out."

Petra looked down into her hands and unfolded the paper to see a recipe in list form and a detailed explanation below for none other than "abortifacient tea."

"The last thing you want is to have two in a row."

Petra blushed a bright pink (all the worse that they should be talking about this in front of her Commander and his protégé), and she instantly raised her hands to cover her face. Erwin grunted politely and started to guide Armin back out into the living room.

Leyla shrugged. "Obviously I'm not the only one who makes this kind of tea. Surface people get it on, too. But I know mine at least tastes the best."

"How does that work?"

Leyla pinched her thumb and pointer fingers together to gesture: "I mix a little bit of my black tea with it. It masks the bitterness a bit. But just a hint of it—if the ratio of black tea to the rest of it is too high, it'll block the actual 'abortion' stuff from working." She had leaned in and whispered the word "abortion" into Petra's ear.

Petra nodded slowly. "I see…."

As Erwin, Armin, and Petra made their way to the Exit 10 stairs back to the Surface, Erwin slowed his pace as he approached the MPs standing guard at the foot of the stairs.

"Petra," Erwin began, this time seeming to have taken on the timidity in his voice from Armin. "I want you to know that I'm happy for you—and Levi. You both have my blessing."

She drew to a stop as she regarded him quietly.

"And I'm sorry I never made that clear."

She frowned. "You weren't upset? That I got knocked up and messed up the squad?"

Erwin nodded slightly to himself. "I admit that I was upset. But… not anymore."

He gazed off into the distance, past the heads of his two companions to regard the sight of the Underground—a place that literally glowed with mysterious beauty, illuminating the squalor within.

"I can see the effect you've had on him. He's… happy. He has another dimension of purpose in his life. Beyond our work, and our grim duties."

"Thank you, Commander. We like to believe that we made the right choice…."

And Erwin cast a loaded glance at Armin next to him, who stared at his feet.

"As do we."

As Lauro stood guard over Levi, Lauro's face was calculating and betraying no emotion. Victor came in a few minutes later, silently taking up a stand at the other end of the room.

Levi turned to address Lauro: "You're like a blond version of me. You know that?"

Lauro shrugged. "Heh. Maybe. But probably not as famous. And that makes me very effective."

And he pushed off the wall to approach the cell, eyeing Levi face-to-face while Levi sat up in bed.

"Everyone knows your accomplishments in the Survey Corps," Lauro noted. "But—you're also known to be a violent man."

Levi gave Lauro an unfriendly glare through the cell bars.

"Depends who I'm being violent to."

"How about Djel Sannes? One of our own, tortured at your hands, using our own methods?"

He raised an eyebrow for effect.

"Or Eren Yeager? One of your own—at least, someone you publicly beat into submission so he could fulfill the Survey Corps's agenda for him?"

"Maybe that's enough for tonight, Captain," Victor sighed, seemingly unafraid of making a suggestion to his superior officer. "He can answer that in court."

Levi laid back down on the bed and rolled over to face away from his onlookers.

"Well, Captain," Levi grumbled, "all I'll say for now is… it takes one to know one."

Levi lay awake that night in his jail cell, letting his frustration over his situation dissipate in the dimly lit silence. He thought about everything that had happened in recent days, from the present moment backwards, which inevitably led him to think again about Nifa: how she and Petra had not kept in touch, and how it was already too late. And he wondered whether that was his fault for telling Petra to make friends outside of the military for her own sake. Would things have been better if he had encouraged her to be a pen pal to the rest of the Scouts instead of leaving them all behind for new civilian friends? Would there have been more closure if she had remained as socially invested in the Survey Corps? Or less?

Nifa… saved my life, he thought to himself with a heavy heart. So I could make it home to her best friend.

And as Levi always did after a mission, he stared blankly at the ceiling as he lay on his back on the bed and recalled the faces of every casualty. Each member of Hange's section passed through his mind as he relived the last time he had spoken to them or seen them around. He worked hard to do every one of them justice, reflecting on the exceptional work that each one had done, some detail he remembered them mention about a family member, friend, or lover they had now left behind.

He saved Nifa's face for last, grimacing to himself again at how brutally her face had been destroyed. But he furrowed his brow and refocused on how she looked in life: smiling and giggling behind a furtive hand after whispering something in Petra's ear, and both women's eyes gleaming brightly at the shared object of their amusement.

And they would never fail to notice him looking their way, and their twin pairs of amber eyes would grow wide, staring into his for just a moment too long before the two gingers redoubled their giggling and lighthearted shoving. He should have known that all those times, they had probably been gossiping about him. And he felt a smirk come upon his lips as he started to understand what Petra had said about cherishing everyone around them, even after they die.

I'll remember her. I'll make sure of it.

Chapter 24: Judgment

Summary:

Erwin and Armin escort Petra back to the Surface. Levi faces judgment in the Military Court, forced to surrender his marriage to public scrutiny.

Notes:

Well, it turns out that I'm posting earlier than I thought I'd be able to! This chapter is a little shorter than my chapters usually are, but I think it ends at an appropriate place. Enjoy!

Another thing in case you haven't heard yet: some of us in the Rivetra community are creating a Rivetra Zine, and I am one of the planners/editors as well as contributors. See the links below if you are interested in reading the zine and/or contributing to it as well! The interest check is also for people who just want to read and get the merch (wink wink, there will be some merch, too!). Let us know your general preferences so we know what kind of content you want to see!

Chapter Text

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"So is est immer (Piano Cover)" – PianoDeuss

When Mr. Stratmann was summoned to Ehrmich District to potentially meet his daughter Carly again, he was disbelieving, skeptical, but nevertheless clinging to the faintest shred of hope. As he was processed into the Ehrmich Military Police Headquarters, he steeled himself for the woman he was there to see—whether she was Carly or not, he imagined the worst of images of a bedraggled waif with mangy hair and a scalp devoured by lice. And indeed, the young woman curled up on a flattened mattress behind bars was a pitiful sight, from her protruding pregnancy to her bleached-blonde hair to the listless pace at which she gnawed her loaf of bread. But when she gave a sniff and lifted her head to regard him through the cell bars, it was plain as day to him that she was a stranger.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Mr. Stratmann. I came to see if you might be my daughter Carly… but you're not."

And she smiled sadly and shook her head.

"How foolish of me to hold on to hope," he found himself murmuring aloud in his rising disappointment. "Perhaps I really will never see my daughter again." He scoffed. "Hell, for all I know... she may already be dead. Or otherwise even more hopeless than you."

Petra's eyes fell back down to the bread in her hands.

"I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled.

Mr. Stratmann found his hands digging into his pockets to produce a cigarette and matchbox—something to occupy his hands while his mind raced with the familiar thoughts of guilt.

"Maybe all this started because I let her be free to do as she pleased—to help me, hurt me, or destroy me. I don't know. She could have sat around and watched us struggle. But she helped us stay afloat when the family business couldn't."

He struck the match alight and nurtured the flame to the tip of his cigarette between his lips.

"But in the end, the reward I reaped was... to never see her again."

And he took a deliberately slow drag of the smoke, letting the scent consume his senses. Petra frowned at the smell of burning tobacco and retreated further away from him towards the head of her bed.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she offered in a somber voice. "I'm sorry I can't be her."

"No, it's fine," he murmured. "I reaped what I sowed. And I have no right to complain. She was never really free at all, when she was my daughter. There were many things she couldn't do. And I didn't understand that until I started to lose her."

She heaved an audible sigh through her lips as she chewed the last of her mouthful of bread.

"You know, Mr. Stratmann... there's still a chance she might still be alive." She shrugged. "If you never found her body, then anything is possible."

"Huh," he scoffed again. "You're a tough one to be able to say a thing like that."

She turned away for a moment to reach over for her mug of water she had wedged between her mattress and the head of the bedframe. A cockroach the length of her thumb raced away from her hand as she disturbed its approach for the same mug of water, and she frowned dispassionately and sighed yet again, then took a sip.

"Can it be enough for you to believe that she's still out there? Even if you may never know for sure?"

She set her mug back down, pinching it between her bare feet on the mattress this time.

"'Cause if you can," and she started nodding, "then maybe that's all you need to keep on living."

He took his cigarette out between two fingers to speak. "How remarkable is the power of belief." And he tilted his head back to contemplate: "So tell me, wise young lady: why is it so important that one keeps on living?"

When did I start feeling sorry for myself again? she asked herself now. And wallowing in my misery, instead of thinking of the next step? 'Cause that's what Captain Levi would tell me: think. And save myself.

At last, she lifted her head again and found the words to say:

"Because... because someone important to me told me to keep on living, too. I don't remember anymore... maybe I was the one who told them that." She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to make sense of the blurry memories in her head. "But... we keep on living to honor the dead. Everyone who died so that we could live."

Mr. Stratmann eyed her with a dullness in his own gaze while he took another drag.

"How optimistic. Just like all those soldiers, spouting their sacrificial propaganda."

She averted her gaze to the stones in the wall, twirling the crust of her bread between her fingers.

"Hell, maybe in another life, you were a soldier yourself," he concluded.

And she could not help but smile slyly to herself.

"In another life... maybe."

The Rals had nothing they could do but wait and see what had become of their daughter. When Levi and Petra's joint bank account was suddenly (but predictably) frozen by the bank, Mr. Ral became steely and taciturn with his unvoiced concerns, and Mrs. Ral wrung her hands with worry as she not infrequently did. Their neighbors whispered and pestered them for answers, but the Rals stood fast and kept to themselves as they waited anxiously for news and tightened their belts.

Lo and behold, one morning during breakfast, a polite knocking on the door shattered the painful uneventfulness in their daily lives. Mr. Ral's head snapped towards the door, his eyes wide.

"Try not to worry," Mrs. Ral sighed, getting to her feet and patting him on the shoulder. "They'll both be coming home soon. If that isn't already them."

Nevertheless, she answered the door with an anxious look on her face to find two Military Police officers on the doorstep. And after a stunned moment, she managed to blurt out, "Where's my daughter? And my son-in-law?"

"Not to worry, ma'am. Your son-in-law won't be coming home for now. We have him in a military holding cell in Mitras."

"What?" she gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth.

Mr. Ral was already at her side, getting even more agitated. "The whole reason we're worried is because we want him to come home already!"

"And what about Petra? Where is she?"

The MP doing the talking now pursed his lips uneasily.

"Commander Smith found her Underground. She is working on recovering as we speak." He glanced sternly at them in turn. "And in a couple days' time, we will require the testimony of at least one of you at Captain Levi's trial…."

"Eat slowly," Erwin ordered Petra with his usual sternness as they walked. "You could get sick if you eat too much too soon."

She smiled ruefully at her rescuers between chews of bread. "That sounds like something Captain Levi would say."

"And when it comes to transitioning out of starvation, he would know best," Erwin concluded, to which Armin solemnly nodded.

"How much longer till the courthouse?" she asked before taking another hearty bite.

Erwin and Armin both looked her up and down for an uncomfortably long moment, then exchanged loaded glances at each other.

"We're taking you to lodge at the Military Police barracks here in Mitras," Erwin said. "Eat. Take a shower. Get some rest. And you can go over and see him this evening."

"Shower…?" She paused when she realized that she had never actually taken a shower in her whole life: bucket baths and bathtubs were all she had ever known.

"You'd be surprised how nice the MPs have it," Erwin admitted. "I'd imagine you'd find it much more convenient. Especially with that growing belly…."

She sighed. "To be honest, I wish it would get bigger. In the past week or so, I feel like it stayed the same." She let one hand drift downward to rub her belly, and she took a sharp inhale to steady her anxiety when she realized that beyond the usual swishing around (which in itself was not as frequent as usual), she had not felt the baby kick all day. "And that's not good."

Erwin nodded grimly.

"Armin."

"Yes, sir?"

"Run along ahead of us and get some more food ready with the dining hall. Especially fruits and protein, if possible. And check if a physician is available. Especially if it's the one she usually sees."

Armin gulped nervously. "I'll check if she's still locked up."

"Indeed."

Petra and Erwin watched Armin hurry off down the street. She sniffed to herself and took another bite of bread, making her way steadily through the loaf.

"Can I see him when we get there?" she asked him.

"Eventually. Maybe tonight." He guided her to a nearby park bench and took a seat next to her, watching her with concern. "But you must take care of yourself first. He can wait—for both your sakes."

And his gaze drifted off to watch children and their young parents playing in the town square or resting on other benches with their armloads of groceries next to them.

"Imagine how he'd feel if he saw you now."

And although she was as desperate as ever to see Levi again, she knew in her heart that their Commander was right. He'd be outraged to see her starving, unbathed, and in the same clothes he had seen her in well over a week ago. To say nothing of her hair….

True to form, the Military Police dining hall was spacious, well-lit, and pristine. Petra gazed around appreciatively as she passed through the heavy wooden entrance door and made her way carefully down the steps. And she saw three familiar young faces sitting in a row watching her approach, bearing gifts in front of them at the table. Petra lit up a little more and called out to them:

"Armin! Mikasa! Eren!"

Erwin called out after her, "I'm sure they'll take good care of you," and stood quietly at the top of the stairs, looking on for a lingering moment before turning to exit.

"Here, Petra," Mikasa started, "I hope you like pears and pomegranates."

"And meat sandwiches," Eren added, passing her a plate with two sandwiches with thick cuts of steam-cooked meat nestled between slices of bread. "The MPs are living it up," he said, not without a tinge of resentment.

She gave a secretive smile, thinking to herself that they reminded her of something….

"I do, actually. Thank you."

Armin gave a tiny smile back and slid a full mug of beer across the table to her. "I don't know if you're allowed to drink beer if you're pregnant, but the only other option was wine."

Petra nodded in reassurance. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Thank you, Armin. I drank beer once earlier and nothing bad seemed to happen." She paused and grinned sheepishly. "Just don't tell Captain Levi, please. Okay?"

Mikasa nodded curtly. "We won't say a word."

"Good," Petra said, and she took her first sip and closed her eyes appreciatively at the taste of bubbly fermentation and the hint of oakwood flavor from its storage barrel.

A half-minute of quiet chewing of meat and sipping of beer occupied Petra while Armin, Mikasa, and Eren glanced awkwardly at each other. In all their heads, they inextricably linked her with Captain Levi and what they knew about him. And their Captain's wife was very much his opposite, yet also his perfect complement—which somehow made it more confusing whether to act casually or seriously around her. Out of all of them, Eren had only briefly met Petra once, and Armin had spent the last couple of hours with her. But somehow, Mikasa seemed the most at ease in Petra's presence, having run into her several more times than either of her friends had.

"So, Petra…" Mikasa ventured at last. "Now that we finally found you, they'll be scheduling the military trial for Captain Levi soon. What are you going to do?"

Petra sighed and set her mostly-eaten sandwich back down. "I'll do what I have to do: I'll get on the stand and explain everything."

Armin gave a tiny sigh of his own. "Yes, but you have to tread carefully. We've all been insisting that they've got it wrong, but there are some powerful people who wanted this trial—to put Captain Levi under public scrutiny. And I'm not sure if you know how close Eren came to being vivisected by the MPs instead of being accepted into the Survey Corps when they had his tribunal."

Eren let his eyes drop to the table surface. "Well, I guess that was on me. I got pretty carried away…. But Captain Levi stepped in and convinced Premier Zachary to let the Survey Corps take me in."

"Tch," Mikasa grumbled, gritting her teeth in lingering frustration. "Even so. I still can't believe what he did to you, Eren. Even if it achieved the desired result, he was way too rough on you to get there."

"It's fine, Mikasa. I healed up fast—and my tooth even grew back, too."

Mikasa continued to frown. "But he tortured you extra, just for fun."

"Did he really?" Petra asked, curling the corner of her mouth into an unamused smirk. "That's how he 'convinced Premier Zachary'?" She heaved a sigh and shook her head at his characteristic taste for gratuitous violence, then reached for the pear—the easier of the fruits to eat—and took a hearty bite into its skin, relishing the juices of its flesh.

Some things never change, she thought wryly to herself as she crushed the bite of fruit in between her teeth. But it's all right. I never asked him to, or expected him to….

Eren waved his hands, suddenly panicking at the mental picture no doubt blooming in her head. "No, it was fine. Really. I understood why he had to do it."

Petra's eyes narrowed. "Why did he have to do it?"

Armin grew pensive and offered his explanation: "To prove to the court that Eren wasn't a threat to humanity. That he could still be controlled—even if Captain Levi was the only one who could do it."

Petra nodded slowly, swallowing deliberately. "But isn't it a bit sad, though? That people think you need to be controlled?"

"What do you mean?" Eren said, more subdued now.

"I'm glad—selfishly so—that you're in the Survey Corps. Humanity needs your Titan power. But at the same time… I don't want you to lose your hopes and dreams over your duty to others." She picked absentmindedly at a piece of skin clinging to the core of the pear. "Eren. What do you want out of life?"

"What… do I want…?"

Petra gave a tiny nod. "Yes."

Mikasa chimed in just as somberly. "Yes, Eren. What do you want?"

Another uneasy silence grew as Eren contemplated to the sound of Petra's quiet chewing. At long last, he lifted his head again and declared:

"I want—freedom."

Armin smiled sadly at him. "You're always saying that, Eren. You talked about 'freedom to see the outside world.' Or 'freedom from the Titans.' Right?"

Eren scrunched down ever so slightly in his seat, seemingly cowed. He shot a furtive glance at Mikasa before staring back down at the wood grains in the tabletop.

"Right."

But Armin pressed on, now straying much closer to Eren's secret admission to him: "But what about the other thing you told me? About wanting to live as you please?"

And at this, Eren fell silent and continued to stare at the tabletop. Mikasa looked uncomfortable, realizing yet again that the two of them were talking about a private conversation they had had without her.

Petra spoke up again: "Well, whatever it is that each of you want… just know that every goal requires sacrifice. Whether from yourself, or from others."

And the silence among her three mentees continued, growing heavier with the weight of her words.

"Look at me," she sighed. "I know how I look. I had to bleach my hair. I haven't had a proper bath in two weeks. I'm starving. For the second time." She glanced down at the exposed meat peeping out from her half-eaten sandwich. "But I decided to keep on living, even though it hurt. Why is that?"

"Why?" Eren asked quietly.

"Because I have someone else who would hurt even more if I gave up and died."

And she nodded to herself.

"I think all three of you have been through a lot. Maybe all of you have thought about dying at some point in your lives." She shut her eyes and sighed. "But in the end, running away and dying is selfish. Whereas choosing to live for others… is the best thing you can do to honor them. You can let your duty to others limit you, or you can let it give meaning to your life."

All three were quiet again, somberly contemplative. Mikasa and Eren both shared troubled expressions while Armin looked on at both of them with an anxious expression of his own.

"That's why I joined the Survey Corps," Petra concluded. "And that's why I'm still alive."

Petra reached for the pomegranate for dessert, tearing surprisingly easily through the outer skin to reach the gleaming blood-red seeds within. She pried a single seed from the white, pulpy case and consumed it whole with a satisfying crunch between her teeth.

At the sound of his whispered name, "Levi" in Petra's timid voice, he bolted up in bed.

"Petra!" he hissed into the dark. He got to his feet at once and went to get a closer look at her between the cell bars, gripping the metal in his hands. "Are you okay?"

Petra frowned as she approached him from the other side of the bars. "Are you? You're the one behind bars, but you're asking me?"

He gave a dismissive jerk of his head. "Did they come after you? Is that why you ran?"

She wrapped her own hands around the metal bars, brushing her fingertips against his, and they gazed intensely into each other's eyes. Their noses were not quite touching, but they let their fingers intertwine around the metal between them.

"Yeah."

He hung his head for a long moment, then snuck a peek back up at her.

"Your hair's blonde," he noted bluntly.

"I know," she sighed. "I bleached it to disguise myself. But it didn't work." And she chuckled sheepishly. "'Cause I didn't bleach my eyelashes."

"Tch. Then at least you didn't burn your eyeballs out."

"Exactly."

As she regarded his familiar face through the dim torchlight, she thought back to his beating of Eren in the very military courtroom where Levi himself would soon face his own judgment. And she reflected again on his violent nature-something she had always known, and always accepted. But she was not surprised that his colleagues might not be as forgiving, especially if they happened to harbor a latent dislike of him for any other reason. She could foresee now how her and Levi's marriage was an easy target by which to discredit him. And those who wished to hurt him politically would not be easily beaten—and could not be simply beaten up. Sadly, Levi's way with words tended to agitate people more, rather than calm them down. So, she figured that it was most likely going to be up to her to do the talking.

They managed to share one more emotionally charged moment, this time with their noses touching between the cell bars, then one of the Military Police guards cleared his throat obnoxiously and approached them.

"Break it up, for fuck's sake," Lauro grunted, shoving the butt of his rifle in between Petra and the cell bars and pushing her backwards. "This ain't a conjugal visit."

She tottered in place for a second as she regained her balance (not helped by her heavy belly), then she crossed her arms and scoffed.

"Hey asshole, don't shove her around like that," Levi growled at him. "What if she falls and gets hurt?"

Lauro stared at them. "Hm. Point taken. Sorry about that." He gave a brief glance down at her belly as he calculated his thoughts in his head.

"Well," she huffed at Lauro, "if you'd just open the cell door and let me in, maybe it can be a conjugal visit," she teased him with just a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"No."

And she smirked at him and swayed her body with as much of an attitude as she could muster.

"That's too bad," she sighed with a toss of her blonde hair. "We would've given you a good show."

"It's fine," Levi grumbled. "It's his job to be an asshole."

"Takes one to know one," Lauro snorted in response; Levi flared his nostrils in annoyance.

The other MP, Victor, exited the room briefly and returned with a wooden chair. He set it down in front of the cell and motioned for Petra to sit, which she accepted with another heavy sigh.

"Thank you," she told Victor. "My feet are getting tired."

And Victor gave her a curt nod and retook his post at the wall.

Petra gazed up at Levi through the cell bars now, hugging herself in her mounting unease as she anticipated his blowup.

"So, I… went back Underground to hide. From the MPs."

And surely enough, Levi's hands gripped more tightly around the metal bars as he glared at her most disapprovingly.

"I busted my ass to keep you fed down there, and then a couple weeks later, you turn right around and go back down there with nothing?"

"They were killing Scouts in the street!" she snapped, feeling her face grow heated. "My best friend—my best friend—got her head blown off!" She took in a shaky gasp, feeling tears springing from the corners of her eyes.

"I know," he said quietly. "She died right in front of me."

"What...? What happened?"

A pained silence fell between them as his head drooped. Petra turned her gaze to the door as her fingers absentmindedly rubbed at her elbows.

"She looked like she was shot in the face," Petra continued. "But I don't know how. Or why."

"So you saw her body. Of course." He sighed. "She died for me. Because of me. 'Cause I made a mistake... and I pushed her down to save her, but she jumped in front of me anyway and took the hit for me."

Petra nodded miserably to herself as the words sank in.

"But—before she died, she told me to make it back home to you."

She closed her eyes, continuing to nod absentmindedly as the words stung her to the core.

He gave a long pause again before continuing, "And I have nightmares about it. I can't sleep."

"It looked horrible," she admitted. "I can't even imagine..."

He leaned forward a little on his elbows, bracing himself against the cell bars. "Turns out it was my uncle who killed her, too. Didn't know he was even my uncle 'till a day or two ago."

"I know. We've met."

A guilty look overcame him. "That's what I thought. He's the one who beat you. Wasn't he?"

There was a quiet stirring from the MPs standing guard, no doubt listening at rapt attention. Levi shook his head at the lack of privacy, but he supposed there was only more public exposure to be endured. And they had better just get used to it.

"Your uncle... who was he?" she asked quietly.

"His name was Kenny. He raised me for several years, after my mother died. And then he abandoned me one day... But I only found out his last name recently: Ackerman."

He gazed deeply into her eyes, watching her pupils dilate with dawning realization.

"Kenny Ackerman."

Petra's brow furrowed for a moment. "Like that girl Mikasa? Mikasa Ackerman?"

"That's right. She's related to him somehow... and to me, too."

They looked at each other ruefully for a while longer, sharing in their contemplation.

"I'm so sorry about everything," Petra murmured. "But—maybe we can bail you out. It'll probably just cost a little money, but..."

"Are you kidding?" he scoffed. "I'm stuck here without bail, they said. On account of my wife-beating ways."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess that does make sense."

"Yeah. So don't even bother asking. They're not gonna do shit." And he glared over very pointedly at each of his guards on either end of the room, only to be met with neutral stares back.

"I did already try to explain to them that this is all a big misunderstanding. But they're still moving ahead with the trial anyway."

Levi shook his head. "I'm fine; just leave me here for now. Save the money for the baby."

She frowned. "Do you think Commander Erwin would vouch for you?"

"He might. He might just be mellowing out."

And he paused.

"You know I'd never hit you."

"I know," she sniffed. "And I think that everyone we know would agree."

He closed his eyes and laid his face in the crooks of his elbows.

"But even if they do… the public scrutiny on both of us is still inevitable."

"I know," she sighed. "I'm really sorry again..."

He smiled sadly at her.

"I'm just glad you're safe."

They looked at each other with more rueful smiles through the cell bars, loosening up their anxieties the longer they spent before each other.

"I took a shower." She gave another, more furtive grin. "First time for everything."

Levi narrowed his eyes. "Where are you staying at that has showers?"

"The MP barracks. It's just next door."

He scoffed.

"Of course they'd have the cushy life," he muttered grumpily.

"Maybe when you get out… they'll let you stay there for a night, too. I can—ask about it…."

"First things first: I gotta prove my innocence."

She gave him a smirk, which somehow gave him a twinge of annoyance to see.

"Without insulting anyone," she felt the need to add.

He frowned petulantly back at her. "I know. But anyway… for now, go get some sleep."

Petra sighed again. "I will. I hope you can rest, too."

He gave a tiny smirk. "You know I suck at that. But for you, I'll try."

She reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. Her eyes sparkled as she beheld him one last time in parting.

"They sent for my father, too, you know," she told him as their hands separated. "We will clear your name. Okay?"

And he nodded at her as she turned and left through the door being held open for her.

It was already the night before Levi's trial, and Petra could have sworn she had been having trouble sleeping. Yet she opened her eyes without having realized that she had drifted off after all. Once again she found herself in a darkened room, with the candlelight having inexplicably burned itself out. And she could make out the dim outline of a familiar friend sitting at the foot of her bed.

"Nifa. Fancy seeing you here…."

Nifa's figure was now gradually illuminated by the candle flame rising back to life. She wore the military standard-issue pajama dress and woolen socks, not unlike what Petra wore underneath the bedsheets. But Petra's dress, although just as plain, was a special purchase from a local shop, given that the military did not have maternity sizes.

"I know, right?" Nifa chuckled, and she gazed around the austere room in fascination. "Who'd have thought we mere Scouts would ever get to see inside these hallowed halls of the Interior Police?"

Petra gave a faltering smile.

"It's funny: I had always thought that whenever I'd see you, I'd have so much to tell you. But now that you're dead..."

And she hung her head in shame.

"All of a sudden, I have nothing left to say."

But Nifa just smiled warmly back.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything: I already know."

The moment of truth had come at last: the military trial of Captain Levi, with all the top brass in attendance. The newly self-installed military government presided over the event. And Premier Zachary was now even more powerful than he used to be. Now he was the ultimate authority, and the final decider of all their fates.

Thankfully, they had dispensed with the humiliation of having Levi handcuffed to a metal pole. Instead, he was allowed to sit in a wooden chair, albeit with his hands still cuffed behind his back. Levi heaved a sigh and made himself as comfortable as he could in his seat for the day, and he cast his eyes around the courtroom to take account of everyone he readily recognized: Premier Zachary next to the soon-to-be-crowned Queen Historia, Commander Erwin and the other regiment commanders, Hange, Moblit, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Conny, Sasha, and of course, Petra and her father. And there was a contingent of Military Police officers behind Commander Dawk, standing at attention, and a variety of civilians whom he did not know (but he supposed had probably leveled some manner of accusation against him). And surely enough, the civilian crowd showed the least outward sympathy for him when he met their gazes. His innocence was going to be a tough sell indeed.

Premier Zachary cleared his throat and clasped his hands together in front of him, interweaving his fingers.

"Well, then. It's the top of the hour, and the main players are present. So, let's begin."

Zachary tilted his head slightly downward, causing the daylight to glint off his spectacles.

"I admit that I regret having to bring your private relationship matters out for public scrutiny. But Captain Levi, you are one of our highest-profile officers in any of the three regiments. And we cannot have the public's perception of your private matters have a negative effect on the overall reputation of the military."

Levi heaved a sigh through his nostrils as he gazed blandly up at Zachary.

"Therefore, we must discuss any and everything relevant to these allegations if you wish to clear your name—as well as repair the damage that has been done to our public image."

"Understood, sir."

Zachary gave a curt nod. "So. You and Petra Ral are legally married. That much is common knowledge. But that does not automatically clear you from suspicion of domestic abuse. Or domestic violence."

He cleared his throat as he scanned through the legal documents before him.

"If I recall correctly, the news of Petra's pregnancy was quite the scandal at the time…." He adjusted his glasses to peer down at her now, to which she felt herself begin to blush in response. "But there were no complaints from you back then about Captain Levi's behavior, Petra."

Petra pursed her lips in discomfort. "No, sir. Our… relations have always been… consensual."

Zachary turned his head to regard her more squarely head-on.

"Oh? Even though a sexual relationship between an officer and his direct subordinate is technically an imbalance of power?"

It was now Petra's turn to sigh. "We admitted our feelings for each other years ago. Before he was even promoted to Captain."

"But then he was promoted. And when he formed his Special Operations Squad, he made sure to include you. Captain Levi, what do you have to say for yourself about this?"

Levi closed his eyes as he recalled those painful times—the months and years of self-deprivation, and self-sacrifice.

"As soon as I was informed of my promotion, I told Petra that we couldn't be together anymore. At least… unless she was promoted to Captain someday, too. And from then on, I never looked at her, or touched her, or gave her special treatment in any way."

Zachary crossed his arms. "And yet you could not restrain yourself, in the end. You slept with her at a time when she was your direct subordinate. And we all know the result."

Levi narrowed his eyes in mounting frustration. "She was a vital member of my squad, and we wouldn't have worked nearly as well without her." He took a moment to refocus himself and calm himself down. "And we found out how it went without her, after she had to leave…."

A moment of solemn contemplation hung in the air.

"You are known to be highly loyal to Commander Smith and the mission of the Survey Corps," Zachary began again. "I've already spoken extensively with him on your professional conduct, and he spoke of you in the most glowing terms. You should be flattered. However... you are also known for favoring violent means to achieve your goals. Would you agree?"

Levi shrugged. "I can't say I disagree."

"Not too long ago, many of us did see you beat a recent Cadet graduate, Eren Yeager, to a bloody pulp right here in this very courtroom."

At this, someone from the civilian section shouted out, "That's right, Captain Levi! Not too long ago, you were beating up Eren Yeager and calling me a pig!"

"Quit lying through your teeth, claiming you care about Petra," Levi snapped at the man. "Where was this concern for her well-being when your MP lackeys were hunting her down all the way from Trost to Ehrmich?"

Zachary thumped the desktop with his broad hand. "Order! Enough!"

And he leaned forward onto his elbows and interlaced his fingers once more.

"So, Captain Levi: what evidence do you have for yourself that you treat your wife differently than you once treated that young man?"

Levi frowned. "I would never hit her. She has no bruises or other marks from injuries."

Zachary cleared his throat and flipped into the stack of papers in front of him. "On two occasions within this past month, your wife was reported by civilian observers to have bruises on her neck."

Levi's frown now progressed into a scowl of humiliation.

"The first time were just… hickeys."

A hushed murmuring and snickering swept through the audience, and he noticed Petra attempting to cover her cheeks to hide her blushing. Nevertheless, he had no other choice but to press on, gritting his teeth.

"And the second time… that was my uncle's doing. Kenny Ackerman of the Military Police. I'm sure you've heard of him." And his voice shook with outrage as he finished with, "I never choked my wife."

"Not even in bed, huh?" someone else in the audience sniggered.

"No."

"Quiet!" Zachary grunted with another smack of his hand. "Order in my courtroom."

Commander Pyxis leaned in towards Zachary and added, "At any rate, she also appeared to heal quickly from said bruises. Little harm done, in the long run."

Zachary grunted and turned to address Petra now.

"Petra. Did you feel coerced in any way to begin a sexual relationship with Captain Levi?"

Petra sighed to herself.

"Captain Levi never forced himself on me; he never behaved inappropriately towards me in any way. He accepted his promotion and continued a strictly professional relationship with me for four years."

She looked to Levi, who was staring back at her. They shared a brief, mournful moment as they recalled how hard it had been for both of them to spend four long years so close, and yet so far apart.

"In the end, I was the one who couldn't live with the way things were. So I… well…."

Zachary heaved a sigh.

"And Mr. Ral. You are Petra's father. What do you have to say regarding your daughter's relationship with Captain Levi?"

Mr. Ral gave a sheepish scratch of his head while he grimaced. But when he spoke, his voice remained steady: "Like I said in the deposition I gave the Military Police, sir, I stood by my daughter's decision. And I found Captain Levi to be more than a suitable husband for Petra." He gave a small smile to Levi. "And, in fact… the best son-in-law a father could ask for."

Zachary gave a nod.

"I see."

At this, Pyxis leaned in towards Zachary again and declared, "I have it on good authority that Captain Levi is an upstanding husband."

"Oh? And where is the evidence for that?"

Pyxis cleared his throat with a fist at his lips. "That would be confidential, sir. You'll just have to trust me."

Zachary groaned. "You're killing me, Pyxis."

And something shifted in his countenance, away from stern scrutiny and towards a sense of approval.

"Well. In the end, all I can do is commend you two for the self-restraint you did show. Thank you for your service to humanity—both of you. And I daresay we've embarrassed you enough by airing your relationship matters publicly here. For that, I do apologize. But know that it was necessary to ensure your continued safety, Petra."

He leaned forward on his elbows to regard both of them in turn.

"After all, Captain Levi, you have recently learned that your family name is 'Ackerman.' Based on the fighting skills that both you and Mikasa Ackerman have demonstrated, it is abundantly clear that our soldiers with Ackerman lineage are invaluable to humanity. And the next generation of Ackermans is already in your hands. So naturally, any matter concerning your family is of great importance to the military."

At hearing this finally spoken out loud by the head of the military, Petra pursed her lips as her body tensed. Her hands made their way protectively around her belly, as if to cradle her baby inside. The baby moved, churning slightly as it responded to the stress in her body, and she rubbed her thumb reassuringly on the fabric of her dress hanging taut over it.

"It is our hope that by the time your child comes of age, we will no longer need them to fight for humanity. But if we do, we will be grateful to have them."

Petra found her way to Levi once more, gazing over at him, and him at her. She saw a grim stoicism in his eyes that she knew well: the look that said there is more to be endured; still more to be sacrificed. Even though their baby had not yet been born, its fate had already been spoken for—all because of what they, the parents, had done to seal their own fates. They were Scouts: they served humanity. And going off duty or even retiring altogether could not save their unborn child from following in their footsteps, whether by choice or by conscription.

With the court dismissed and Levi finally sprung free of his handcuffs, Levi fell into a tight hug in Petra's arms. But in another moment, he muttered, "Wait here a second" and hurried after Pyxis, leaving her speechless and confused.

"Commander Pyxis," Levi said, stopping him in his tracks. "I need to know: what was this 'good authority' you were talking about?"

And Pyxis spent a long moment chuckling and clapping Levi on the shoulder.

"Any man who pays a visit to my establishment is a good man in my book. I believe it appeared to be your honeymoon? I hear your lovely wife turned heads with the engagement ring on her finger..."

Levi groaned inwardly.

"I guess nothing is too secret for military court..."

Pyxis gave another chortle. "I'm afraid not, son. But hey, not even Zachary has to know. Buuut if you hadn't checked that little box keeping it 'secret', we might very well have presented your visit in front of the whole court as documented evidence."

Levi scoffed, "Well, thank God for that."

Pyxis shook his head ruefully.

"On the contrary: it would have been quite entertaining!" he cackled, prompting an ill-disguised sneer of disgust from Levi.

"Are we done here, then? Am I excused?"

"Of course! You're the one who wanted to talk to me. I daresay you can leave whenever you want! And now you have to make up with your lovely wife."

And not even the best possible outcome of that day could stop Levi from glowering at his most ardent supporter.

"Duly noted. Sir."

Chapter 25: Moonrise

Summary:

With their legal troubles behind them, Levi and Petra rest at the Military Police barracks, attend Queen Historia's Coronation, then visit a familiar inn on their journey home.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for your patience with this next chapter. I've been through a lot in the last two months since I posted, but I've come out for the better: moving to a different place (same region, but different housing), several weeks of job searching while recovering from COVID, and ending up with a new job that is a much better fit for what I need and want, now and moving forward.
Anyway, I hope you are all doing well out there, and I hope you enjoy reading as always.

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"White Silence" – Ling tosite sigure (Tokyo Ghoul OST)

After finally extricating himself from Pyxis' jolly cackling, Levi wended his way through the crowd milling about and whispering amongst themselves. And he could not help but overhear certain things being said by the military attendees, who lingered around even as the civilians filed out shaking their heads or shrugging and moving on with their lives. Sadly, being freed from his handcuffs did not free Levi from the gossip from the MPs.

"Wait, so Kenny Ackerman was his uncle this whole time?" an MP questioned, scratching his head.

"Kenny the Ripper? Damn. Well, I guess it explains where he got it all from," another MP next to him snorted. "He'll slit your throat as soon as say hello." And he nodded slowly to himself as his eyes glossed over, replaying all the gossip he had accumulated in his head about the mighty Captain Levi over the years and recalling them in an even more judgmental light than before.

The first MP shrugged. "Yeah. Just look at the guy." And he sighed. "Honestly, I thought that trial should have gone on much longer. Did we even talk about half the documents that the Premier had in his hands?"

Both men turned their heads at a stern throat-clearing from a fellow Military Police officer with a sharp bowl cut, accompanied by a woman MP with tawny, wavy hair who seemed mildly amused with the situation. While the woman was clearly of a more carefree attitude, the man gave off an aura of pure seriousness. In fact, he could be called unassailably professional—especially for an MP.

"I believe that Premier Zachary looked it all over and he already accounted for them in his final decision," Marlo declared. "And it didn't matter what anyone else would have said about it."

The MP scoffed. "Huh, you got that right. All he needed was for Commander Pyxis to put in a good word, and it was decided! What a joke…."

Hitch wagged her finger at the men. "But you know, though… even guys like Captain Levi who'd beat the crap out of anyone else can be surprisingly good to their women. They're the one exception, you know?"

"Oh, so now all of you are drooling Captain Levi fans, too?"

She shrugged. "Heh. Maybe. I mean, you can't help but admire a guy who knows his priorities. It wouldn't hurt you to take a page out of his book from that chapter, Marlo…."

Unfortunately, however, Hitch's meaning seemed to go over Marlo's obtuse head, as he was already eyeing a certain someone tucked between other casual bystanders milling around them. Much to Levi's chagrin, Marlo made his way over to him and addressed him directly:

"Captain Levi!" And Marlo gave his most respectful salute. "Congratulations on your release."

Levi gave a bland smirk and crossed his arms. "Thanks, Marlo."

Marlo gave a nod. "Hitch and I both wrote statements in your defense. And we wanted to be here to vouch for you, just in case you needed our support."

"Eh, but you ended up just fine, Captain, so we didn't even really need to be here," Hitch sighed, flippantly preening her hair with her hand.

Marlo glanced over at her with his most reprimanding stare. "Even so, Hitch, it was an honor to be present in this court."

Levi rolled his eyes. "It might've been better if you hadn't been here for all that dirty laundry, to be honest. Just forget everything you heard here today."

"Not at all, sir!" Marlo insisted. "It was very important for the public to know that your personal life is beyond reproach."

"You're damn right," Levi grunted. "Assholes oughta stop making up bullshit to slander me with behind my back."

The two other MPs glanced furtively at each other and traded sighs in resignation as they stalked off. One of them made a sliding hand motion over his neck and nodded at the other, who sniggered into his hand.

"Captain," Marlo continued, "I wanted to inform you that I submitted my request to transfer to the Survey Corps. I sincerely hope it is met favorably."

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Good to know. I'll check in with Commander Erwin about it."

And Hitch rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and tapping her fingers on her biceps.

"Thank you, Captain," Marlo said. "I look forward to being of continued assistance to the Survey Corps."

Levi nodded. "Thank you, too, for all your help back then. We'll keep it in mind."

"But it kinda wouldn't be so bad if you didn't," Hitch sighed. "On the other hand."

"You're trying to sabotage my candidacy publicly now?" Marlo snapped at her. "Never mind. I can't expect you to understand."

"Talk it out, you two," Levi advised them, propping his hands on his hips. "Take it from a married man: don't leave things unsaid." He turned to Marlo to say, "I'm sure you know what you're getting into, Marlo: being a Scout is the most dangerous job there is. If you really plan to join us without her…."

He narrowed his eyes to underscore the gravity of his point.

"Be prepared. Both of you."

And Captain Levi gave Marlo a pat on the side of the arm and a nod to Hitch in parting before making his way back to Petra Ral, his beaming wife with an angelic gleam in her blonde hair, now standing next to her father, waiting to welcome him home.

Be prepared, Levi thought to himself as he looked at her. Prepared for what?

She smiled at him again, even more broadly this time.

"What?" she asked him. She slowed to a stop to look back at him and frowned.

Be prepared to say goodbye. Every time. Just in case.

"Nothing."

"I still can't believe you bleached your lovely hair," Mr. Ral sighed, shaking his head as the three of them walked together down the front steps of the courthouse and alighted on the cobblestone road.

"Same here," Levi grumbled. He reached out and lifted a lock of her hair to inspect it between his fingers. "Tch. Your hair's brittle and dead now. You wanna shave it off and start over?"

"No!" Petra pried his fingers off her hair and frowned petulantly at him. "I've done enough crazy things to my appearance. Just let the roots grow out. Whatever."

"And let you have two-toned hair for the next year? You'll look even crazier, sweetie," Mr. Ral chuckled. "Maybe we can dye it back somehow?"

"I don't care," Petra sighed. "I'm pregnant and tired. Aren't you?" she asked them; they stared at her bemused. "Tired, I mean!" she exclaimed, setting her fists on her hips. "For heaven's sake. I'm going back to the MP barracks. Father… what do you want to do?"

"I'm going home!" Mr. Ral declared. "All's well and good with the two of you, so I have some good news for your mother." He paused. "And plenty of work waiting for me!" he laughed and sheepishly scratched his head.

Mr. Ral extended a hand to Levi, who took it and gave a brief shake.

"Captain: congratulations again on your release. I'm as relieved as a father could be." And he grinned with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Whatever the plan is, do bring her home eventually, all right?"

Levi gave a smirk as their hands parted. "That's the plan. The Queen's Coronation is probably tomorrow or the day after, so I'll stay for that. Now that they've figured out what to do with me."

And he turned to Petra to add: "Petra. You're invited, too. If you want."

She gazed down at her belly and rested her hands on either side of it for some self-reassurance, rubbing with her thumb to seek out a sign of inner life. And the baby obliged, shoving its tiny foot outward against her hand. She pursed her lips at the momentary discomfort, then sighed through her nose in relief.

"Having this belly at a special event?" she sighed as she pressed back on the baby's foot. "That's… okay. Right?"

Mr. Ral barked in laughter. "Of course it is! You're gonna look as regal as the Queen."

And he waved in parting and made his way through the street towards the Southern Gate—to Ehrmich, Wall Rose, and Trost at the end of the journey. Petra watched her father disappear into the crowd, feeling relieved to see the spring in his step again. If her father was perfectly happy to leave her in the care of her husband—and her Captain—then all would be well again. Wouldn't it?

"How are you?" Levi asked her at last. "How do you feel?"

When she turned to take in the sight of him again, he was staring at her. His gaze was sharp with growing concern, glancing between her face and her belly still cradled in her hands.

"Can we sit on the steps for a minute?" she asked, motioning to the stairs leading up to the barracks. He helped her to sit down on the stairs and took a seat beside her while she heaved a sigh and extended her sore legs on the downward steps in front of her.

"Well?" he asked her again, still observing her face. She gave another smile, more falteringly now.

"You two really do resemble each other," she said. "You and Mikasa Ackerman."

At the mention of her again, he pursed his lips and turned to gaze off into the street. He propped his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hang limply.

"Our baby got conscripted into the military before it even got out of my womb. Because of you and her," Petra continued. She stared down at her belly with a pensive frown on her lips. "How do you think I feel?"

He sighed and hung his head.

"I'm sorry."

"People should be able to choose what they do in life. Not be told what they can or cannot do, just because of who they are. Or who their parents are."

"I agree. But if you recall… I was forcibly enlisted, too. More or less."

She nodded slowly. "And if you hadn't been, you would still be Underground."

"That, or executed."

A grim silence hung between them as their eyes met again. Finally, Petra said:

"I think we should just—relax. And rest. And stop worrying about the future, you know?"

He got to his feet and dusted off the seat of his pants. "If I want to eradicate the Titans before our baby grows up, then I got work to do." He offered a hand to her to help her back to her feet as well. "But for now… you're right. We deserve a break."

"And we're gonna get it," she declared, finding it in her to smile again.

"You know, though," he continued, turning his head to the door of the barracks. "That trial… was both easier than I thought it'd be, and more embarrassing than I thought it'd be."

She giggled to herself and hid her grin behind one hand. "That's true. There were so many other embarrassing things they could have said... But Zachary cut to the chase and made his decision."

And he sighed heavily to himself.

Tch. I can't believe I have to be grateful to a dirty old man like Pyxis….

"Well," he concluded, "I can't complain about a good thing."

They let themselves into the barracks building with a key that Petra produced from a pocket of her dress. In typical Levi fashion, he could not help but scowl at the state of the hallway. The wooden floor underfoot was not anywhere near as immaculately swept as he made sure things were kept in the Survey Corps barracks, but it seemed he had no choice but to tolerate the mediocrity of their hosts.

"Are you sure it's okay that I stay here, too?" Levi asked her. "'Cause no one said they had a room reserved for me."

"Oh, I don't see why not," Petra shrugged. "It's not like you're taking up another room or anything, hm?" she asked him with a sly smile.

"I dunno. Is there room for a second person in your bed?" He paused to regard her bulging belly underneath her dress. "Or a third?"

"Heh," she chuckled to herself. "I'll ask them for a cot on the floor. How about that?"

"How about not," he said, pulling her into an embrace from behind. He could not help but catch a whiff of her hair, and the scent caused him to scrunch up his nose. "Your hair smells dead, too, you know."

"Whatever!" she huffed and wriggled her body out of his arms. "I'm sure you and I could both use a nice, warm shower!" she proposed, in a lighter tone of voice now. "How about that?"

And he grimaced a little. If anyone should feel embarrassed about their current state of hygiene, he knew it was certainly him. But fortunately, she did not seem to either notice or care.

"Well, I've never taken a shower before, so.…" And he inched in closer to her again and murmured in her ear, "You'll have to show me how it's done."

She gave a satisfied grin and furtively took him by the hand. "I will!"

In the locker room, she showed him where to find towels and where to deposit his clothes to take advantage of the complimentary laundry service that the MPs had offered her during her stay.

"I don't even know why I bother trying to wear a towel anymore," she muttered to herself and opted to drape a towel over her shoulders. The ends of the towel managed to cover her breasts, but they only just barely reached her hip level after having to go around her belly.

"You look fine. No one else is here. And if they are, then they can mind their own business," he assured her as he fixed his own towel around his waist and looked back up at her when he was done mere seconds later. She secretly envied how easily men had it: no getting pregnant, no lugging around a huge belly for nine months and growing too inconveniently large around to fit into clothes that had fit a mere month ago….

Nevertheless, she nodded absentmindedly and gave his hand a tug towards the door to the shower area.

Fortunately, it was still early afternoon, so the showers seemed to be deserted for the time being. She grabbed a wooden stool next to the stack of them by the door and wandered down the long, tiled floor until she chose a stall halfway down the row and pulled him in to show him how the knobs worked.

"Look, the knob on the left is hot water, and the one on the right is cold. You can turn them both on at the same time to mix hot and cold together and make it just warm, but not hot," she explained.

"Got it. Thanks."

And without another word or gesture, he was already disappearing around one of the dividers between the stalls by the time she had turned her head to look at him again.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"I'm showering by myself," he declared. "I haven't bathed in a week."

She grinned to herself. "Do you think you're too dirty for me?"

She heard a muted rustling of fabric as he presumably took off his towel to hang it on the hook on the divider.

"I probably am."

And she grinned even more widely and lifted her own towel off herself. "Understood, Captain."

Levi found showering to be incredibly intuitive and he finished quite quickly, soon finding himself with nothing else to do but steal peeks at Petra over the partition between their stalls. But she seemed to be too preoccupied with the task of cleaning her own body to notice his eyes on her.

Meanwhile for Petra, she could not help but sigh wearily to herself as the sound of Levi's showerhead turning off signaled to her just how much slower she was at even this basic task of hygiene maintenance. She briefly rinsed the soap out of her hair, turned the water off, and continued to lather herself from top to bottom, over the bulging surface of her belly, past her belly button now popping outward and around the lower half that she could not even see. She got as far as her thighs until his hand grasped hers and wiggled the soapy washcloth out of her clutches.

"What are you doing?" she whined, reaching to retake the washcloth to no avail.

"I'm done already. Let me help you," he insisted. He dropped a stool of his own right next to her, took a seat uninvited, and shoved her hand back down to hang at her side.

"I'm okay; I can do it myself…" she mumbled, her voice trailing off.

"You could, but it'd be easier to let me help you."

She sighed again in defeat, leaned her head forward, and closed her eyes. But when she felt his hand guiding the washcloth between her legs, she opened her eyes again and turned to stare directly at him over her shoulder.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" She coyly pulled her legs closed to trap his hand.

"Not exactly…." He leaned in until his nose touched her cheek. "Not intentionally…."

"Weren't you the one who went back over to me first?" she teased.

"Guilty as charged," he growled and went in for a kiss on the lips. She squeaked a little into his mouth, but surrendered to him willingly, pulling his shoulder in to bring him in even closer.

"Getting handsy in the shower," she giggled between kisses. "Maybe this is why they locked you up."

"More like this is why they let me out," he mused, thinking about how their honeymoon had miraculously served as evidence in his favor.

"I don't really get it, but—oh well," she sighed. And he interrupted any half-formed questions in her head with another full-bodied kiss.

"Wait," she whined after a minute of making out. "I didn't even clean myself yet—"

And she let loose a moan at the touch of his soapy fingers sliding down her folds between her thighs.

"I got it," he assured her, and he continued to kiss her while he made his way along her curves, scrubbing down each leg, foot, and toe with the soapy washcloth.

"Did you shampoo your hair already?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Good."

He turned the shower back on, dousing her in warm water for a minute or so, rubbing out the soap suds from her skin while rinsing the washcloth in the water behind her.

"You know, we are still in public," she pointed out, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was there. Fortunately, they were still alone.

"So? We're just taking a shower. Everybody does it." He wrung the excess water off the washcloth and hung it on a hook.

"We can go to my place. How does that sound?"

"Sounds even better."

They covered Petra's bed with extra towels, and although they were barely dried off from their showers, they wasted no time in getting dirty all over again. He lifted her onto the bed, still covered in her towel, and even though he took his own towel off with a simple tug, she conversely pulled her towel more securely over herself like a blanket and grinned mischievously.

"Remember when I used to call you 'Captain' all the time?" she mused before biting the corner of her towel with her two front teeth.

"Yeah. You'd even call me that in bed." And now that he was on the bed next to her, he kissed her on the side of her neck.

She closed her eyes and smiled in contentment at the touch of his lips. "Hmm, do you miss those days? When I was... 'subordinate' to you?"

He continued to caress her, making his way down and around her shoulder with his hand to slowly tease her towel off. "It did feel a little naughtier."

"You mean a little… sexier?"

In between planting feathery-light kisses up the side of her throat, he murmured, "Aren't forbidden things always just a little—bit—sexier?"

Their lips met again; she fed him a low moan into his mouth. And the anticipation in her voice was encouragement enough for him. He pulled her up onto her hands and knees and he was already kneeling on the bed behind her, pulling her hips in towards his.

"Wait," she gasped, lying down again before he could enter her. "We got all the time in the world."

"God, you're such a tease," he grumbled, but nevertheless he spooned her from behind and slid his fingers up between her legs instead.

"Yes," she breathed. "Touch me…."

And she moaned eagerly as he moved his fingers up and down along her clit, coaxing her wetness out of her entrance. He was fully hard against the small of her back, pressing himself against her as if to whet her appetite for the main course soon to come.

"You know," she panted, "this kinda reminds me of our honeymoon... But in reverse, since we already—bathed first."

He suddenly stopped and pulled away out of frustration, forcibly reminded about what Pyxis had said.

"That dirty old man," he grumbled barely audibly to himself.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

He sighed in defeat and slid his hand back in between her thighs.

"Nothing."

And she gave yet another moan as she surrendered to his touch again, quite forgetting that he had ever said anything.

"I can't wait to go home." He sighed in between voluptuous kisses, long and deeply up the side of her neck as she sighed in contentment. But when realization dawned on her, she froze and whipped her head around to shoot him a scowl of displeasure.

"Don't give me hickeys!" she snapped. "Wasn't one week behind bars enough?"

He groaned in frustration into her ear. "Fine."

And thus, he focused exclusively on doubling down on rubbing her in between her folds, silencing any hint of protest from her lips. The sound of her pleasure rising higher and higher with the pitch of her breathy voice only egged him on more and more. And when she squeaked desperately as she approached orgasm, he pushed her up onto all fours again and entered her from behind, taking her the rest of the way there with his fingers so he could feel her clutching rhythmically around him while he was inside her. He found himself already breathless at the heady intensity of his pleasure, and he slammed his eyes shut to focus just on that sensation of their bodies conjoining. Every single time together like this might never come again, and he wanted to savor it and hear that sexy voice of hers—no matter what anyone might think if they could hear them through the walls. And he was soon rewarded with an orgasm so explosive that he inadvertently left bruises where his fingertips dug into the sides of her hips, and a barely stifled squeal of ecstasy from her lips as she orgasmed in response to his.

"Shit," he panted, pulling himself out of her still hard. "I gave you bruises. Sorry."

"What?" She lifted her head and craned her neck as far as she could. Surely enough, she could already see dark red finger marks along each side of her butt where he had clutched around her. And she groaned in disappointment and buried her face in her forearms.

Worse still, when they hastily dressed themselves, stumbled over to the communal bathroom, and looked in the mirror, she gasped when she saw a familiar string of reddish-purple sunbursts sprouting down the side of her neck. Levi stood off to one side of her, looking even more flustered than before.

"Domestic violence!" she sniffed half-jokingly and rubbed fruitlessly at the marks on her skin.

"Hey, you were loving every second of it."

She turned and pouted at him. "So you said you'd never hit me, but you will give me bruises? Again?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, you were thinking with your other head. When will you ever learn?" she huffed. "This is what people saw when they thought you were abusing me! God…."

"I didn't realize it would look this bad afterward..."

By this point, he was standing behind her again, hugging her and resting his chin on her shoulder. He glanced timidly up at her reflection in the mirror, silently praying away the displeasure on her face.

"But in my defense," he insisted, "you are pretty damn hard to resist."

And somehow, she found it hard to continue being mad at him when he held her the way he did. He kissed the base of her earlobe in apology.

"I was in jail, Petra," he teased. "Can't I get at least a little desperate?"

She heaved a sigh and regarded him through the mirror with her eyes half-open.

"No more hickeys," she declared. "But…."

And she turned her head to take him in directly, touching her nose to his.

"I'll choose to be flattered—just this once."

A sly smirk formed on his lips.

"You should be."

And before they knew it, they were kissing yet again, their lips melding smoothly together.

Throughout Queen Historia's Coronation, the crowd was so energized that it paradoxically seemed to have a draining effect on Petra: the more excited they got and the more they cheered, the more clearly the vague dullness in her forehead morphed into a full-on headache. She wore a dress her father had brought her from home: a simple yet respectable-looking maternity dress covered in pastel pink roses on a light green background. And when she blinked while looking down at her belly, the pink roses faded in and out of focus.

"I'm not usually like this. I usually have more energy than this," she insisted to Levi as she clung to the sleeve of his hunter green jacket, her breathing growing labored. She caused the whole left side of his body to sag with her weight, and he sighed and straightened his shoulder back up. She sighed, too, and hung her head and closed her eyes, but she felt his arm wrapping around her shoulders to steady her before she slumped to her knees.

"What's wrong?" he asked her in a sharp voice. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"I—I dunno—just a headache," she mumbled.

"Let's go," he decided at once. "And find a quiet place to rest."

She plodded along for several paces, still wrapping her arms around one of his own.

He turned to her and pursed his lips in rising concern.

"I can carry you. Maybe that'll help."

But she shook her head insistently.

"I'm fine—I'll be—fine…."

As her head grew even dizzier than before, she felt him hoist her up in his arms and hold her close.

Some way or another, she found herself slumped next to Levi on a café bench while he plied her half-open lips with slices of pear.

"If you're awake, eat," he ordered her.

She sat up slowly and took the pear slice in her hand, munching on it slowly and tasting its ripe juices on her tongue.

"Drink this, too," he added and lifted a mug of a cold beverage to her lips. She swallowed the rest of the pear slice and tilted her head back, wrapping her hands around his own hand gripping the body of the mug. It was a fruit juice with a refreshing tang and a fragrant aroma.

"Not tea for a change?" she mused with a grin between gulps.

"Tea's next," he muttered and gave a tiny jerk of his head towards two steaming cups on the little table with dark leaves unfurling underneath the surface of the water within. "Cool your body down a bit first. Your skin felt hot."

"You think of everything," she sighed. A tiny, contented smile lingered on her lips, and she closed her eyes again and leaned into him to touch the tip of her nose to his cheek as he turned his head to look at her again. "Tea dates are the best," she whispered.

He sighed in an audible huff. "They'd be a little better if you weren't passing out in the street," he pointed out. "How do you feel now?"

"Pregnant," she moaned, reaching for another slice of pear on the tiny saucer before her. "I finally—feel—pregnant."

He scoffed. "Well, it only took you five months or so. Good thing you waited till I was around."

"Of course I waited," she murmured as she chewed, then swallowed. "All I do is wait. Wait for you… to come home again."

And she felt him grow still, sitting so close that their bodies touched, but feeling distant all over again. Even without metal bars keeping them apart, there was always something to pull him away from her—or her from him.

"I know." And he nodded slowly, reaching his arm around her to hug her to him even more tightly than before.

Upon exiting the café, Petra started to feel well again when the sunlight hit her face, warming her cheeks.

"The sun feels nice," she sighed and squeezed around his arm with her own arms intertwined around him. "I feel like a little houseplant that just needed some more light."

Levi glanced at her with a skeptical look. "We were outside under the sun all morning during the ceremony, but you felt sick anyway. Probably because we were in the sun so long."

"Oh, I don't know," she grumbled, stepping deliberately along so as not to trip on the cobblestones. "I'm just saying it feels good, that's all."

"Hm," he muttered, mostly to himself as he guided her. "I admit it does feel good. For me, too."

A half-formed thought danced through her mind as she peered over into his eyes gazing back at her.

"There's no sunlight Underground," she said slowly. "But there is up here."

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah… everyone gets sick to some degree without it. Like my friend Yan." He stopped walking and closed his eyes to remember how it had felt back then—when life Underground was all he had known. "And maybe even me."

They had already arrived back at the MP barracks, and Levi helped Petra up the stairs to the front doors.

"The Queen wanted to meet with my whole squad after the ceremony," he told her as he let her back in her room. "So I have to go to the palace."

"Huh? The Royal Palace?" she murmured. She sat on the edge of the bed, but she made no motion to remove her shoes. He knelt down and started to take them off for her, and she held back her urge to protest being retired to bed.

"Probably to say some parting words or whatnot," he mused. "I don't think it'll take long."

"I thought I was in your squad, too," she sighed just a little cheekily. She pulled her socked feet up to help him pull the sheets out from under her. "Your original Levi Squad."

He enveloped her in the bedsheets and tucked them in around her body.

"You are," he insisted, then paused. "Or, well… you were."

She glanced upward to see him gazing down at her with a hint of regret in his eyes. And as his mood grew somber, another thought sprang to her mind:

"So now, Historia is the Queen."

"Yes."

"And she'll just—stay in the palace now? You called her 'Queen' and put a crown on her head, and now she'll never fight by your side again…."

He gave a slow blink while he gazed at her.

"Probably not."

A pensive moment hung between them, broken only when Levi rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

"But in a way," he continued, "this way is better. For you, I mean. 'Cause to be honest… I haven't thought of you as my subordinate for a while."

Her eyebrows lifted for a moment. "Oh? Why not?"

And he gave a tiny smirk and squeezed her shoulder through the bedsheet covering her.

"'Cause you're my wife now. And now you get to tell me what to do."

She smiled her widest smile yet that day and pulled the covers around her head to frame her face.

"You're damn right, Captain!" she blurted out cheekily. "Now go—buy me more pears on your way back."

He scoffed a little in jest, and he said, "Sure. Get 'em while they're in season."

The bed frame squeaked as he stood back up, pulling his hand off her shoulder, and he shot her one last fond look over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

An unspoken unease permeated the air at the Wagner's bed-and-breakfast. They had just gotten word of Captain Levi's innocence the night before as the news spread south from the Capital, and in the morning over breakfast, they were still unsure what to think. It would be difficult to convince anyone from a mere Military Police message, and this family had every reason to be particularly difficult to convince.

"Well," Mrs. Wagner said at last, closing up the message scroll again, "if that's what the MPs say, then it must be true. I mean, they were right the last time they were here…."

She passed the scroll over to Felix to reread, who scanned over its contents dispassionately, then slapped the roll of paper down onto the dining room table with a thwack and slouched down into his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't care what the MPs say. I'll believe it when I see the two of them with my own eyes, looking happily married."

"Don't hold yer breath, son," Mr. Wagner grunted. "I wouldn't think the young lady would want to relive those memories by comin' right back to the place she got arrested in. Or dragging her husband in here, to boot." And he shook his head in resignation, as if to convey to his son, "You'd best just leave it alone and trust that she's alive and well out there. As I reckon she'll do for you in kind."

"Exactly," Mrs. Wagner chimed in. "We're innkeepers: all we can do in this business is do what we can for others, send them on their way, and trust that they'll be okay. So, it'll all work out—however way it does."

Felix shook his head in disbelief. "Not always, though. If the Interior Police take someone away, they tend to never come back..."

Mr. Wagner shrugged and took a bite of the sausage speared on his fork. "Well, those lads who took her weren't from the Interior."

"But they took her to the Interior, even so."

"And so what? She's a Scout. Pregnant or not. And I choose to trust that any well-trained soldier would figure out a way out of whatever she got into."

Felix heaved a sigh.

"How'd you end up this worshipful of soldiers and not end up becoming one yourself?"

After a weighty pause, Mr. Wagner slowly progressed into a slow chuckle and shaking of his head. He set his fork down and leaned in over the table to regard Felix more closely.

"Son," he began anew, "lemme tell you a little story about 'back when I was a soldier'…."

At this, Mrs. Wagner elected to busy herself with clearing the dining table of dirty dishes, but not before she caught Felix's eyes grow as wide as the saucers holding their teacups.

"I thought you were always an innkeeper!" Felix exclaimed.

"In a sense, I always was," his father insisted in his rugged playfulness. "Keeping up a barracks ain't much different from keeping up an inn…."

It felt like an inevitable turn of events when a summary knock at the door revealed not-Angelika and her not-abusive husband standing sheepishly on their doorstep. Mr. Wagner took in the sight of the two of them side-by-side and hand in hand for the first time, and with Petra now clearly wearing an engagement ring on her left ring finger. And after a long moment of staring from Petra to Levi and back again, he finally gave a low grunt of approval and gestured for them to come inside.

"You two'd better have a good explanation," he muttered while he ushered them into the dining room.

Petra breathed a sigh of relief and tucked her hair behind her ear, but the unintentionally demure way in which her hand brushed against her blushing cheek made Felix clunk the plate in his hand onto the dining table.

"It's you," he murmured in shock, staring first at her, then lingering even longer on her husband at her side. And finally he turned his head to yell out, "Hey, Mother! It's Angelika the blonde who's actually Petra the ginger!"

And Petra could not help but blush even more furiously as Mrs. Wagner burst out of the kitchen to regard her with her mouth agape and her hands on her hips.

"Yes, that's right. My real name is Petra," she sighed, then motioned to Levi: "And this is my husband, Captain Levi of the Survey Corps."

"Of the Survey Corps. Not the Military Police?" Mrs. Wagner asked with an eyebrow raised.

"No," Levi said plainly. "Why would you think that?"

Petra cleared her throat and tugged on his sleeve, then she leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I kinda had to let them draw some wrong conclusions. To explain why I didn't want to call the MPs."

"You mean to report my alleged spousal abuse?"

"Umm… yeah." And she drew her hands back in and clasped them awkwardly in front of her protruding belly.

"God," he muttered, holding a hand over his face. "What a shitshow."

Mr. Wagner crossed his arms over his chest and stared them both down from his superior height.

"Well, ain't you gonna sit? Dinner is served."

"Being served," Mrs. Wagner clarified before nudging her son with her elbow. "You work those muscles and bring out the food while I finish what you started," she huffed, separating the plates from the stack and setting them out on the embroidered cotton placemats. Felix heaved a sigh and returned to the kitchen, tossing one last glance at Levi before disappearing through the door.

As Petra and Levi settled stiffly into adjacent chairs on the long edge of the dining table, with Levi draping his green jacket on the back of his chair, Mr. Wagner headed off up the stairway with another grunt.

"Where's he going?" Petra asked Mrs. Wagner quietly.

"To open up a room for the both of you, of course," Mrs. Wagner said. She was now laying out the metal utensils on top of the napkins she had already set to the right of every plate.

"You're charging us this time for sure, though," Levi noted. "For both of us tonight and for Petra last time."

"Well, if you insist."

Mr. Wagner came back down the stairs with a squeak underfoot at every step. He was followed by more pairs of squeaking feet, prompting both Levi and Petra to sit up a little straighter in their chairs at two more people appearing behind their host.

"We can't have you thinking we never get any other guests in here," Mr. Wagner chuckled, regaining a bit of color to his personality again. "This is Marta and her daughter Louise."

Mr. Wagner motioned to a young mother with straight, dirty-blonde hair in a white dress and red skirt, accompanied by a preteen girl with shorter hair of the same color. They took their seats next to Felix, across the table from Levi, Petra, and Mrs. Wagner.

"Sounds like they attended the Queen's Coronation, too," Mrs. Wagner noted.

"Oh really?" Levi asked.

"Yes, sir," Marta nodded, noting Levi's green Survey Corps jacket hanging on the back of his chair. She passed a basket of bread rolls to her daughter, and each of them took one for their plates. "And now we're on the way home to Trost."

"Well, so are we!" Petra exclaimed.

The girl named Louise was staring openly at Levi, which unnerved him slightly. "You're a Scout! That uniform…."

"That's right," he grunted. "You're acting like you've never seen one before."

Petra grimaced a little at his natural unfriendliness being inflicted on the girl, so she explained to them, "He's Captain Levi of the Survey Corps."

Louise gasped, clearly starstruck.

Her mother gazed across the table at Levi and Petra with a bland countenance.

"You see? This is why we're the only crazy civilians who had to come all the way up from Trost for the coronation. Sweetie," and she turned to Louise, "I'm telling you, everyone we know are perfectly happy to read about it in the papers."

"But this is different, Mother! We saw the future of humanity—in the flesh!"

Petra sat up a little straighter in her chair and smiled warmly at them. "What did you think of the ceremony?"

Marta swilled the drink in her mug and gazed into its spiraling surface. "Goodness, I still can't believe that tiny, short girl killed a Titan that big. They said it was taller than the Wall!" And she took a long sip.

Louise was clutching her dinner roll in her hand, smushing its corner into the gravy pooled on her plate. "Short girls can still be strong," she insisted. "Remember that Survey Corps girl who saved us?"

"The girl with the red scarf?"

Marta sighed heavily, then turned to address the adults across the table.

"Ever since that girl saved us from the Titans, she's been starry-eyed about Survey Corps this, Survey Corps that. I've been hoping for someone to convince her not to join the military, but with her father in the Garrison and her idol in the Survey Corps, I'm at my wit's end."

Levi glanced down at his own uniform, then over to Petra. She realized that Louise did not seem to recognize her as the other Scout from that day when Mikasa saved them, perhaps because of her newly blonde hair. Petra and Levi exchanged uncomfortable glances and tucked into their own food with a newfound eagerness to distract themselves from having to make further conversation—and to avoid being asked more questions about the girl with the red scarf.

"I really don't think we can help with that," Levi told Marta. "Sorry."

"Same," Petra added. "I mean, even I'm a Scout myself."

At this, Marta speared a string bean on her fork with unnecessary force, causing the tip of the tines to squeak against the plate. "Oh God. I don't know what to do anymore." She turned to her daughter again. "Louise, I know that there are female soldiers, too, but that doesn't mean you have to join them and risk your own life, too."

Louise frowned at her and continued calmly with her dinner. "Humanity needs every soldier they can get," she declared.

"They need you for Titan food! The ones you see out there running around and getting famous are just the lucky ones. And not everyone can be lucky. Your father..." And she stared down at the table. Felix passed her a serving bowl of stew and moved the ladle over to her, which she took gratefully and began serving stew to Louise, then herself.

Louise was more subdued now, scraping her spoon listlessly in the stew broth. "I know. He wasn't lucky. But—at least he did something."

Her mother gave a businesslike nod. "He did. And for that, he died."

"He died so we could live," Louise mumbled to herself.

"What did you say?" her mother said. Her face was pale.

"You're right," Levi interjected, crossing his arms over his chest. "He did his duty to all of you. And that's why we can all be here tonight. Eating dinner together. Looking forward to the future of humanity."

Petra raised her eyebrows at him, pleasantly surprised at his adept guidance of the conversation into more positive territory.

"Well said," Mr. Wagner spoke in his gruff voice. "I could have said the same thing."

"Anyway," Mrs. Wagner added, eyeing Levi and Petra pointedly. "I'm grateful that all of us are here together. So we can all get to know each other. Hm?"

"Yes, ma'am," Petra agreed, pursing her lips uneasily now. "I wanted to give my husband a chance to—clear things up for you."

Marta leaned in over her plate. "Do you all know each other from somewhere?"

"You could say that," Felix muttered before slipping a mouthful of food in.

"We just need to get more acquainted," Mrs. Wagner clarified. "Some lingering questions, you know."

Marta nodded agreeably. "Louise, sweetie. I think that's our cue to finish up," she said to her daughter. "You eat like a bird anyway."

"Mother," Louise sighed, "the food's good here, though."

"Well, we're flattered," Mr. Wagner said. "My wife and son are the meanest cooks around." And he slapped his son approvingly on the back of the shoulder.

"We'll leave some snacks on the table for later," Mrs. Wagner assured them. "Louise here's at that age where they grow like weeds." And she glanced at her own son Felix, who had coincidentally gotten to his feet to accept Louise's plate. "At least, my own kid did!"

Marta helped Louise out of her chair, and the mother and daughter both turned and said in unison, "Thank you very much for dinner!"

As Marta and Louise headed for the stairs, the mother told her daughter in a hushed voice, "Now, I know you didn't just insult my cooking. I think you meant that you just take my cooking for granted!"

And Louise gave a lighthearted chuckle for the first time that night, finally sounding very much like the young girl that she still was.

"Yes, Mother. I like your cooking, too…."

Alone with the Wagners again, Levi and Petra continued to eat quietly, glancing intermittently at each other and breaking eye contact just as quickly.

"So. Petra," Mr. Wagner grunted. "Tell it to us straight: does he treat you right?"

And she felt her cheeks flush as she blurted out, "Yes! He takes such good care of me."

"And is that all the time? Or just sometimes?"

"Look." Levi set his fork down. "Mr. Wagner. I understand that my wife gave you the impression that I laid my hands on her. But she was attacked by someone else earlier that day while I was away. And she ran away from Trost because she feared for her life."

"There's no need to speak for her, Captain. I want to hear it from her," Mr. Wagner insisted. His stern gaze matched Levi's impassive expression.

Petra set her mug down and swallowed anxiously.

"He treats me right, Mr. Wagner. Always. And I'm sorry I led you to believe otherwise. I'm sorry to all of you," she sighed, gazing around at each of them in turn and ending on Levi, who smiled sadly back.

Felix leaned forward onto his elbows, eliciting a creak from his wooden chair. He gazed carefully at Levi, doing his own scrutinizing now.

"Captain Levi. There's an air of—unfriendliness about you," he concluded, matching the intensity of Levi's gaze. "I find it hard to believe that someone like Petra would choose to marry you."

"Felix," Petra began deliberately, "I know he's not approachable or friendly in the least, so it is a little hard to believe… but he is a good man. And he would never lay a finger on me—even if his life depended on it." She turned to Levi for a long moment, pondering her next words, then concluded with, "He hunted down the man who hurt me. And he saw to it that I was safe… and that I could go back home."

And she gave a bittersweet smile to Felix this time, who sighed, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes as if to lay the matter to rest. Levi glanced between the two of them, mildly suspecting something about them, but he decided that some things were better left unsaid. Whatever had happened between them during her previous stay was just a moment in time, with no promises for the future. Promises were precious, sacred things that only he and Petra could share.

"Well," Felix said again, opening his eyes, "if that's what you say… then I'll believe you."

And his parents both traded meaningful looks out of the corners of their eyes. Mr. Wagner reached over and gave his son a pat on the shoulder, but gentler than before, as if to convey both approval and sympathy.

"We're glad to hear it, dear," Mrs. Wagner declared softly. "We've been so worried about you. So thank you—for coming to see us again."

Mr. Wagner turned to Felix. "Son, I know he ain't the friendly sort, but a man's personality ain't what sort of person he is. Hell, look at me!" he chuckled, gesturing at his own face. "It takes one to know one, so trust me, I'd know: he ain't all that different from me."

And their guests turned to see each other in a renewed gentleness, trading the most tender of looks in their eyes for one another. Petra could not help herself from reaching over with her hand under the table to land in the palm of Levi's own waiting hand. He rubbed his thumb along the ring on her finger, felt her squeeze his hand back, and lost himself yet again in the warmth of her golden eyes.

As they cuddled under the covers, Petra in front and Levi behind her, they gazed out the window at the silver cradle of moonlight from the waning crescent moon. Levi closed his eyes and recalled the last time the moon was full: a mere two weeks ago, when he and Mikasa were riding on a cart at night, talking about the power they shared. That name "Ackerman"… it still sounded like someone else's name, not his. Mikasa's name. Kenny's name, even. In truth, even though he had hoped in his heart that he would find someone to be connected to—someone to understand what it was like to be him—he had thought that he had already found that someone in Petra. Having blood relatives was confusing. And having someone to feel even more responsible for was stressful. There was Petra, lying in his arms at that very moment, and their unborn baby in her belly. And of course, Petra's parents, back in Trost in the house that Petra had grown up in and never wanted to leave.

But now there was Mikasa, too—his third or fourth cousin, or something like that—probably the all-around most capable soldier in the Survey Corps apart from him. But even after the past months of mentoring her to temper her impulsiveness, he still felt as if that girl was constantly dancing on the precipice of ruin—all too ready to throw her life away and let everyone and everything else go to shit, just so she could be with Eren….

Petra was similarly occupied with her own thoughts, rubbing her belly with her thumb.

How is it that everything is going so well? So perfectly—all things considered? My body has been through so many things. My baby starved and didn't even move as much... But somehow it's still alive.

Only the sound of their quiet breathing filled the room, and an intermittent stirring of an arm or leg when one of them repositioned. Petra slowly realized that she was thoroughly uninterested in sex for the first time, despite a prime opportunity to do it. There was no need to do anything else but be just as they were.

"Levi," she said quietly.

"Huh?"

She froze, suddenly doubting whether to bother saying anything. But now he was waiting expectantly, looking at her, so she sighed and continued: "Do you mind if we don't have sex for a change?"

His expression was neutral, as frustratingly difficult to judge as ever.

"Okay."

"Thank you. I'm sorry..." she mumbled, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

How embarrassing to say that out loud, she admonished herself. I should have just closed my eyes and gone to sleep; I'm sure he wouldn't have bothered me.

"Why are you apologizing?" He embraced her a little more tightly from behind. "We don't have to do it every time we're together."

She nodded to herself. "I'm glad you understand."

He sighed out through his nostrils, burying his face in her hair.

"Do you feel—uncomfortable here?" he asked.

"You mean here in this inn?"

"Yeah."

"Mmm, no, I wouldn't say that."

She paused to gaze out the window again, noting the progress of the moon towards its new cycle—contracting into its dark, invisible cocoon before reemerging as a cradle of light and growing full and bright again.

"Back then, this was the only place I felt like I could relax."

"I see. You were lucky—to have found this place. They're good people here, helping you with no questions asked."

She nodded. "They really are."

He paused for a long moment, then added: "When Erwin took me into the Survey Corps… it felt kind of like that, too. I had no one else but them. And they took care of me. And when you joined… so did you."

He hugged her around her shoulder even more tightly, pressing his cheek into her hair. Yes, he still missed her ginger hair, but there were more important things to care about.

"Petra… whatever happens in the future, promise me one thing."

She stirred a little in his embrace, curious at where he was going. "Okay. What?"

The words in his head caught in his throat, but he pressed on and found his voice: "Never… never give up again."

She grew still as the gravity of his words sunk in. Her heart suddenly felt heavy with guilt—from having rejected everything she held dear, just for believing herself unworthy.

He continued, "Even if you think you're all alone, and you're the only one left in the whole world… even if I die, or your parents die, or…."

He rubbed his hand on her belly, and she slid her hand around his and squeezed, prying his hand away in an attempt to banish his morbid thought from his head.

"You're never really alone. Okay? So—don't give up. Go out there and find the one last thing in this Godforsaken world that's still worth living for."

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she turned her head to look at him.

"And live. And be happy."

She gave a single nod and whispered hoarsely with emotion: "I will."

He nodded back at her and traced his fingers along the chain of her necklace, feeling for her ring under the bedsheet and holding it in front of her between his thumb and forefinger. The glow from the Iceburst stone illuminated their faces, and their eyes gleamed in its reflection.

"Whether you're a civilian or a Scout, you're always fighting for that same thing. As a Captain of the Survey Corps… that's the most important thing I can teach you."

And she dipped her head, took his hand in hers again, and gave a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

"I understand, Captain."

At this, he could not help but turn her chin towards him and give her one kiss on the lips goodnight. She returned it with just one more, whispered a "Good night," and turned away to close her eyes and welcome the urge to sleep.

In the morning over breakfast, it seemed that all was forgiven and the mood was light and content. All three Wagners served their four guests with an equal level of courtesy, as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened in their little bed-and-breakfast. The other two guests—the girl and her mother—ate quickly and packed most of their food for the road. And the girl Louise gazed ruefully over her shoulder at having to leave the two Scouts behind so soon.

"Thank you all so much for your hospitality," Marta gushed, shaking the hand of each Wagner one by one and nudging her daughter to do the same. "We have a long road home, but I think we'll manage much better now."

And all too soon, it was time for Levi and Petra to hit the road as well.

"You're sure you'll be okay out there, sweetie?" Mrs. Wagner asked with a note of anxiety in her voice.

Petra gave an assured nod. "Yes, ma'am. We will be."

Levi held out his hand to shake all the Wagners' hands in turn. "Thank you all again for everything. For being there for Petra."

"Well, for a sweet little angel like her, how could we not be?"

And Petra effortlessly gave her warmest smile for the Wagners as the door closed between them, and Levi took her by the hand again.

After the Wagners bid their guests farewell and safe travels and closed the door on their eventful morning, Mr. Wagner clapped a hand on Felix's shoulder.

"Well, son? What's the plan for your bright future?"

Felix crossed his arms and let his gaze wander.

"One way or another, the survival of humanity depends on our military. Especially with the King deposed and his daughter the Queen being a soldier herself. But… if running this inn can still help people—be they soldiers or civilians—then I think it's a worthwhile thing to do."

Mr. Wagner grinned in approval.

Felix continued deliberately, "I want... I want to keep working here at the inn. Stay here with you and Mother, and run things when you're old."

"Well, thank goodness," Mrs. Wagner sighed. "I'm so glad you've finally decided."

Mr. Wagner gave a nod. "Well said, son. I'm glad you're finally settled on keeping this place going."

Felix gave them a reserved smile. "I guess I figured even soldiers need a place to go sometimes..."

"Absolutely!" Mrs. Wagner declared, puffing out her chest in pride. "A hot meal and a nice, warm bed! That's what we Wagners are all about."

And her son smiled more self-assuredly.

"That's right. Something simple. Something good for humanity, no matter how you look at it. None of these questions of right or wrong, or whose side I'm on." He gave a regretful shake of his head and sighed.

Mr. Wagner shrugged and turned to drift back into the dining room.

"Well, I think innkeeping is a fine line of work to be in. Given that I'm biased, of course!" He gave a barking laugh as he slid out of view.

"I'm sorry, Father. I know you were kinda hoping I'd go for it and enlist already, but..." He trailed off as he followed his father into the next room.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It's just like you said: even soldiers need people to take care of them for a change."

Chapter 26: Sunset

Summary:

The Survey Corps spends two months preparing to retake Wall Maria. Levi and Petra have one last date at home before he departs.

Notes:

I am definitely feeling as if we are getting lost in the alternate timeline. But hey, so are Levi and Petra! And I know it took longer than I estimated to get here, but I promise you we (and the Rivetra baby!) are almost out.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"The Reluctant Heroes (Cover)" – AmaLee

"Counter-Attack Mankind (Different Version)" – Tony Anthony

After the long journey home to their old, familiar house in Trost, Levi and Petra slept like logs in their bed with their bodies intertwined and flush against each other. At daybreak, for the first time ever, even Levi did not get out of bed. When they both realized that the other was awake, they turned to each other and engulfed each other in mildly sour, morning-breath kisses rather than get up.

"Does my mouth—taste like shit?" he asked her, despite showing no signs of stopping. She chuckled through her nose as he covered her lips with his own yet again.

"Does mine?" she asked him back.

"I don't really care," he grunted and doubled down on making out with her.

"But—we should go downstairs," she sighed, turning her head away to cut him off from further kisses. "My parents might not even know we came back yet…."

And he flopped his face onto the pillow with a frustrated groan, but nevertheless nodded and pushed himself up to follow her to the bedroom door.

Surely enough, her parents were already awake and puttering around in the kitchen to prepare their own breakfast by the time she got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Well well well! Welcome home!" Mr. Ral declared.

"Congratulations, Captain!" Mrs. Ral grinned at him with her hands on her hips. "Did you sleep well?"

"They actually slept this time," Mr. Ral chuckled, turning back to chopping potatoes. "I didn't hear a squeak!"

Mrs. Ral swatted him on the back of the shoulder in playful admonishment. "Quiet, dear. Don't make them self-conscious or you'll ruin all their fun."

"Eh, well," and he shrugged, "I figure they got it out of them on the way home, if you know what I mean…."

Petra groaned in embarrassment and sank into the living room couch, wishing she could conveniently disappear behind the flower boxes. Levi helped her to adjust herself and gave her hand a quick squeeze before joining her parents in the kitchen. But after she spent a few moments staring bleary-eyed at her rounded belly and her belly button starting to poke out under the fabric of her nightgown, she rose from the couch and shuffled into the kitchen as well.

"What are you doing? Just sit and rest. We'll take care of it," her mother said.

"I'm okay," Petra insisted. "I just wanted some tea."

Petra resolutely set down a teacup and saucer for herself next to the teakettle of hot water and grabbed a black tea canister from the cupboard. Levi shot her a petulant frown, but she pointedly ignored him and shook out a helping of tea leaves into her cup.

"You'll be glad I'm drinking some," she insisted. "You'll see..."

He raised an eyebrow at her momentarily and moved on to pulling out a frying pan, deciding not to make a big fuss over what was ultimately a small quibble.

"Do you think it'll work again?" Mr. Ral murmured to his wife, jerking his head in Petra's direction.

"Shhh. Of course it will!"

"Will what work?" Levi asked. He raised an eyebrow in mild amusement.

"Like the last time you were home," Petra said, swilling her tea around in the cup. "Except you missed it."

She took a slow, long sip, took a pause, then took another big gulp to down the rest and set the cup back on its saucer, gazing expectantly at the dregs of tea in the bottom of the cup for some reason. Then she gasped and shut her eyes quickly, seeming to be concentrating hard on something. She leaned her back against the countertop, steadying herself with both hands behind her.

"What? What is it?"

She reached out a hand towards him and said hurriedly, "Gimme your hand—I can feel it—"

When she placed the palm of Levi's hand on her lower abdomen, she winced in momentary discomfort as the fluid inside her churned and stirred noticeably. His eyes grew wide, staring down at her belly as the baby resurfaced its feet, kicking upward at his waiting hand to greet him.

Petra beamed at him. "Did you feel that? Isn't that neat?"

Levi continued to stare, rubbing his thumb against the foot pressing outward through her skin. The baby's foot left a brief, fleeting impression before submerging again into the water inside her.

"Yeah... it sure is."

After breakfast, everyone was adamant that Petra return to bed and keep on resting, and even after her cup of black tea, she still found herself too physically tired to deny the need for continued rest. She sank onto the mattress with a low moan, and Levi helped her raise her legs up onto the bed and insert a pillow between her knees.

As he pulled the sheets over her and tucked her in, he took a seat next to her and rubbed her shoulder, gazing at her peaceful face while he thought about the future. Would he manage to survive this mission? And the next, and the next? Or would he eventually leave her behind as just another military widow with a young child to raise alone—like Marta and Louise?

He noticed her hand moving subtly under the bedsheet in front of her, and he asked, "What are you doing?"

She opened her eyes the slightest bit and popped her hand out from under the bedsheet to reveal her ring on its chain, held aloft in between her thumb and forefinger. She gazed upon its mysterious bluish glow that shone despite the sunlight streaming in through the window behind him.

"Sometimes I just like to hold it. And look at it like this," she admitted. "It reminds me of you…. It helps me think about things."

"Oh really?" He reached out for the ring and took it between his own fingers. "What are you thinking about?"

She was quiet for a few moments.

"You tell me your thought first," she insisted.

He examined the ring by tilting it from side to side, silently appreciating its beauty.

"I was thinking… that Iceburst Stone isn't going to be very valuable anymore. The Reiss Cavern got blown wide open, and it's full of the stuff. So they're manufacturing lamps powered with Iceburst Stone as we speak... and we may never need candles again. Except we'll still need fire for cooking, of course."

She gave a wan smile. "Such a practical thought to have." And she gave a tiny chuckle to herself. "How very Captain Levi."

"Tch," he scoffed. "What's your profound thought, then?"

And she fell silent again, and her expression grew deadly serious.

"I was thinking… about what's gonna happen. If I don't make it."

"You will," he insisted, feeling his body temperature rising. "Why wouldn't you?"

She sighed and closed her eyes again while she reached out to retake the ring from him; she curled her hand around it and submerged it underneath the sheets again.

"The physician sent you a letter. And the MPs said they gave it to you."

A heavy dread set in the air. He slowly pulled his hand away from her shoulder.

"Yeah. They did. I read it."

"And?"

He sighed as well.

"If I survive this mission—when I survive—" he self-corrected after seeing her purse her lips, "I'll ask for some time off. To be at home more often. And help you however I can."

She nodded slowly, her head still on the pillow.

"And how will you help me?"

He glanced up towards the door, retreating into his thoughts again as he envisioned himself by her side every day, watching her belly swell up to its largest size, and watching her shuffling along under its burden.

"You're not going to starve again. I'm going to cook every meal for you and fatten you up like a pig."

"What?" she snorted. "When you put it that way, it sounds like a punishment, not a favor…."

"No more passing out from standing in the sun, then. And no more traveling outside Trost. In case that's too draining on you, too."

She grumbled "Fine" under her breath, begrudgingly admitting to herself that he was right to be concerned.

"And—I'm going to get plumbing into this house," he declared. "Running water out of a spout, like what the MPs have."

Her eyes sprang open all the way, and she turned her head towards him, her face bright with excitement.

"Really?"

"Yeah. This house, your neighbors, the whole neighborhood." And he gave her another tiny nod. "Trost has been dealing with plenty of issues since the Titan invasion. But they've put this one off for long enough."

They smiled at each other with a renewed fondness.

"Thank you," she murmured, closing her eyes again. "I hope it'll help…."

"It will."

And he leaned down over her and kissed her gently on the temple. He caught a glimpse of her eyelids fluttering as he pulled away, and he bowed his head in recognition of the aching that gripped his heart.

"I love you," she said, smiling more gently now.

His voice came out low, almost timidly quiet: "I love you, too."

And finally, he stood up, opened her bedroom door, and closed it behind him, avoiding looking back.

Levi made it to the bottom of the stairs all too soon, and to settle his anxiety, he headed straight for the cleaning supplies and got to work wiping down the dining table and kitchen countertops with a wet rag. Whenever things in his life felt out of his control—which was admittedly quite often—he could always count on cleaning to help him to restore order to his world. He had learned to view the forces of change as akin to the inevitable reintroduction of dirt and dust that required regular cleaning. Life happened in cycles, and so did cleaning.

He sensed another person's presence behind him and turned to look over his shoulder to find Mr. Ral pulling in a broom from the storage closet. He gave Levi a nod and busied himself with sweeping the dust towards the back door exit to the kitchen. And just like that, the two men soon found themselves bonding over their shared fondness for cleaning.

"I know the house is rickety old and dust gets in all the time, no matter what we do," Mr. Ral sighed. "But all the more reason for us to keep it as clean as possible in here."

Levi smirked, thinking to himself how the sight of Petra's father sweeping reminded him of when she would do the same around the barracks.

"Like father, like daughter. Petra was always the best at cleaning out of my whole squad."

"Heh. Even though it may not look it, you two really are well-suited." Mr. Ral opened the back door and started shifting the dust pile over the threshold and outside onto the dirt. "A lot of men would call this 'women's work', but I think that men should be willing to do all the things that women do—and vice versa."

Levi gave a tiny smile to himself. "The more I learn about you and her mother… the more Petra makes sense."

And Mr. Ral gave a sheepish grin and scratched his head. "She's not your ordinary woman for sure, Captain. But we couldn't be prouder. Of her or you."

But Levi gradually grew pensive again the longer he buffed the countertops with a dry cloth. He admitted to himself that the house was very old indeed, and old houses were at increased risk of pests and mold. But at least the lack of running water could be addressed by enlisting the Engineer Corps for another project after finishing what Hange had them working on—and hopefully that would be enough to tip the scales in their favor. The stakes were higher than ever, both at work and at home. And he was more determined than ever to ensure victory at any cost.

With the house newly swept and cleaned and Captain Levi reporting for duty every day to prepare for the upcoming mission, only coming home late in the evenings, Petra took the liberty of sending a letter to invite her new friends from the Military Families Group over to her house at long last. She knew that she had some explaining to do to dispel their worries, and she decided that she would rather have them come to her than to have to lug her heavy belly over to Lenore's house where they would usually hang out.

The very next day, Petra answered the eager knocking at the door and beamed when she saw raven-haired Lenore, blonde Griselda, and brown-haired Romy on the doorstep. Their eyes grew wide and they froze on the spot as they took in Petra's new look.

"Petra!" Griselda gasped. "You're blonde all of a sudden…."

"Ah, yes," Petra grinned sheepishly. "I, um… it's a long story. I'm growing it all out, though. maybe in a year or so I'll be fully ginger again!"

Lenore reached in and pulled her into a warm hug. "But you really are okay! We're so relieved." She grew serious for a moment. "And Captain Levi isn't a spousal abuser, right?"

"Right," Petra sighed. "Just—forget about all that stuff."

"Yes," Romy added with a nod, "it's so good to see you, Petra. Thank you for having us over!"

And Romy produced a wicker picnic basket from behind her and held it out towards Petra.

"Time to fatten you up!" Romy declared. "No rush; it won't get cold or anything."

"Gee, does everyone want to fatten me up these days?" Petra mused. "Thank you." She balanced the basket awkwardly on her belly, then turned to bring it to the dining table.

"Oh don't worry, I got it," Romy assured her, swooping her arms around the basket again to set it down for Petra.

"You know, though," Griselda murmured with a tilt of her head, "I could've sworn I had this really sad dream about you while you were gone. But I don't really remember…."

Romy cleared her throat anxiously as she walked back to the foyer to rejoin them. "We all had a sad dream about you, Petra. I just remember Mr. Berner was there for some reason…."

"That's right!" Lenore gasped. "He had this painting of you, Petra, and it looked just like you."

Petra's face grew pale as she felt a chill of anxiety course through her. But she gamely smiled at them and offered them seats at the dining table.

"Wait wait wait!" Griselda insisted, propping her hands on her hips instead of sitting. "This is our first time here and we haven't even seen the place! Can't you at least show us around real quick?"

"Exactly, Griselda, it's our first time here, so we should be polite and stay at the table," Romy tried to explain to her.

But Petra smiled and said, "No problem; I can give you a tour."

Captain Levi's seat at the dining table. Captain Levi's toothbrush propped up in the bathroom next to the sink. And in Petra's upstairs bedroom, Captain Levi's folded pajamas sitting next to hers on top of the made bed at the foot of the mattress, his extra suit hanging in the closet, and even his dirty laundry mixed in with Petra's in the hamper basket. Everything that was his was ogled at and gushed and giggled over.

Petra huffed, "Look, I appreciate your curiosity, but this isn't a museum of his personal belongings. He actually uses this stuff, like any other human being does..."

"And that's why it's so fascinating!" Griselda insisted.

Petra groaned and tipped her head back.

"You realize that he is famous, right, Petra?" Romy giggled.

"Don't worry, Petra: we are all going to keep this visit secret," Lenore affirmed, poking her two companions. "None of those mama hens need to know, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Griselda declared.

"Good," Petra sighed. "'Cause to be honest, I didn't even tell him you guys were coming over."

All three women gasped, then progressed into mischievous grins.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Lenore finally dispensed with her airs of propriety to give Petra a pat on the back of her shoulder. "Hubby has enough on his plate! We're just a few little ladies hanging out, having fun, gossiping behind his back…." And she winked at Petra, who gulped, feeling a sudden pang of nervousness.

Romy noticed the gas canisters shoved in the corner of the closet and pointed them out for the group.

"I know I've seen those before. Is that his spare pair?"

"Oh. Those are actually mine, not his," Petra explained.

And the young ladies gasped in renewed respect.

"I guess you are a real soldier," Lenore concluded, reaching for the closet door to close it again.

Petra sighed, fuming slightly, "Did I ever say I wasn't?"

At the conclusion of the tour, the three guests settled in around the dining table for tea. Petra gushed, "Wow, thank you!" when she opened the picnic basket and found an assortment of fruit tarts nestled in layers of linen cloth.

"Delicious and nutritious," Romy declared proudly, then paused for a moment. "Well, other than all the sugar!" she chuckled.

Petra smiled widely. "It'll go perfectly with the herbal tea."

And they all spent a happy few minutes chattering away about their shared fondness for tea and pastries. Even though it had been awkward to show them all the private nooks and crannies of the house, Petra was glad to have them over. She had not realized how much she had missed being in the company of other women. The longer time she spent at home, the more her life resembled theirs more than her husband's. And it would have been quite a shock to her former self of six months ago, who had spent her entire adult life in a male-dominated profession, but today she was actually starting to feel comfortable being an ordinary woman.

Lenore finished her lavender tea with one final sip and set her empty teacup back down on the saucer with a clink. "Well, we didn't find any paintings of you in your house, Petra, so I guess that proves we were all just having a weird dream."

"A weird, shared dream?" Romy asked, her voice distant. She leaned back in her chair to help herself think.

Griselda sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, now you girls are off your rockers. People don't dream the same dreams at the same time! Okay?"

"Exactly," Petra declared, hoping to steer them away from the topic as soon as possible.

Lenore leaned forward to regard Petra more carefully from across the table.

"But really, Petra: how are you? You have a lot on your plate right now. People are expecting so much from the Survey Corps—and from Captain Levi."

"Yeah," Romy added. "After all that stuff in Orvud District, everyone's talking about the Survey Corps. Other regiments, too, not just the civilians. And Retaking Wall Maria is a big deal."

"Gee, I guess that makes sense. I've been living in Survey Corps Land for so long that sometimes I forget what the other regiments are thinking."

"And you're pregnant!" Griselda's eyes lit up suddenly, and she whispered conspiratorially, "Can we touch it?"

"Touch my belly?" Petra laughed. "Sure."

She closed her eyes and submitted herself to each woman's hands upon her belly. The baby, being freshly stimulated by the tea, pastries, and pleasant company, wiggled and poked its feet out at their hands, eliciting awed whispers and squeals of excitement from her guests.

"I wonder if the rest of us will ever have babies, too," Lenore sighed. "Or are we all just waiting for… well…."

The rest of the women turned to look at each other sadly. Petra bit her lip for a long moment, but finally spoke:

"All I can say to that is: don't wait." And she nodded more resolutely before continuing, "Live your lives. Just like we're doing now, spending time together. And the next time your husbands do come home…." And she winked, sending her guests into a fresh fit of coquettish laughter hidden behind their hands.

While the Scouts engaged in daily preparations to retake Wall Maria, Levi came home every night to fall asleep next to Petra in their bed. He stayed for breakfast, although he was always in a rush. But she was grateful to at least be able to fall asleep in his arms—safe in his love—night after night. Time with him was a precious gift that she dared not take for granted, no matter how many nights it lasted for.

On one such night, Petra spoke aloud in the dark: "Are you sure about spending this extra commuting time when you could just take a bath and sleep back at the barracks?"

"Nah. I always sleep better when I'm here. So it's worth it." And he embraced her a little more tightly from behind.

"Oh really? And why's that? 'Cause this mattress is better than the one in your room?"

He scoffed. "'Cause you're in this bed, not in the bed in my room."

"However did I turn you into such a romantic? You always know just what to say," she teased him, turning her head towards him. And he took full advantage of the opportunity to give her a kiss on the lips, which soon became two, then three.

"It's good to be home," he admitted, holding her face in his hand. As he traced his thumb along the contour of her cheekbone, she closed her eyes a moment too late to stop a tear from sliding out.

The next several weeks seemed to fly by, hurtling past them as they could do nothing but marvel at the passing of time. Every night when Levi came home, he would get into bed and wake Petra up to talk to her, at her insistence. Almost always, she was already still half-awake, but just lying in bed with her eyes closed—resting her eyes but still thinking about him, about their baby, and about the past, present, and future. How did they get to where they were now? And what was still to come? Petra already felt as if her belly was swollen enough to burst; as it was, her breasts were sore and leaky enough to blot through her maternity bras, and the dirty laundry piled up faster than ever. Even with Levi helping to clean around the house in the early mornings, Petra and her parents had never been busier with all the storekeeping and housekeeping combined.

Nevertheless, when it seemed that her fainting spells were behind her, Petra went for morning runs again. It was harder than ever before to run with so much more weight on her, so she would always end up up doing more of a jog than a run. She was sure that she would get yelled at for being slow if she were still training with the Survey Corps, but she was doing her best. And that would have to be enough.

Eventually, a date for the next mission materialized as the planning and preparation progressed. After two months of preparation, they would retake Wall Maria. And one night as that day drew close, lying in bed with the warm dimness of the lamp on her bedside table to their backs, Levi murmured to her in the dark:

"Petra. I have some news."

"Oh? What news?"

"I get one day off. A 'prep day' the day before we leave. And we're leaving at sunset, so I can stay late and rest on the day of."

She shifted a little in his tightening embrace as she digested this bit of news. "Well, we'll take what we can get."

"Yeah. So… think about what you want to do. Where you want to go."

She broke into a wide smile. "Is this a date?"

He pulled her in even closer, resting his head on top of hers and speaking softly into her ear. "That's right. A real date."

She hummed to herself as she thought of the possibilities.

"How about breakfast at home as usual, and then… a tea house? I know a good one by the river that I run past all the time, so they have a great view, too."

"Sounds good."

"And after… we can just walk around. There's that park nearby, and the shops, and the people…. What do you think?"

He nodded, still resting his head on her hair. "Sounds perfect."

And she gave one more smile to seal the deal. "Then it's a date."

But the night before their date, Levi came home even later than usual, and when he shook Petra awake in the bed, she saw that his face looked somber and apologetic in the lamplight (now the bluish glow of Iceburst Stone instead of the warmer glow of candlelight).

"Petra," he said quietly.

"Levi. You're home. What?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"I…." He lapsed into silence at the sight of her expectant expression, steeling himself for her disappointment. "Those brats roped me into something tomorrow. Eren, specifically. We gotta go visit Commander Shadies, and that means… I can't go on that date after all."

"The Cadet Corps? You're going all the way to the training grounds?"

"Yeah."

Petra heaved a sigh and closed her eyes again.

"And then after that is dinner with the whole Survey Corps," he added quietly.

"Mm-hmm. You all gotta eat, too…."

"I'm sorry," Levi muttered, his voice heavy with regret.

"And you absolutely have to go—with Eren?" Petra asked. The exasperation in her voice was plain.

He gave a single nod. "Hange is going, too." He took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles. "It's… important."

She nodded quietly, her head still on her pillow. "I'm sure it is. It's just that… I wanted us to be important, too."

"We are. I will come home eventually. Just… even later than usual."

And they traded bittersweet smiles.

"Then it's still a date—a date at home, at the Ral Café," Petra decided with another nod of finality. "I'll wait for you on the couch. And if you don't want me sleeping there all night, then you'd better come home eventually!"

He smirked and pulled the bedsheet a little more securely around her shoulder. "I always do."

The next night—the night before the mission—Petra had completely dozed off on the living room couch under a blanket, with only the bluish white lights of Iceburst Stone illuminating the room—a wide, brighter gleam from the family's new Iceburst Stone lamp, and a tinier spark of piercing light from the ring that hung from her neck. And after some time, she felt the warmth of a familiar hand on her shoulder shaking her awake.

"Petra. I'm home. It's late."

"Levi…" she murmured, stirring from sleep and swinging her legs back down to sit up properly. "I drank black tea and everything, but I still fell asleep in the end…."

Levi took a seat next to her on the couch, flopping his rucksack on the floor next to him. He was already wearing what amounted to pajamas: a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt and loose pants.

"Is it too late to have that date?" he asked.

She smiled. "It's never too late." She tossed an end of her blanket over his lap and teased him, "And it's never too early for a booty call!"

He reached a hand down into his rucksack and produced a tin canister from inside. He popped open the lid and handed the canister to her.

"Actually, I am 'bearing gifts' this time," he noted wryly.

Petra closed her eyes and took a deep sniff of the contents of the canister, and her eyes sparkled with eagerness when she opened them again.

"Mmmm… I smell… strawberries, actually…."

"That's right. Pear and strawberry tea."

She gasped in excitement. "Cool! Like summer and fall mixed together—seasons overlapping…."

He gave a nod. "That's pretty much what the shopkeeper said."

And he stood up from the couch, set his rucksack down on her father's chair since the latter was clearly no longer awake, and headed the few steps over to the kitchen counter.

"Did you eat dinner?" he asked as he washed his hands at the sink.

Petra rose from the couch to trail after him. "Yes, of course. Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

He turned to her, surprised that she was following him.

"You can rest," he insisted. "I was just going to boil some water."

"I already filled the teakettle with water; all we need to do is boil it," she said. She pulled out her chair at the dining table (directly across from his) and took a seat with the tea canister still in her hands, glancing expectantly up at him with a cheeky grin while he lit a flame under the teakettle on the stove.

"I guess I'll set out the teacups, too, then," he decided, and he chose two sets of teacups, saucers, and accompanying spoons from the cupboard.

"Ahh, what a chivalrous, hardworking husband I have," she sighed wistfully as she shook out a generous serving of fruit tea into each cup.

"Ahh, what a pregnant, tired wife I have," he retorted, taking his seat across from her. And he reached over to his rucksack again and carefully produced another item from it. It was a soft package of linen wrapping, which he undid to reveal: "This is what we had for dinner. I figured you might want some, too—You're a Scout, too…."

And she stared dumbstruck at the unexpected sight of meat: thick slices of cooked beef that had admittedly turned cold, but was still bound to be delicious with its seasoning. She leaned back into her wooden chair, which gave a tiny squeak as if it approved of the gift as well.

"Wow," she breathed. "Thank you…."

"I'm just hoping you don't get indigestion from eating heavy food so late," he admitted. "But even so… you don't get this kind of food every day around here."

"Who cares about indigestion?" she snorted. "I'm not letting perfectly good meat go bad!" she declared. He was already bringing a plate to the table to transfer the meat onto it, and he held out a fork and knife for her as well.

"Eat up," he said. "I had to beat up a couple people just to get my hands on that."

"Huh?" she asked, her knife and fork poised in midair. "You want some, too?"

"Nah. I ate some already, too."

Some quiet moments passed with Petra digging eagerly into the platter of meat while Levi sat across from her with his elbows on the table and his chin propped on his hands, content with simply watching her eat her fill. He needed to make up for her bouts of starvation with whatever he could bring home for her. He had promised her that he would not let her starve. And even though he had failed in the past, he was determined never to fail her again.

"This is amazing," she gushed, whimpering at how good it was.

"Heh. You can thank the Reeves Company."

She stopped her chewing to consider her contentious encounter with Boss Reeves half a year ago, versus being thankful to them now for providing the Survey Corps with a feast for their last night at home. And she begrudgingly acknowledged that she had been right after all: that people can change, if given the chance. And if she ever got to run into Mikasa again, she would be sure to remind her of that.

"This is pretty odd, though," Petra mumbled through a mouthful of beef. "Why are we combining fruity tea with beef?"

"You're the one who said 'we'll take what we can get'," he mused.

"Heh. You think my parents will believe me when I tell them you brought me meat? 'Cause by the time I'm done, there will be no more evidence!"

He folded up the linen cloth he had wrapped the meat in, noting the moistness from the seasoning and juices still blotting the fabric.

"The evidence is right here. But I'd say we should wash this within a day, not wait till laundry day." He paused. "And by 'we', I mean 'I'."

"Thank you, Captain," she chuckled before eating another forkful.

A minute or so passed of Petra continuing to eat quietly, and then Levi dug into his rucksack again, this time pulling out a rectangular box about the size of a hand.

"What's that?" she asked, staring first at the box, then at him.

He took a brief glance in the direction of her parents' bedroom, but there were no signs that they might be awake to hear his next words.

"According to Eren and Historia… it's a serum that will turn a human into a Titan."

And he opened the case to reveal a syringe, a needle, and a vial of mysterious, clear fluid, all nestled in a bed of velvet. Her eyes grew wide as she gasped, then pursed her lips back together.

"Titan… serum?" she asked in a hushed whisper. As soon as the words left her lips, she felt a peculiar thrill surging through her head—as if she had said those words before and seen this very thing before somehow, sometime….

"Yes. And Erwin… entrusted it to me. To use as I see fit. When the time comes." His voice was grave with the weight of the burden on him. "It'll turn someone into a dumb Titan. But the plan is, if we have an intelligent Titan in their human form nearby, we can feed them to the dumb Titan… and we'll capture that Titan's powers for ourselves."

"For the Survey Corps," she clarified aloud, nodding along as she continued to think. "Well, not just us… for humanity in the Walls."

He gave a nod.

"Just like you say: there are humans outside the Walls, too. And they want to kill us all… but we don't know why."

And he summarily closed the serum kit and slid it back into his rucksack.

"At least, not until we get to Eren's basement. And that's where we'll find answers."

An anxious pall blossomed in the air, enveloping them in its silent sigh. And they both felt the trepidation at hurtling towards the truth—the kind of truth that they had to find out, but did not want to. As if on cue, the teakettle began to hiss and whistle, breaking them from their shared trance. Levi stood up and blew out the flame underneath, then returned in another moment with the kettle to pour into their teacups.

When the tea had steeped until was ready, she was mostly done with the beef on her plate. She took a gentle sip to taste the tea, then took a longer sip to savor it.

"Ahhh," she sighed. "Delicious."

He gave a tiny smile and picked up his own teacup by the rim. "I'm glad you like it."

She smiled back, more wistfully now. "I'm looking forward to winter soon. Winter teas are delicious, too."

He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head back as he thought. "If you're not too big to walk by then, we could go to a holiday market."

"I'd love to!"

When Petra was done eating the beef (and she ate every last scrap, savoring every bite), Levi washed her dishes quickly and they cuddled on the couch underneath a knitted blanket, sipping a second round of tea from their teacups by candlelight. Even though the sun still shone brightly by day, it was growing progressively chillier by night. They were in that strange time of transition between the seasons—summer and winter converging, just like their tea.

"You know what else is coming soon?" Petra said, briefly raising her eyebrows at him.

Levi steeled himself in his seat; he had a hunch he knew where she was going with this.

"What?"

"Our birthdays. Both in December!" she whispered eagerly.

"Heh. Yeah… and then the baby a couple months later already."

Petra felt the baby begin to stir inside her at being mentioned, and she gasped, sat up straighter, and grabbed his hand.

"It's moving again—feel it," she whispered urgently, pressing his palm against the swell of her belly. His eyes focused on his hand and his fingers felt along her skin, just catching the strained outline of a tiny foot appearing and disappearing from the smooth dome. From toe to heel it was shorter than the length of his own thumb, but nevertheless there.

"Huh," he muttered, too awestruck to say much more. "I felt it… it was there."

"It is there," she corrected him, taking his hand from her belly and pressing her thumb into the back of his hand. "Our little baby, right here with us."

And they smiled broadly at each other, their hearts bursting with excitement. More and more often, she got to see him smile like this, when before, he never did.

"It's funny," she began, looking deeply into his eyes. "You seem so happy so much of the time."

"I guess I have a lot to be happy about," he said quietly. He leaned in closer to her and shifted a little more of the blanket onto her.

"Am I one of those things?" she asked with a teasing note in her voice.

He took her hand in his under the blanket. "You're the biggest thing."

And she grinned even more cheekily and reached for her teacup for another long sip. But her expression grew cloudy as she set the cup back down. She turned to him and said:

"So—Levi."

He gazed back at her, then reached for his own teacup while waiting for her to continue.

"What's on your mind?" she finally finished.

He sighed and sank back a little into the couch cushion behind him before taking a slow sip of his own. When he leaned back to return the cup to its saucer, he landed it a little more heavily than before.

"A lot. Always—so much."

She nodded slowly to herself.

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

He frowned. "I don't want to burden you."

"It's not a burden to me. I know for me, before a mission, it helped me to talk about it. With Hange, or… Nanaba… or Nifa."

She smiled sadly at him.

"But, of course, other than Hange… now they're dead."

He shrugged a little and reached for his teacup again to finish off the rest of his tea. "My best friends died, too. Farlan and Isabel."

"That's right. You told me a little bit about them."

"Heh. And tonight, those three brats—Eren, Mikasa, and Armin—talking about seeing the sea. 'A salt lake so big that merchants could spend their whole lives and still not get all the salt!' is what Armin said…."

And Petra smiled furtively to herself, recalling those three brats sitting down with her not too long ago. She could hear the nostalgia setting into his voice as he continued:

"Back in the day, my own friends and I were just glad to see the sky—the sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds. We couldn't even imagine what could be beyond the Walls…."

She took a long look at him gazing off into the darkened far corner of the living room, then reached over for a hug.

"And now you'll all find out soon. Just like Armin said: way out there, past all the Titans, is the sea."

But hearing her talk about it seemed to pull him back to reality, sobering him up. His head twitched a little as he took a sharp inhale.

"No. First come our enemies, waiting for us. And then Eren's basement. And then… the sea. And then after that… who knows."

He unexpectedly rose to his feet, shifting the blanket over and folding it over itself onto her.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Speaking of water," he said, "did you take a bath recently?"

She lifted herself from the cushions and reached for his waiting hand to help her up. "Not today! Did you?"

"Yeah. Before dinner—and now it's your turn." He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment to recover the metal bathtub, set it down on the kitchen floor, and started to fill it with water from the cistern.

"This date just keeps on going," Petra laughed.

"That's the plan," he insisted with a smirk, then poured another bucketful in.

Much to Petra's pleasant surprise, this was no ordinary bath. With boiling hot water mixed in with the cold water from storage, the bath water was perfectly warm for a cold night, but not too hot to scald a baby. Levi dropped a folded towel on the kitchen floor next to the tub to sit on, and he added in in lavender-scented oil from a dropper and covering the water's surface with rose petals from a jar in his rucksack. The actual act of bathing her passed slowly and tenderly, and soon enough, she had long finished washing up and they were still there, letting her soak up the rest of the heat from the warm water while he cuddled her over the edge of the tub. In truth, she was rather uncomfortably wedged into the bathtub with her belly taking up the majority of the free space there had been the last time they had bathed together in it. Now there was no way that he would have fit in it along with her. But they made it work without complaining, and indeed there were only things to be grateful for.

"I'd definitely count this as a date," Petra declared, turning her head behind herself to look at him through the corner of her eye. "Wouldn't you?"

"That was my intention."

She nudged the tip of her nose on his cheek to invite his kiss, slow and smooth upon her lips as he held under her chin with one hand.

"It's really nice, just the two of us," she sighed. "We won't get to relax like this after this baby comes out."

"I thought that baby was already right here with us." His hand found its way to the side of her belly under the water; she sighed and rested her hand over his, kneading at the back of his hand as he pressed onto her belly in turn.

"You know what I mean," she sighed. "While it's still in my belly. Not crying and keeping us up all night."

"All the more reason to savor this now."

They both closed their eyes as he hugged her even closer.

"This was a lovely evening," she concluded with a sigh of contentment. "Thank you."

He gave a nod into the side of her hair. "I enjoyed it, too…."

"This was like… a tea house date, and then a spa date. Without having to leave home." She chuckled. "Like going to the Soldier's Secret—except it's closed for the night!" she whispered through her continued giggling.

Levi tucked a lock of her wet hair behind her ear so he could better whisper back to her. "There's nothing wrong with staying in. We don't need anything fancy just to be together."

She smiled to herself again.

"That's right. All I need is you."

And she turned her head again to invite another kiss, climbing her hand up the side of his face to pull him in to her. After a few more gentle kisses, he nudged her cheek with the tip of his nose to turn her face forward again, and she let the silence sit as he hugged around her collarbones with his strong, reassuring arms and leaned his chin on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, feeling his chest rhythmically breathing against her upper back. And when she reopened her eyes, she amused herself briefly by playing with the rose petals still floating on the water's surface: rising a hand from beneath the surface to cup a single petal in her hand, sifting the water through her fingers to catch the crimson petal, clinging to the palm of her hand.

"But are you… worried?" she asked quietly. She enclosed the rose petal in her hands and pulled it underneath the surface, then reopened her hand to see if it would float back up. Now fully waterlogged, it hovered suspended underneath the water, drifting and tumbling in the current generated by her moving body, but never returning to touch her again.

There was a long pause between them as thoughts of reality seeped back into their minds. The whole night together had been wonderful—a story they had spun out of a shared dream of milestones to celebrate and of living they had still to do. Whether it was meant to be or not.

With a heavy heart, she finally asked, gazing straight ahead, "Did you do all this to send yourself off? In case this is the last time we're ever together?"

"I didn't plan on saying it out loud, but… yes." He buried his face in the back of her hair, breathing in her scent.

"You really think you're gonna die," she gasped, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

"It's always a possibility. No matter how many promises I make."

He reached out to touch her face, turning her to face him. She opened her eyes slowly to meet his gaze, feeling her emotions rising within her.

"And if it turns out that it's my time to go, I'm not going to leave without saying goodbye."

She sniffed to herself now, feeling the urge to cry and fighting against it—for both their sakes.

"And spending as much time with you as I can get," he ended.

"You're going to make it," she told him, her voice firm. "And I'm going to believe that you will."

She felt him nodding into her hair. "I hope so."

"You will."

She craned her neck around to catch him with his head bent down and his eyes closed. He opened his eyes to look deeply into hers, with that intense, tortured look she knew all too well.

"I know you can do this," she insisted. "You're the strongest Scout we have."

But he shook his head. "Everyone has their limit. And I might not know where mine is until I'm already there. And besides… there are always factors outside of one's control. We might be overpowered from the very start—like we always are…."

She pursed her lips, mulling over the best thing to say. "Then—just be careful. Huh? Always figure out a way out, before you dive right in."

"I know." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I will."

She bent his head down and gently kissed him on his closed eyelids.

Spooning in the bed under the blackness of the new moon, Petra asked Levi behind her:

"Will you be gone by the time I wake up again?"

"I can stay in bed late and stay for breakfast, but I should get going eventually. I'm sorry."

She sighed. "It's okay. I understand."

"But I wish I could stay. You know that, right?"

She nodded to herself. "Of course."

He nuzzled the tip of his nose against the back of her neck and burrowed into her hair.

"I love you." His low voice rumbled in his throat against her.

"I love you, too. Levi Ackerman."

"Tch. I guess that is my name. If you want it to be."

He slid his hand around past her lower back and onto her rounded belly.

"Now that I have a family name… would you want to use mine for the baby's name?"

She slid her hand down to rest on top of his.

"Definitely."

"'Something-Ackerman', then. We should think of names," he murmured in her ear. "You think of some, and I'll think of some. And when we see if it's a boy or girl or whatever, then we'll decide. Hm?"

"Mmhmm! We have to plan for the future. Not just for today."

As his mind slipped away into sleep, he finally could say to himself with genuine conviction again that there would, indeed, be a future to look forward to.

At the first light of morning, he kissed her on an exposed spot of skin on her shoulder and started to get up. As he stood up and started getting dressed, Petra protested and whined:

"What's all this?"

"Time for breakfast. I'll prepare it; you keep resting." He pulled his pants on, then fixed his belt.

She mumbled through the fog of sleep, "You're going on the mission, not me. I should be the one making you breakfast."

"Nah, you know I'm an early riser anyway." He pulled a clean button-down shirt on and started on fastening the buttons. But seeking some sort of compromise to allow her to be useful, he added, "How about I cook, and the rest of you wash the dishes?"

She sighed and flopped her head back down. "Are you going right back to bed after breakfast, then?"

"Those are our orders: sleep in as much as possible 'cause we'll be riding all night."

"Do you want me to join you? I can nap, too."

At this point, he was getting into his ODM gear straps, and his boots were ready to go on his feet right afterward. "Don't overdo it, but… sure."

"I can keep my hands to myself," she teased.

"I hope I can." He pulled over his cravat and flipped it around the back of his neck to start tying it.

"Don't worry: I'll go read you some stories you won't like. You'll pass riiight out."

"Tch. Fine. Blast me with that shit until I die."

She pouted, feeling just a little annoyed with the intensity of his dislike.

"Enough about you dying. I'm sure you'll pull through!" she huffed.

Now fully dressed in uniform except for his brown jacket, he gave her shoulder a squeeze and turned to the door.

"You know I'm kidding. I don't know how to die."

After a quick breakfast with the whole family, Levi left the dishes to the Rals for the first time ever and headed back upstairs to retire to bed for the longest nap possible.

"I need to maximize my resting," he told Petra once she rejoined him in the bedroom. "Hurry up and read me something I won't like."

"Gee, who on earth actually wants something they wouldn't like?"

"Me," he grunted, rolling on his side to face her with his eyes closed. "That's an order from your Captain."

She chuckled to herself and scratched her head for a moment, then headed over to her desk to recover the book Gemstones of the Walls from where she had left it. As she settled herself back on the bed and pulled her legs back up, he opened one eye to see the cover of the book on the mattress and frowned in response.

"I thought that was the book I actually did like."

"It is, but there also happens to be a little story in it," she said in a singsong voice.

He scoffed. "Okay, maybe I won't like this."

"Heh. We'll see!" And she flipped through the pages to said story and began to read:

The year 784…. One blistering hot night, a miner decided to dig under Wall Sina, to live within the inner ring. "Life in Wall Sina would be pretty nice." That thought had come to him suddenly a few days ago, as he dug with his shovel, deep in a coal mine. In a way, you could call it "divine inspiration."

Levi grunted to himself. "If he digs to the Underground, it's not gonna be so nice."

"For God's sake, the story just started. Listen!"

And so, for the next few days, he wandered along the wall, finally settling on a spot where the dense forest pressed against it. No one would chance upon him, and the overhead leaves would shelter him and his task from the prying eyes of the guards above.

"He's gonna die, isn't he? He's gonna die," he groaned, flopping his arm over his eyes. "Just put me out of my misery and tell me."

"Everyone dies sooner or later. Just listen," she huffed. After shooting him a reproachful look, she returned to the story and continued:

On the next night, he began. Using his trusty shovel, the miner began to dig. The work went smoothly, and before long, the pit was as deep as he was tall. When he could no longer fling the dirt outside it, he stuffed it into sacks, climbing a ladder to discard it. Completely dedicated to the task at hand, he took only a few short breaks to drink water and to ease his weary muscles.

Levi nodded approvingly. "He's a hardworking man. I like him."

"Well, good!"

After spending twenty years of his life digging without a day of rest, the miner knew he was an expert at it. And during that time, he'd learned to dig deeper, more quickly, and more efficiently than anyone else. Tunnels that would stump any other miner were no match for his shovel.

"Heh," Levi smirked. "That's right…" he mumbled, his words starting to slur with the lack of effort he put into enunciating. "Titans that would stomp any other man were no match for my sword…."

Petra giggled. "The whole world doesn't revolve around you, you know."

"In my world, it does," he retorted.

And she sighed wistfully, rearranging her hair away from the nape of her neck. "One of these days, they should write a tall tale about you, Captain Levi!"

"They'd damn well better! I don't do all this running around for nothing, you know…."

"How about for my undying love?"

He nodded dismissively into his pillow. "Yeah, yeah. I'll settle for love…."

And she scoffed with a playful air, pretending to be offended. "The love from your wife over the love from humanity! Priorities, Captain."

But that day was different. He dug for hours, yet never seemed to get anywhere. As he dug, he probed to either side of the main pit with his shovel, but it was of no use. The Wall's foundation seemed to go down forever, deep into the earth, blocking his path at every turn.

"We already know the Wall is made of Titans. Big-ass Colossal Titans…."

"Shhh, just keep listening."

Still, he persevered. Any thought of digging his way to an easy life inside Wall Sina had been long forgotten. He simply wanted to conquer the Wall. "I'm willing to bet all the years I've spent digging that I will beat this Wall," he said to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The hole was more than four or five times the miner's height when he struck hard rock. He wondered, "Bedrock?" But it appeared to be of the same material as the Wall's foundation itself. The miner swung his shovel down hard on the rock. The shovel shattered, but the rock was unscathed. The miner sighed, and his sigh was deeper than any hole he'd dug in the previous twenty years.

"Well, shit," he groaned. "I guess we all gotta die someday."

"That's such a morbid conclusion. We're only halfway done."

"Then how does it end already?" He reached out a hand for her book, and she shifted it a little further away from him so it was still just out of his reach.

"Fine. Here's the ending," she huffed, turning the page.

But the next day, the miner didn't show up for work. Nor the next… Nor the day after that. His friend went to his house many times, but never saw any sign of him. The miner had no relatives, nor other close friends, so there was no one to ask where he might have gone. Unsure what to do, his friend eventually went to the Garrison, and told them the whole story…. But they never found a trace of the miner, nor even the pit he'd dug. And one day, his friend also vanished, never to be seen again.

"God dammit. What'd I tell you," he grumbled. She took one look at his ornery expression and could not stop herself from pouting right back at him.

"Whatever! Look: it's supposed to leave unanswered questions!"

He rolled over in the bed with a huff, now facing away from her.

"I don't like it. I want answers."

"But you said you already know the answers! The Wall is made of Colossal Titans. The MPs knew that and they killed the miner and his friend to silence them."

"But why is the Wall made of Titans?"

She sighed as audibly as she could manage to.

"That's something you guys will have to find out. Go out and survey, like the Survey Corps should."

"Tch. I guess we'll have to. No thanks to that book."

She closed the book with a dull thump of pages clapping together between her hands. "Oh, come on. You were entertained, even so."

Not willing to concede to her point, he grumbled to himself while repositioning, crossing his arms even while attempting to sleep on his side in bed. And even through her lingering frustration, she could not help but giggle to herself behind her hand.

"If you're too grumpy to go back to sleep, there is one last thing you could try," she suggested, her voice sounding more playful again.

"Don't worry about me. Just go about your day. And wake me up a few hours before sunset."

"No no no, it's your last day here. I can't go about like any ordinary day!" She leaned in with a mischievous twinkle in her eye to explain: "Last night ended up being about me. Now today is about you."

"Okay. And what does that mean?"

She leaned in even closer to him to whisper, "Let me go down on you."

"What?" His voice was so sharp that he had outright snapped at her, and instantly regretted the harshness of his reaction.

"I'm serious: let me suck your dick," she whispered, the naughtiness heavy in her voice. "Do you know how many guys would kill to have their wives suck theirs?"

In a softer tone, he insisted, "I already told you, I don't want you to choke."

"Come on! It'll be fine. You know it'll put you right to sleep..."

And of course, he was as weak as ever for her lovely amber eyes, losing himself in leisurely, indulgent kisses while she wasted no time in pulling the ODM gear straps off his waist and opening the crotch of his pants.

"You better not bite my 'carrot' off," he grumbled, taking her head in one hand while steadying himself on the mattress with his other hand. She planted a string of slow kisses from the base to the tip of his shaft as he rapidly lengthened under the brush of her lips; he clutched at the base of her head, digging his fingertips into her scalp a little at the sensation.

"Of course not," she insisted. "But maybe just—a nibble here and there..."

"Hell no; no teeth—God dammit," he grunted, then gasped in the sudden shock of pain from her lower teeth momentarily dragging against his member.

"I'm trying not to; I'm sorry," she mumbled.

But he soon forgot her (maybe or maybe not) unintentional toothiness as she made up for it and then some by involving her tongue instead. The touch of her tongue rolling smoothly up the underside of his erection was exquisitely pleasurable to begin with, but then she began to suck on his tip, gently at first, then more determinedly, and he clutched desperately at her hair in an attempt to slow her down, to no avail. His pleasure rose higher and higher, punishingly intense and ultimately unstoppable.

"Shit—" he gasped, squeezing more tightly than ever around her head. Then he let loose a groan through his clenched teeth as he ejaculated into her mouth. Fortunately, she had sensed it coming and began swallowing his semen as he shot it down her throat in waves. When he was finally done orgasming and she was done cleaning him up, he pulled her up onto her haunches for an indulgent kiss on the mouth to show his gratitude.

She whispered naughtily when they broke away momentarily between kisses, "You're drinking your own semen, you know. Well, more of it than usual."

"So that's what I taste like," he murmured, pausing to move his tongue around in his mouth. "The fuck?"

"Mm-hmm. Interesting, huh?" And she nibbled on his lower lip with her teeth. "Kinda salty… like the sea, apparently…."

"We made a baby with this shit?"

She covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled, "We sure did."

And finally feeling spent, he collapsed back down on the bed and just managed to drag the bedsheets back over them before the urge to sleep began to cloud his mind.

"You don't taste salty, though," he muttered, mostly to himself. "You're like a lake and I'm like the sea…?"

"Sure," she chuckled with her residual humor and nodded.

"Damn," he panted, pulling her close. "You were right: I'm fucking tired all over again."

"Then my job is done," she declared smugly. "Sweet dreams, Captain…."

He moved his head in even closer and growled into her ear, "In my dreams, I'm gonna suck your dick." And he slid a hand down around the curve of her butt to illustrate.

She grinned to herself and pressed her ass more firmly onto his hand. "I know what you mean. Don't worry…."

At sunset, Levi departed to be a Captain again. He left the house already dressed in his Scout uniform and hunter green cloak, taking Petra with him by the hand. Her dress fluttered in the slight breeze as he guided her along through the front door and onto the sidewalk.

"You feel it, too, don't you?" he asked her. "Feels like the end is finally almost here..."

"I feel it, too. Whatever that means."

He scoffed to himself. "Hopefully it means we'll win, and we'll be done fighting after this. Forever."

She pulled him in for a hug, balancing on her tiptoes to reach past her belly and around the back of his neck. She breathed in the scent of his hair and felt the touch of his skin on her lips, cherishing his presence for what could very well be the last time.

"I have to go meet the top brass real quick, and then we'll be coming back out to ascend the Wall. Bringing our horses up and everything," he said. "You can go back inside if you want, or you can wait around here by the edge of town."

Her face was set. "I'm seeing you off. I'm waiting out here."

He nodded once. "Okay. Just—try not to make a scene about it. We didn't announce that we're leaving today."

"Understood," she murmured in his ear, before taking his head by the chin to kiss him on the lips. And maybe a few mere months ago, he would have grown shy at returning such a gesture in public. But this time he did not seem to care at all, and he kissed her back for even longer than the first one lasted.

When their lips finally parted, he said, "If this is the last time for us, I'll take the kiss in public over none at all."

"A wise decision, Captain," she tittered, smiling good-humoredly as she squeezed his hands in hers. "I'll be waiting for you—when you come back."

"When? Not if?"

And she gave one more resolute nod, boring her eyes into his with her determination.

"When."

Notes:

Yes, this chapter ended up being a lot of fluffy, sexy filler, but I just couldn't help myself. (And if anyone deserves to have their dick sucked, it's Captain Levi!) Apologies to anyone who felt cheated at not having gotten to retaking Wall Maria just yet. Never fear, a lot of ground will be covered in the next chapter, so strap your ODM gear on!

Chapter 27: Garden

Summary:

After the mission, the news spreads quickly: decisive victory, but at great cost.

Notes:

This chapter is shorter than my chapters usually are, but I decided that there's enough to digest in this stretch of scenes. Enjoy, and stay safe and healthy!

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Levi's Choice" – Torby Brand

True to her word, Petra waited and watched the Survey Corps as they loaded up the lifts with their horses and rode up the side of the Wall. There were 208 Scouts in all, the vast majority of whom she did not recognize. But there was also Commander Erwin, Captain Levi and his squad of young former Cadets, Section Leader Hange, Moblit by their side.

And as she looked far up above and beheld their silhouettes against the golden sunset, she was forcibly reminded of the last time she did so with Captain Levi and his squad—and how it was the last time she saw any of them alive, except for Levi himself. She swallowed down an ominous feeling that a similar fate awaited them. And would Levi be one of them this time? Was this already truly his goodbye?

But something that was different was the person in charge: humanity within the Walls was no longer a kingdom, but now a queendom. But was Queen Historia really the head of their military government, or was Premier Zachary? Did that mean the societal corruption that had taken her grandparents from her was also no longer? Or would there still be more condemning of innocents to die for the sake of others?

No, I have to stay positive, she admonished herself. Everything will be revealed in time.

She sighed audibly and closed her eyes, hugging her woolen cardigan around herself as the evening chill began to set in.

It's just like how I told the military wives. I have what I have in this moment: my parents, my baby, and my friends. And in case that's all I get, it'll have to be enough.

To Petra, the two nights of waiting passed anxiously like a fever dream. She lay awake in bed in the dark, unable to sleep, and the same for her baby who kicked and prodded her from the inside.

"It's not that time just yet," she would sigh to it, rubbing her belly where she had just been kicked. "Your father will come back soon…." And she would sigh even more heavily, hoping against hope that she was right.

Petra was at work with her parents in the morning when she heard the slowly building roar of commotion outside the shop: the Survey Corps had returned. She got to her feet as quickly as she could without falling over from the weight of her belly, and she called out to her parents, "Mother! Father! They're here!"

And she only barely registered them calling back to her, "You be careful, Petra!" before she was already out the door.

But although she had steeled herself for the usual, grisly sight of innumerable injured soldiers, she found the exact opposite: there atop the Wall stood nine silhouettes against a perfect morning blue sky, bringing their horses up the lifts behind them. She could swear that one of them was relatively shorter than the others, and a flutter of hope stirred in her stomach. One figure leaned against another for support.

She grew numb inside at the sight, unsure of what to think or feel anymore. And after a few stunned moments, she began to shove and pry her way through the crowd of cheering townsfolk to get to the front of the throng lining the main road through the city.

Surely enough, next to Hange (who worryingly had their left eye bandaged over), there was Captain Levi, somberly guiding his trusty black horse alongside him. As relieved as she was to see Levi seemingly unscathed of major injuries, she was just as shocked as anyone else to see that out of over two hundred Scouts who had departed, only nine of them returned.

And right behind the two of them, she noticed a body in a horse-drawn cart, with a green cloak wrapped securely over its face. The size and proportions of the body gave it away immediately, but the empty sleeve where a right arm should be made it even more painfully clear who it was.

"Levi! Hange!" she cried out in desperation. She stumbled forward into the road, reaching out with both hands towards them.

But after a fleeting instant of recognition, Levi's face grew impassive. He moved to block her from the cart with his body, holding out his arm to keep her away.

"Don't look."

"Commander Erwin!" she gasped, holding a hand over her mouth as she fell in step beside Levi. "Oh my God…."

Levi glanced over his shoulder at Armin shuffling behind him with downcast eyes, sensing the guilt emanating from him. Mikasa looked similarly torn. But Eren's remorse looked forced to him. Of course it would—he had gotten what he wanted, Erwin or anyone else be damned. Then he turned to Petra again.

"Go back to work. I'll find you at the shop in an hour or two, and… we'll talk."

Her face was drawn. "You'd better."

And with a heavy heart, he turned away from her to stare at the ground. He knew that he could not blame Eren. Because in the end, this was Levi's choice—this was the future he had shaped with his own two hands, and with his own decision. And whatever was to come for humanity within the Walls as a result would be because of him.

By the time he glanced back up, she was long gone, reclaimed by the sea of faces in the crowd. He sighed quietly, letting his shoulders droop a little.

Hange turned to him and cleared their throat. "I'm probably staying the obvious here, but I get the sense that your talk won't go over well. Considering this was all your decision."

"I know," he grumbled, then pursed his lips. "I want to see her, of course… but I'm not looking forward to it."

An acute wave of déjà vu washed over him as he found the shop with the hanging sign "Little Angel Flowers & Grocer" above the door, followed by a sharp, piercing headache that flooded his vision with pinprick lights as his hand made contact with the door handle. He had been there only once before, and only in a memory that felt like a dream. He half expected Kenny to worm his way through the door as it was closing behind him, but thankfully that much stayed in the nightmare where it belonged. And as he squinted through his occluded vision to seek out Petra behind the counter, she was already in front of it, pulling him into the tightest hug she could manage with her balloon of a belly in between them.

"You finally found us," she sighed, burying her face in the shoulder of his cloak. "Welcome to our shop."

He closed his eyes as he squeezed around her shoulder blades, taking stock of the pain in his head.

"Are you okay? Levi?" she asked him in a squeak. He held a hand to his forehead and shut his eyes again.

"Why don't we go home and rest," she said, taking him by the hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Her parents appeared behind her, sighing in relief to themselves at the sight of him alive.

"Yes, go get as much rest as you need," Mrs. Ral urged. "We'll finish out the day with just us two." And she and Mr. Ral nodded in reassurance at them.

"I'm sorry," Levi mumbled, swaying a little on his feet as Petra gave his hand a tug towards the door. "We gotta stop—meeting in here like this…."

The Rals gave each other confused looks as their daughter departed with her husband in tow, looking pale and troubled.

Petra held Levi by the hand as they made their way through the streets, pointedly ignoring the stares and whispers of the passerby who instantly noticed Levi's Survey Corps cloak and uniform underneath.

"How's your head?" she asked him anxiously. "Do you have a headache again?"

"Again?" he mused. And to test her own memory, he asked her, "When was the other time?"

She fell silent for a few long, awkward moments.

"Never mind," she sighed. "Maybe I was just imagining that."

He was able to walk properly now, and the sharp pain in his head from before was subsiding into a dull throbbing: still annoyingly present, but much more manageable now. They were still holding hands, their fingers securely intertwined.

"I'm okay. I could use a nap, but… it's fine."

"Then you can take one," she concluded.

But all too soon, they were home. And once the door was shut and locked behind them, he had hastily draped his cloak over the back of his dining room chair, and she had pushed him down to sit on the living room couch, her countenance grew grim. She carefully took a seat next to her as he helped her down, and he draped the blanket next to him over her body.

"Levi." She pulled the blanket more securely around her neck. "How did it all happen? How are there only nine of you left in the entire Survey Corps?"

He examined his hands resting on his knees. "That's a vague question. But you know the answer… people died. Like always."

"Even Commander Erwin died? How? Why?"

He bought himself an extra moment by moving to cross his arms—and although he knew that he did this often out of habit, right now it felt just as much like a defensive motion. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, nearly touching the wall behind them, and his voice came out quiet and low:

"He died because… I let him die."

"What?" She spoke in a horrified whisper, staring at him so intensely that he felt her gaze on him even with his eyes still closed.

"I had to choose whether to save him, or Armin." At this, he finally reopened his eyes and turned to squarely face her again. "Do you remember him?"

"Yes." Her voice was stiff and brittle. It frustrated him mightily to have his breath stopped in his chest at the sight of her beautiful eyes, only to have those same eyes hardened by disapproval. She was in no longer in any mood to celebrate his return. And sadly, he felt the same way.

"He's so full of hope," Levi asserted, trying to convince himself as much as her. "And only fifteen…."

"Our Commander is our leader," she hissed. She flopped down the part of blanket covering her upper body and gripped around the rolls of knitted fabric with her curled fingers. "What are we going to do without him?"

"Armin could be that leader, too. Now that he has the chance to keep on living."

"But Erwin was that leader now. How many more years until Armin is ready? If ever?"

Levi narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you saying I should have sacrificed a fifteen-year-old instead?" And he added more quietly, "If Armin were our kid, is that what you would say?"

Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes, but she willed herself to follow through with her thought process, no matter how much it would hurt him to hear it.

"Your reasoning now is fueled by your emotion. So that means… your decision to save Armin over Commander Erwin was borne of emotion. Not reason."

He stared at his fingers tucked between his chest and his bicep, digging into his brown jacket.

"Maybe. But… is it so wrong to want to honor my emotions? Isn't that what you and I did back then?"

"But at what cost?" she gasped, turning her face away and closing her own eyes to hold her tears in. "Commander Erwin… oh my God…."

"Erwin was ready to die… he charged off, knowing that he probably would."

She sniffed and pulled up the corner of the blanket to dab at the corners of her eyes. "And there really was no other way?"

He shook his head. "No."

They both fell silent, with only Petra crying quietly while still facing away from him. He dug around in his jacket pocket and slid a clean handkerchief over to her, but she made no motion to accept it, so he sighed and rested it on the couch cushion next to her.

"You know," she began again, glancing at his handkerchief and looking away again. "He told me, the day he rescued me, but did he ever tell you he forgave you? For knocking me up?"

"Levi," Erwin said, looking up again at him from the crate he was sitting on. "You remember when we first met, you weren't fond of following the rules..."

The silence between their words was filled with the slamming sound of rocks destroying the houses shielding them, and the panicked screams of their new recruits cowering near their horses.

"Tch. You're damn right."

"But then, you decided to devote your life to the Survey Corps. And you trusted in me. You followed my orders—no matter what."

Levi gave a tacit nod. "That's right."

"Then what happened? With Petra. Why... couldn't you follow through and focus?"

He pursed his lips in brief contemplation. "I guess I got tired. And I wanted to be a human being again."

"Not just that. You stood up for yourself—for what you wanted. You didn't lose yourself in an impossible dream, the way I did. Your dream was much easier to achieve."

Another bang of rocks on wood roared even more loudly now. The barrage struck closer to them every time, and their time was shorter than ever.

"I'm sorry I treated you the way I did. The truth is, I think a part of me was just a little envious of you."

And Levi stared at his feet, downcast.

"I loved someone once, too," Erwin admitted in a rare moment of vulnerability. "But I chose the Survey Corps. And she ended up marrying my best friend."

"I see..."

Levi raised his eyes back to Erwin in time to see him give a single nod.

"Go back home to her, Levi. Don't waste your life. Even if everyone else out there has to die today... live. Survive."

Levi held a newly determined look etched into his features.

"I will."

"Then even Moblit didn't come back," Petra concluded, recalling who was in the returning group. "God. And I just saw his parents at the last meeting…."

Another, even more painful stretch of silence grew.

"I'm sure the truth is more complicated than 'It was Erwin or Armin,'" she continued. "And I know I wasn't there to judge anything, but…." She shook her head slowly. "I still think I would have chosen differently than you."

He found himself staring at the edelweiss in the planter box next to him, contemplating its white petals glowing ethereally in the afternoon's indirect light. He knew that she was always entitled to her own opinion: she was allowed to have a mind of her own. But never had it been this difficult—this painful to disagree.

She sniffed, "You know, every time you come back, it's like an omen for whatever bad news is about to come out of your mouth. I wish that you could just come home with no bad news... Come home just because you want to."

He shifted in his seat, feeling his frustration rising higher. "Do you want me to lie to you by omission? Bad things happen. You can't escape them. I'm not causing the bad things to happen; I'm just the messenger."

To that, she gave no response.

"And you can only get through them," he added. "And hope that there will be something better in the future."

She finally reached over and accepted his handkerchief to wipe at her nose. But her words were still not forgiving:

"You still don't see what I mean, huh?" she asked in a subdued voice. "Commander Erwin was that hope. All of humanity believed he was. And he proved it to us, again and again."

She uncrumpled his handkerchief, refolded it, and set it back down on the couch cushion.

"Armin's a good kid. But he lacks Erwin's charisma. Or experience. What chance does he have to take Erwin's place?"

"Nobody's taking Erwin's place. Hange is the new Commander. And Armin… is himself."

She shook her head again, and her disapproval cut him like a blade.

"Then I just don't think that that poor kid can be enough. To be what we need him to be."

Petra stood up, casting the blanket down onto the side of the couch she had just vacated.

"You stay in here and rest. On the couch or in my room." And she headed for the back door, closing the door with an unusually loud thwump behind her.

Petra sat on the wooden bench in the backyard, stretching and massaging her legs poking out underneath her skirt. And she gazed at her family's two apple trees in the cold, late autumn weather, losing their leaves after having long lost their fruit to the cycle of the seasons. And Levi went to her room: her inner sanctum where she would contemplate things alone and spend innumerable hours in her bed alone at night, waiting for him to come home. But now that he was finally home, he was merely watching her from afar out her bedroom window while she sat and brooded and cried some more. The sight of her made him anxious and worried, which made him build a knot in the pit of his stomach. And he realized that they were finally in their first serious argument, and he had no idea what else he could do about it but give her space.

The bed was there, freshly made and beckoning to his exhausted body, but his mind was too wired with anxiety to quiet down enough to sleep. Nevertheless, he hung his jacket on the back of her desk chair, laid down on top of the bed covers, and kicked off his boots. He closed his eyes intermittently but never slept, opening them every now and then to stare at the afternoon sunlight crawling up the wall as the sun began to set.

I can't leave her out there to get cold, he decided at last. Even if she's still pissed at me, she's just going to have to be pissed.

And he headed down to the backyard in his jacket, carrying her own Survey Corps jacket from her closet. She turned to see him as the door swung open, her eyes finally dried of tears.

"Don't get too cold," he said simply, and he draped her jacket over the back of her shoulders.

"Heh. Is that an order, then?" she scoffed, sounding a bit more lighthearted. "How on earth is this thing still going to fit me?"

"'Cause I'll help you."

And he indeed lifted the jacket to help her push each arm into the armholes. Thankfully she could still wear it around her arms and back without having to fasten the front. She chuckled self-deprecatingly at the sight of her belly bulging out way past the point that the jacket could hope to cover.

"Well, this'll keep me warm enough, but the baby's still out in the cold."

Nevertheless, when he hugged her from behind, pulling his arms around her upper arms, she hugged his arms back and dipped her head.

"It was a hard thing you had to do—to make that kind of choice," she sighed.

He murmured in her ear, "It was. That's all I wanted you to understand... That, and… people need to have a reason to keep on living. Armin has that. And Erwin… didn't."

She nodded. "There are times in life when dying would be so much easier than keeping on living. Aren't there. And you wanted that for Commander Erwin."

"Yeah."

He hugged her fiercely to him, then let her go to take a seat beside her. They looked first at each other, then Petra turned back to behold the cramped garden of skeletal trees and roses in barrels before them, awash with the golden light of evening. The sound of insects and birds chirping filled the air, subtly and soothingly to the mind.

"I wonder what will come first," she mused, "the apple blossoms again in spring…" and she rested her hands on her belly, "or this baby."

"We'll just have to wait and see," he concluded with a nod.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, turning to him again. "I never said it yet, but… I'm glad you survived. So… thank you."

"No need to thank me," he grunted. "I promised you I would, so I did."

"Well," she huffed, "you know… I'm biased too. 'Cause if I had to choose between Commander Erwin and you, I'd choose you."

He scoffed. "Really? Humanity be damned?"

And she sighed, albeit with a subtle smile upon her lips. "Maybe. Just maybe." She gave a pause. "Well, anyway… I like to think I would."

He tentatively leaned in a little closer to her to gauge her willingness to kiss him, and surely enough, she pulled him the rest of the way to her by his lapels. And in that moment, the softness and taste of her lips upon his was like the most delicious fruit in the world.

Chapter 28: Child of Spring

Summary:

Petra and Levi finally welcome the child they had been dreaming of.

Notes:

Sorry this one took so long, folks. I am not joking: this chapter has been in the works for a year. Yes, that is how long the alternate reality detour took. If you liked it, I'm glad you did; but if you wanted to get out of it already, then congratulations!

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Counter Attack-Mankind (Attack on Titan Piano)" – Aleta & Samuel Kim (Attack on Titan: Piano Collection)

In the gradual aftermath of the mission—and of Levi's decision—he found himself in many awkward situations. Every member of the military he ran into would give him a side-eyed glance as they walked by, or stare just a beat too long for comfort before going about their business. People also seemed to whisper in hushed tones amongst themselves as he approached, then dutifully shut up as he came within earshot.

And he was becoming even grumpier than usual at the renewed sense of judgment from others; he had not experienced this level of thinly concealed disapproval from his comrades since when he first joined the Survey Corps. Maybe he had always been just one incomprehensible decision away from becoming a pariah in their eyes all over again. Maybe they would never truly shake their prejudiced impression of him as an Underground rat who did not think like them and did not belong among them.

Facing Petra's differing opinion had been just the beginning: it seemed to be the opinion shared by everyone else. But all he could do was hold his head up high and be steadfast in the decision he had made: he had chosen Armin over Erwin. He had wanted Armin to lead them into the future—one in which they all were propelled by hope, rather than dragged along by a dogged sense of duty. To honor those who had given their lives, Levi wanted to hope that nobody else would have to give theirs in the endless cycle of death and revenge that had fueled their every move since before anyone could remember.

The knowledge of that truth gnawed away at Levi's newfound sense of security after the end of the fighting. The war was not over; rather, they were merely in a lull between battles. Resting, regrouping, and gathering information to prepare for what lay ahead: the outside world, full of people who viewed them as the enemy. When the Rals read the announcement to each other over the dining table, Levi saw the anxiety in their eyes. The three of them stared wordlessly at each other, then at Levi, who crossed his arms, sighed, and closed his own eyes, letting the heavy truth wash over him yet again:

The true identity of the Titans who've threatened us are humans. They have the same ancestry as us. We are 'Subjects of Ymir.' Our King erected these walls 100 years ago. He then altered our memories using Titan powers and made us believe humanity outside the walls was wiped out. But in fact, humanity hasn't perished. When speaking of Subjects of Ymir, they call us this: a race of devils. In the near future, the enemy will invade our lands to obtain resources. Their plans began five years ago with the attack of the Colossal Titan.

And deep down inside, Levi was hurting more than any of them could know. Because he had fewer people to care about than anyone else he knew (other than Mikasa, who thought only of Eren). Levi missed Erwin so deeply that it felt like acid eating away at the hole where his heart belonged. And he knew that he had done this to himself: he had willingly let go of the best mentor and father figure he had ever had—all for a boy he now felt compelled to take responsibility for in Erwin's place. He, Levi, had no right to complain about losing Erwin. He had decided that it was Erwin's time to die, and Erwin himself had agreed.

But Levi was selfish anyway: he did not want to have to sacrifice anyone he cared about. And the fact that he did just that was troubling to him in a way it had never been before. The extent of his failure settled into the back of his conscience, dogging him every day and night—all those Scouts who had sacrificed themselves with Erwin, only for him to fail to kill the Beast Titan….

But thank goodness for Petra, who found it in herself to keep moving forward without Erwin, too. When they lay in bed at night and he heaved a sigh, she could always pull him in for a steadfast hug that he never admitted he needed. Levi had ample time to spend at home now, and he spent it making good on promises. He got the Engineer Corps to install plumbing in the neighborhood, which took one uncomfortable week of dealing with construction workers pulling up the aging floorboards and digging into the dirt foundations as they laid the pipes to connect them to the rest of the city's water system. And it filled him with pride to see the Rals' eyes light up in amazement when they turned the kitchen sink knob on and watched fresh water gush from the spout for the first time.

And just as promised, once the snow brought winter with it, Levi took Petra to the local holiday market in Trost, making sure she was well-bundled up in a winter coat and the red scarf she still had lying around. (He thought to himself that she almost looked as if she had icicles hanging down from her head for hair: the tips were still platinum blonde, while her strawberry blonde roots were steadily growing in.) And of course, any public appearance warranted his long green Survey Corps jacket. She sighed to herself that he looked as sharply dressed and handsome as always in a color that suited him so well.

She grew excited so easily, pointing at all sorts of glittering tree ornaments and mouth-watering baked goods, then waving him away and denying wanting them after all when he offered to buy each thing that had caught her eye. Despite her protests, she would sheepishly accept the occasional gingerbread cookie or novel flavor of chocolate bar from him anyway, nibbling a few bites and sticking the rest of it in his face until he gave in and took a bite as well. True to form, he would merely say, "Not bad" in response to everything, no matter how delicious she thought it was. In particular, the white chocolates and candied fruits were so good that she insisted they go back and buy enough for the whole family. Ever a good sport, he carried the paper bags for her in one hand and held her hand with the other.

And when she finally admitted to him that her feet hurt, he got each of them a mug of dark chocolate peppermint tea from a vendor and helped her to sit on a bench corner while he stood next to her, watching their fellow shoppers pass by. The piping hot drink soothed their throats and wafted its sweet scent into their eager noses, warming them up from the insides out; they smiled at each other and watched each other's breath come out in puffs in the chilly air. Sometimes Petra would reach out a hand or call out to stop someone to ask them which vendors had what they were carrying, while Levi would nod politely along as he listened to her make conversation with strangers.

When they saw a middle-aged woman guide an oil-blotted paper bag of some kind of pastry into her carrying bag slung over her shoulder, Petra suddenly perked up, her eyes gleaming.

"You know what we should do? We should make holiday cookies ourselves!" she gushed. "Do you remember the ones I baked for you last year?"

He gave a smirk. "How could I forget?"

"Well, come on! It's getting late to be outside anyway."

And she got to her feet, chugged the rest of her tea, and pulled him along to return their mugs to the vendor and hurry home to humor her brilliant idea.

As Levi watched her reaching towards the kitchen cabinet of staple ingredients, he slowly realized that Petra must have bought a sack of sugar at some point earlier. And sugar wasn't cheap.

She grinned sheepishly at him as, surely enough, she produced a small, half-full sack of sugar and dragged it down to the counter with a soft thwump. He heaved a sigh of resignation and brought the sack of flour down from the shelf to join it.

"I didn't spend all our money on it, okay?" she insisted, then cleared her throat and loosened the knot of the drawstring around the neck of the sack. "If it makes you feel better, you can just think of it as my money that I spent on it."

"If I can't afford the luxury of sugar, then you definitely can't afford it, either."

"But we combined our earnings, so together we can afford it."

He snorted, "So then, you admit it was our money, not just yours." And he grumbled under his breath, "I guess whatever was left after buying that mattress went to buying sugar, of all things…."

She fished three eggs out from a carton on the countertop pushed against the wall. "And how many birthdays and holidays are going to pass us by while we wait for sugar to be cheap enough for whatever your standard is? What happened to living for today?"

"Tch." He gave a petulant frown. "I still think you could have spent the money on more nutritious food. Like meat for protein." Nevertheless, he rolled up his sleeves and fished around under the counter for a mixing bowl.

She grinned smugly at him and propped her hands on her hips. "Well, hey, you liked the cookies. You ate 'em alllll up!"

He sighed. "Yeah. They were… good."

"Oh?" And she leaned in closer to his face to tease him. "Even better than 'not bad', eh?"

"Heh, that's right."

Petra's parents returned home late with cheery greetings, boasting of record profits from the holiday season fueled by a newfound exuberance in consumer spending. The economy was good when Titans were no longer on people's minds. The rest of the world could wait: the holidays were now. And right now had never felt so safe.

Levi was hard at work tending a pot of stew on the stovetop while Petra was industriously rolling cookie dough into perfect spheres and pressing them gently down onto sheets of waxed paper spread on the dining table.

"Dinner's on the way," Levi told them, glancing over his shoulder for a few lingering moments at Petra. "And dessert, too."

"You come here and make a few, too," Petra insisted. "I can feel you staring anyway." She smiled expectantly at him until he gave a lighthearted scoff to himself and left the stew to simmer. He scooped a small lump of dough into his hands and rolled it around in between his cupped palms as he observed her demonstrating, then he gave it the slightest press downward until it stuck onto the waxed paper, slightly flattened but still perfectly rounded.

"Nicely done!" Mrs. Ral declared. "Now you're a Ral in yet another way."

And Levi and the Rals had yet another lovely night, full of joyful chatter, good food, delicious tea, and a dessert that tasted even better than Levi remembered. Every cookie was a golden burst of sweetness and light, like Petra herself condensed into the product of her love—for her family, for her husband, for the joys of the holidays, and for the blessings of life itself.

"It's already been a year, huh," Levi mused aloud before popping a second cookie in his mouth.

Petra sighed and leaned her head on one hand, watching him eat contentedly. "It's crazy, huh? So much has happened…. I mean, we got married and everything…."

"You got that right," Mr. Ral scoffed, but with a hint of a chuckle mixed in.

"A year since what?" Mrs. Ral asked.

"Since I last baked him these cookies," Petra sighed again. "You really did like them, huh?"

And Levi gave her a little smile, which she knew spoke volumes.

"I liked how they tasted for sure… but even more than that, I liked that you made them. For me."

Her ginger complexion plainly showed her blushing while her parents tittered to each other and Levi smiled again, this time just the slightest bit broader.

Their birthdays passed in a blur of contentment and celebration: first Petra's, then Levi's a few weeks later. And through the winter, Levi stayed a little more often, but never quite often enough. Sometimes he would leave for a few days at a time to check in with the newly-appointed Commander Hange, who was always brainstorming about something in the future: cleanup of the bodies of the horses and humans left strewn throughout the countryside that the Garrison would undertake once the snow melted, the plans to allow settlers back into Wall Maria after that, and eventually exploring beyond the Walls until they reached the ocean.

And Queen Historia had big dreams to help the needy within the Walls—both from the Surface and Underground. And she had complicated plans of her own to reach those dreams. She needed a trusted advisor to help her navigate the politics of the military government they had installed under her—she needed Captain Levi by her side….

One night in bed, Levi cuddling Petra from behind as usual, he murmured in her ear:

"I really wish you were all the way ginger again already."

"Why?" She turned her head a little to see him a little better out of the corner of her eye.

He chose his words carefully so as not to alarm her needlessly: "You being blonde, it's... confusing."

She gave a pause. "Why? Why does it matter whether I'm blonde or ginger?"

He sighed quietly, burying his nose into the back of her hair.

"You used to be the only one I knew with your hair color. Now... I just happen to know a lot of other blondes, too."

"Like who? Armin? And Erwin?"

He nodded, vaguely feeling a pang of guilt at her comparing them to each other again.

"And Historia?" she added more quietly.

At this, he heaved a louder sigh.

"Never mind. It probably just means I should stay at home more often."

Petra settled her head back into the pillow, but now feeling vaguely concerned herself.

"It does. I miss you."

He leaned over her face, reached over to turn her chin around towards him, took a long look into her eyes in the glowing blue lamplight, and felt reassured at their color: amber, not blue like Historia's. This was Petra in his arms—his beloved wife, always on his mind whether he was with her or far away from her.

"I miss you, too," he admitted. "Every time I'm gone." And he gave her a kiss on the lips to reassure her of that.

Petra admitted that there were nights alone when she wondered if what she felt was jealousy, or simple loneliness. It wasn't easy having a famous, influential husband who was in demand by everybody. And she recognized that she was not in demand by anybody—except by that famous, influential man, who made sure to write her a letter with every stint away. And with each new letter, he reaffirmed how important she was to him—and reaffirmed for her that he loved her, and that he would, indeed, always come back to her. With the three-fourths of his (modest but still comfortable) salary coming steadily, supplemented with her own off-duty pension, Petra and her baby found themselves with more than enough. She spent it frugally and set aside the rest for the baby—waiting, as she always was now, for the coming future that drew a little closer with every passing day.

Now seven months pregnant in mid-January, Petra waited on the couch, lying down and deeply napping. But when she heard the front door opening, thumping shut, and clicking locked again, she blearily opened her eyes and took in the sight of Levi standing in his Scout uniform and a full canvas sack slung over his shoulders.

"Levi!" She sat up slowly, pushing herself up with her hands. "You're home early."

"Well, I ran away early. Hange is a lot more lenient than Erwin was with that..."

He pulled her up to stand so he could hug her, and he rested his chin on her shoulder as he usually did, but the enormity of her belly forced him to get on his tiptoes now.

"Heh, this baby just keeps getting bigger," she sighed. "But I think it's finally slowing down."

"Then maybe it's almost done growing in there," he concluded. "I'll make dinner; you rest."

So Petra sat at the kitchen table with her arms hanging down at her sides, watching Levi take off his Scout jacket and draping it around the back of his chair. She sighed wistfully at the sight of him in his buttoned shirt and ODM gear straps, rolling up his shirt sleeves to wash his hands. His lean, well-muscled forearms flexing as he chopped carrots were hard not to take notice of. And she giggled a little to herself when she admitted that she liked to stare at him just as often as he liked to stare at her.

"You know, seeing you in your uniform," she mused, "it reminds me of how I used to wear the same one, back in the day..."

"Has it really been that long already since you did? Maybe only six or seven months."

She rubbed her hands on her enormous, swollen belly.

"I wonder if I've already forgotten how to be a soldier myself. Before I know it, all I'll know how to do is be a mother. Like any other woman."

Levi looked over from his task, knife blade resting on the cutting board. "What's so wrong with being an ordinary woman? With having a baby?"

She was reminded of how she had felt very ordinary indeed when spending time with her friends from the social group. And how feeling ordinary somehow had felt like the best thing in the world after a lifetime of being extraordinary—of being a female Scout.

"Oh, nothing... You're right. There are good things about having what everyone else has in life. Aren't there."

And they smiled furtively at each other, falling for each other ever harder. After a few lingering moments, Levi returned to cutting the vegetables, then scooping them into the pot.

She got up, walked over to him, and hugged him from behind, resting her cheek on his back between his shoulder blades. Her belly pressed up against the small of his back. And she murmured in his ear, "If I could, I'd do it all over again."

He smirked and murmured back to her, "Me, too."

When Levi could stay, he slept in her bed next to her, with her growing belly taking up more and more space on the mattress. But they made the most of it. By the candlelight on her bedside table, they could murmur comfortingly to each other in the dark, hold hands or cuddle in each other's arms, and if one of them had a nightmare, Levi would get up and make herbal tea. Even if he was the one having the bad night, he would always push her back down and tell her to rest, for her and their baby's sakes.

On one such night, deep into the February winter, Levi awoke sweaty and shivering, laying on his back. And although he always tried his best not to disturb Petra, she always somehow knew to wake up when he was awake.

"Levi?" she half-whispered over to his dim shadow next to her. "Are you awake?"

He sighed quietly and slowly sat up.

"Just a bad dream," he said. "Just… stuff that could've happened—but didn't."

He sighed and lay back down on his back. They lay for a moment, listening to each other breathing.

"Like what?" she asked finally.

Another pause, filled only by the whispers of their breath.

"Don't worry about it; go back to sleep," he muttered.

"Can you go back to sleep?" she asked.

He blinked once, washing away the lingering images from his vision.

"I'll try," he said at last.

"Do you want me to make us tea?"

He shook his head. "No. You should rest."

He closed his eyes tentatively, still remembering his dreams—so vivid and gut-wrenchingly real that he could scarcely believe they were truly only dreams: trying to save Erwin again and again, and failing every time; trying to save Petra, again and again, and failing every time—except for this time…. He reached his hand out in the dark, grasping the air, searching… and as his fingers made contact with her own outstretched hand, he felt a tiny, electric tickle jump between their skin, joining him to her, and her to him.

I love you, he told her telepathically, if only to humor himself. I'm not going to fill your head with the shit that's swimming around in mine. I want a peaceful life for you, and me, and that baby in there. Whatever could have been, doesn't matter; what matters is what is. I'm here with you now, and you're okay… and you don't know how grateful I am for that.

The air filled with the quiet sounds of their breathing, pulsing with their heartbeats.

"Levi," she murmured to him in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure it's hard—whatever you're going through 'upstairs.' But—just close your eyes and be right here with me."

He obliged, taking a deep breath in through his nose and letting it out slowly.

"You're home now," she reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze. "You're safe."

He nodded into his pillow while gazing into her eyes.

"I know. I am."

Time seemed to them to be speeding up, almost bubbling away like froth in a bathtub, whispering as it dissolved into milky water. Petra could almost hear Levi's voice in the back of her head, urging her to "skip to the end already."

As winter began its descent into spring, it was announced that Wall Maria was free of Titans. Due to the large influx of Titans over the course of five years, Hange theorized that very few Titans remained beyond the Walls. The Survey Corps had imminent plans for the next expedition: to reach the sea from Grisha Yeager's memories, and Eren and Armin's long-held dream.

And Levi thought to himself that he "eradicated the Titans" just in time to keep his promise to do so—just in time for the birth of his and Petra's baby. Yet they both knew that the victory was sadly short-lived, as merely eradicating the Titans on the island was just the beginning of the struggle to come to secure the enduring safety of the people in the Walls.

But it was spring, Petra was due any day now, and even though Levi had never asked for a personal favor from his Commander before, Commander Hange was plenty willing to postpone the expedition until after Petra gave birth. So, for however long it took, Levi was given a leave of absence to be at home with her all day, every day, until it was time.

Levi lit a stout, white candle for Petra so she could gaze at the glowing yellow flame on the chair next to her in the bathtub. And he took a seat on the chair next to that, straddling the back of the chair with his legs and leaning his arms over the top of the seat back.

"I'm so tired," Petra sighed wearily, closing her eyes to savor the heat of the bath water. "Thank you for the candle... and for drawing the bath, of course..."

"Don't mention it."

"I could just fall asleep right here..." She perched her shoulders over the rim of the tub and extended her legs to stare at the bulge of her belly (and her belly button turned inside out) above the water level.

"In that case, I'd better stay here with you," Levi declared. "So you don't slide in and drown."

She tilted her head back and sighed again. "Would you stay with me here all night?"

"Of course." He watched her face carefully, searching for any sign of something going wrong.

"Aren't there still things for you to do to prepare for the expedition?"

"There's always more to do. But it can wait."

He got down to sit on the folded towel next to the tub and reached over to hold her hand. She blinked slowly as they looked at each other, and they leaned into each other for a gentle kiss. They kissed a second time, a little more deeply now, but it was cut short, punctuated by her sudden tensing and a stifled gasp from her lips.

"What?" His voice came out sharp and cautious. "What is it?"

She gaped again, staring down at herself now. "I think... my water just broke..."

They both took notice of the sudden rise in water level, to the point where the tub was now starting to overflow onto the kitchen floor. She sat up straighter, lifting herself up from the tub with his help to stop the water from splashing further over the rim.

"Aww shit," she grumbled. "I didn't get to shampoo my hair yet."

"That's the only thing you can think about right now?"

He leaned over and blew out the candle next to them.

"Let's go. Where do you want to go? Still here in the tub? The living room? The bedroom?"

"I want to shampoo my hair," she sniffed.

"God dammit," he grunted. "Here, I'll do it—"

He wetted her hair for her, lathered up her scalp, and rinsed her head off in the span of one minute.

"Thank you," she purred, sliding her hands through her squeaky-clean hair.

"Okay—now let's get you out of here."

He helped her to stand and more or less carried her out of the tub, setting her down on her feet on the towel he had just been sitting on. He helped her towel off quickly and pulled a maternity bra and a clean dress over her head (no panties needed anymore).

"Mother! Father!" Petra yelled out towards the stairs. "Come help me!"

In a flurry of thumping feet down the stairs, her parents burst into the kitchen, their eyes wide.

"Sweetie?" her mother asked. "Is it time?"

Petra pursed her lips and nodded urgently, starting to strain again with another round of cramping. Levi guided her hands to the back of the nearest chair for support.

"I'll get the doctor," Levi decided. "Your parents are here."

And he threw on his long green coat and burst out through the front door into the frigid evening.

It was spring, in the early morning: the time of new flowers blooming, when the daily rain showers begat new life. Petra had been in the living room next to the couch, in labor for the whole rest of the evening and through the night, being fed cut-up pieces of fruit and sips of water and tea, and she was too exhausted to process what the physician was even saying to her or to anyone else. She wondered how much liquid she had drank, and how much blood she was losing from between her legs in return. She couldn't see the contents of the metal basin beneath her, but she could smell blood in the air…. A roar of silence filled her head with faintness, and she slowly, inevitably closed her eyes.

Then she heard voices urging her to open her eyes, and Levi's strong grip shaking her by the shoulders.

"Petra! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!" Levi's voice rang shrilly, more and more desperately in her ears. She nodded weakly and let her head continue to droop.

"Petra, wake up. Stay with us," the physician's steely calm voice ordered her. "The baby's almost out."

"Hmm…?" Petra mumbled. And she slammed her eyes shut at a fresh contraction seizing her.

"You're awake?" Levi demanded, his voice audibly strained. "You're alive?"

"Yes, asshole!" she snapped back at him. "Now help me or shut up!"

And with Levi helping to prop her up on her knees, she squeezed her eyes shut again, gave a final few, desperate pushes over the basin, and the baby's crowned head shot out of her into Levi's waiting hands underneath her.

The baby shrieked and cried, Levi helped the physician pour water over the baby to clean it, and he held his trusty hunting knife over a candle flame to sterilize it before slicing the umbilical cord with it. Petra slowly leaned forward onto his shoulder in utter exhaustion, shivering and sweating all over his white dress shirt. And she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt still more contractions come, and the physician repositioned the basin underneath her again to catch the placenta as it passed out of her. At the moment of expulsion, she was so overcome with relief that at first she almost did not notice the feeling of a rush of energy leaving her body. Unlike the sudden moment it had been kindled, it now faded away slowly. That curious feeling of raw, unbridled power was now no longer hers to command. But now, there was their baby, out in the world at last, who quickly transitioned from screaming to cooing happily and reaching upward toward her father's probing finger.

Their baby was an Ackerman, and she surely looked it. It was a girl with thick, black hair like her father, and beautifully round, amber eyes like her mother. The baby's eyes grew wide and inquisitive as she was passed from person to person, bringing beaming smiles to their faces as they held her. Petra trembled with the stress on her body from giving birth as she half-lay on the couch, held her swaddled baby to her chest, and closed her eyes with relief for some blissfully long minutes. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her breathing was quick, but all she could focus on was her baby—part her, part him, and both of theirs together.

"Do you want him to hold her for a bit?" the physician asked her eventually.

Petra opened her eyes and smiled wearily.

"Of course…."

She held their baby out to Levi, who took her timidly into his hands again, then cradled her in his arms. The baby's golden eyes shone in perfect complement with the dark green jacket draped on the back of the nearby chair that caught her eye—she was a true child of the Survey Corps, made incarnate through love in the midst of death. And Levi thought to himself that she reminded him of a baby version of his own mother. An echo of her, but also different….

"It's a girl," he mumbled to Petra. "You do the naming."

"Can we name her Nifa?" she asked him quietly. "I think she'd appreciate that…."

He heaved a sigh, letting his gaze grow distant as if thinking about something, but then he nodded approvingly, glancing between the baby in his arms and Petra sitting up on the couch. The little baby looked back up at him and reached out her hand towards his face, grasping the air with her tiny delicate fingers. He marveled at this little human and offered his pointer finger for her to grab, and she wrapped all five fingers around it.

"Nifa Ackerman. It sounds… perfect."

She nodded, too, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion finally overtake her again. The soft, inviting arms of sleep and pleasant dreams embraced her, soothing her cramping and pains away, and she sighed at the image burned into her eyes of her husband and her baby smiling down upon her. Everything had gone so very differently than planned, and yet somehow, it had ended the way that only dreams could—perfectly. Or as close to it as it could get.

As their lips parted after the kiss, Petra gave a tiny smile and gazed back at the sight of the garden before them, with the two apple trees at its heart. Their leaves were turning brown and falling off their branches, leaving them naked and cold in the autumn twilight. Levi surmised that if trees could shiver, they probably would be.

"You know," she began, resting her hands on her belly, "our garden has… a little secret."

He raised an eyebrow and eyed her warily out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh yeah?"

"My parents planted those apple trees when I was born. They buried my placenta with the seeds. And now, every summer, they grow the best apples around."

"Heh," he scoffed. "So that's what placentas are, then: garden fertilizer."

"Of course! Why not?"

"Well, they didn't say that in the pregnancy book."

"So? Family doesn't live in a book," she insisted, pointing at the bases of the trees. "Family lives at home."

He pursed his lips in good humor, recalling the taste of the Rals' apples.

Not bad.

"Captain," Mrs. Ral said to him, dipping her hands into the fluid-filled basin still on the floor. "Look at the placenta. They call this the Tree of Life that nourishes every baby in the womb."

And she lifted the placenta with her submerged hands to float on top of the fluid in the basin: bluish purple veins arranged throughout the bright red, meaty flesh, like an inverted tree growing downward, spreading its branches.

Their twin apple trees in the backyard garden were blooming in tones of delicate pink and white, setting the backdrop for the abundance of springtime all around them. Every flower upon the boughs would soon bear fruit—apples to harvest in the fall, to eat, enjoy, and share. The fragrance of the blossoms permeated the air.

Mr. Ral pointed at the trees, glancing over at Levi. "You see these apple trees here? All the apples we sell are from these trees. Guess when we planted them: back when Petra was born."

"Heh," Levi said. "She told me as much."

"So today, we bury your daughter's placenta in her honor now." His chest swelled with pride as he beamed at his son-in-law.

Levi dug the holes—one at the base of each tree—and Mr. Ral cut the placenta in two. He waited for Levi to do the honors of dropping one half into each hole, and they both helped with burying them securely under the dirt.

Levi gave a nod of finality when they were done.

"From one generation to another," he declared quietly.

And with that, Mr. Ral laid his hand proudly on his son-in-law's shoulder, savoring the moment of the two of them together, and bearing witness to their intertwining family trees—the Ackermans and Rals—growing together from that day forward.

Chapter 29: Awakening

Summary:

After their long dream, Levi and Petra return to reality, finding their relationship irrevocably changed and unwittingly causing a ripple of unseen consequences.

Notes:

Happy Holidays, everyone! This chapter is another one that's shorter than the 10,000-word chapters I used to do, but brace yourselves anyway for a lot of significant things in it.

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Call of Silence (Piano Cover)" – Aleta & Samuel Kim

DAY 3 CONTINUED

When Petra finally opened her eyes and lifted her head again, she noticed Levi pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"What are you doing?" she murmured. "Did you just… have a headache, too?"

He lowered his fingers from his nose and nodded at her.

"I imagined it, too… no, I remembered…" she said.

Their eyes met.

"Another timeline," he added. "All that happened—to some other versions of 'us'." He sighed.

She nodded slowly. "Huh. I admit, I liked that story, too…. At least I didn't have to die in it."

She tucked her hair behind her ear and started to blush.

"Did you also, um, feel something when we were... you know… upstairs?"

He cleared his throat and furtively shifted his waistband around with one hand. "It's going away now, but… yeah."

She giggled and nodded, still pink in the cheeks, but as her laughter faded, her gaze went distant as she reminisced. "Wow, I really had a baby… a girl…."

"I wonder if we ever have a boy in another timeline," he mused with a scoff.

"No, I think you were meant to be a girl daddy," she insisted. "I get the feeling that a boy would just make you grumpier, once he starts to take after you…."

He chuckled the slightest bit to himself. "You're probably right." And he scoffed again. "Watch it be a boy after all, now that we just said all that. You'd better think of some boy names, too, just in case."

"Hey, why do I have to come up with all the names? Can't you think of any that you'd want?"

He sighed, thinking now of the men that he had known, and whose memories he would like to keep alive somehow.

"I guess I can think of some," he admitted. "We'll see what we get, and we'll decide then."

She nodded curtly, smoothing her hair with her hand.

"Sounds good."

They both lapsed into silent contemplation for what seemed like minutes on end.

The whole time that Levi had watched the alternate version of himself going through life so boldly, it had felt exhilarating to see. In a sense, that was him, but also everything more he wished he had had the courage to be. That version of him had dared to kiss her, and sleep with her, and get down on one knee and propose to her. And even to ask her how someone so beautiful (and beautiful at heart) could possibly love someone like him, with wretched nightmares for bedfellows and emotional stunting, crushing self-doubts, and self-loathing for handicaps by day. Even though he was technically still Levi, that Levi had managed to make different decisions than he would have made. Could he find the courage within himself to speak his mind as well?

And the longer Levi was pensive, the more dissatisfied he grew. Everything had converged at the birth of their baby: the story of their alternate selves had ended at this natural point in time. But he still felt as if he had been hurtling onward toward something else when it had been interrupted in favor of a happy ending—to quit while they were ahead.

"Still, though," Levi said. "Everything was so easy at the end. Too easy."

Petra frowned. "What do you mean? I'm the one who gave birth, not you."

His face was grim. "I mean… you lost enough blood that you passed out. Just like your mother did. You almost died..."

And she felt the blood start to drain from her own face.

"But I didn't."

"No. You were lucky. You woke up quickly and it ended happily—and you had the baby and survived."

They gave each other meaningful looks.

Petra sighed wistfully. "It was a lovely dream, at any rate…. I'll remember it. It was… sad sometimes, but also beautiful."

"Well, it was a perfect kind of dream. It ended happily for us, but… every story could have a happy ending if you end it in just the right place."

He paused, watching her expression fall. And he cursed himself internally for feeling driven to keep on running his pessimistic mouth off and ruining her happiness. But he could not help himself.

"Depending on the point of view, you and I could have had a happy ending if our story had ended on a good memory between us. Like when you baked me cookies for my birthday." And he looked at her sadly. "Or whenever we would have tea—just the two of us."

"Don't," she sniffed and turned her head away. "Don't ruin it."

"I don't mean to ruin it. I'm just… trying to be realistic." He paused again to consider his next words. "What we just saw… it wasn't perfect. People still died."

She hugged her knees to her chest as she sat, still turned slightly away from him now. "That's right. Everyone who died in our timeline died in theirs, too."

Levi gave a rueful smile. "Except you. I was able to at least save you..."

At this, she turned her head back to face him squarely. "And was that the only thing you wanted? Even though everyone else still died, were you still... happy?"

"I was far happier than if I had lost you... Like how I was, in this reality."

He closed his eyes and let his head tilt back.

"Just a week ago, I was in a living hell. You were dead for four years and counting. Eren was about to destroy Liberio and get eaten by Marley."

"He did destroy Liberio anyway."

"But you came back. And now the shitty ending became a good one—if we call it quits right now."

"I don't think we should go off and kill ourselves while holding hands, if that's what you're getting at…."

"No. I'm just saying… everything comes down to our perspective. Life doesn't have happy endings like a story. It just keeps on going and going, up or down or however it goes…."

"What a philosopher you've become," she chuckled, starting to regain her good humor. "I guess I can't argue with that."

"Tch, that's right. Listen to your elders."

"That's right, old man!" she blurted out cheekily, then flashed him a grin.

He returned a deadpan look. "We'll see who's an old man the next time we're alone."

And she progressed instantly to full-on laughter, covering her giggles with her hand. He heaved a sigh, but he nevertheless waited patiently for her laughter to subside into another comment.

"It sounds like you did read Christa and the TItan in the last few years, then. 'Cause you told the photographer that my name was 'Angelika Klein.'"

Levi nodded. "It was Historia's favorite book, too, remember? I read a bit of it at some point when I would visit her..."

"At her farmhouse, huh?"

"Yeah." He paused. "But I never finished it."

She blinked. "Why not?"

"I wasn't in a hurry to get to the end. I didn't want to find out what happened. Just in case... something bad happened."

To this, she nodded slowly and shifted in her seat.

"Well, it is a harrowing tale, but it's like the 'other me' said: Christa and the Titan both live."

"Hm. They do, huh?"

Petra nodded. "They do."

He returned the nod and gave a tiny smile. "Then that's good enough for me."

Another long minute of silence hung between them, punctuated only by an intermittent fidget from Petra or a stolen glance at each other.

"You did quite well at talking about your feelings," Petra began again. "Your love confession... your proposal..."

"Makes sense. I bet you wanted me to say the kinds of things I said."

She felt her cheeks grow hot. "Huh? I mean, sure, maybe, but..."

"But—were you... controlling me? Into saying what you wanted to hear?"

"No! At least, not intentionally..." She swallowed uneasily and turned her head away, resting her chin on her forearms propped on top of her knees. "Did you not feel like yourself somehow? Were you really that different?" She took a pause. "'Cause the 'you' right here still said 'I love you' first."

He took another long moment of his own. "Well, I guess I had a lot of time to think about what I would have said to you. If I had had the chance." He looked upon her mournfully, feeling his fingertips starting to grip the tree bark a little more tightly under his hands.

"And then you did."

They gave each other bittersweet smiles.

Levi said quietly, "If I had never lost you, would I have ever learned not to take you for granted?"

She felt tears coming to her eyes as his words pierced her right in the heart. Just like that, she was swooning inside at yet another effortlessly romantic utterance from him. And she was far too stunned to respond with anything but a teary-eyed smile.

Driven on by her wordless reaction, he continued to ask his burning questions: "Apparently I technically already asked you this before, but... why do you love me?"

Struck dumb for another moment, Petra stuttered out, "Wh-What?"

He pressed on, "Do you feel obligated to be with me?"

To this, she could only gasp in shock.

"From Day One, you landed right into my arms, and we've been together ever since. But you don't owe me anything. You didn't even need to rejoin the Scouts. But you did. And now you're here, when you could be anywhere else—and anywhere else is probably safer than here."

"Levi. I chose to be here. With you. And I chose to uphold my duty. I'm still a Scout, because there's still more that must be done. Now that I'm here, I can't let things happen that I could help prevent."

"I let you die under my watch," he insisted, barely registering her words. "I failed to keep you safe. And I couldn't live with it and just let it be. I brought you back to life. But somehow, it's still not enough. Your parents still think you're dead anyway... and you, having nightmares every night..."

The guilt robbed him of further words for a few moments as he stared at her, blotting out a couple of tears on her sleeves.

"I wish I could do more. I wish you didn't have to be scared to close your eyes at night. And you're probably pregnant—with my baby... and this is really the best I can do?"

She let loose a huff of frustration. "Levi. Listen to yourself. You brought me back to life. You've already done far more than any human being ever could have. You're doing everything in your power to support me." She gave him a reassuring nod. "All you need to do now is learn to let go of what you can't control. Some things I just have to figure out how to deal with for myself. And that's not your fault. It just is what it is."

He closed his eyes again, letting his head droop. "Somehow, things in life never go the way we want." And he pursed his lips, as if half-wanting to suppress his next words: "So, I think the only way forward is to let go of our happy ending. Like you said: there are too many factors that are out of our control."

The darkness gathering in his eyes made her downcast.

"I know. You're right."

But the light in his eyes shifted as his gaze turned toward the future. "And if it comes down to saving yourself or following orders from HQ... I want you to save yourself. I know I can't order you to do so, but all I can do is ask."

"Ask me as what?" She peered deeply into his eyes, searching for hints of whatever he might not put into words. "Who are you to me?"

He fell silent for a moment, considering what to say, whether to say it, and how to find the courage to say it: "Your... boyfriend. Lover. Fiancé. Husband. Everything."

And he slowly pulled her in close by the hand and gave her a tortured kiss, holding in his own tears at the corners of his eyes. Before she could protest his words, he pulled away, gave her one last, pleading look, and shot his wires over to a neighboring tree to reenter the time and place where they resided: the Forest of Giant Trees inside Wall Maria. The Year 854. Paradis Island. And across the sea stood Marley—and the rest of the world—preparing to destroy them. Levi's lingering tears flew away and dried in the wind as he took himself away from the joy of the dream, and back to the torment of their reality.

The interrogation room hummed soundlessly, its many wooden surfaces and cheery, sunlit windows guiding them back to reality. Mikasa came around gradually, awakening from her daydream while still leaning with her hands behind her against a table. Armin sat blinking next to her, sitting in a chair at the same table.

"What… was that?" Armin mumbled in a distant voice.

"I just thought—there was more," Mikasa insisted, pushing off the table's edge to stand upright and cross her arms over her chest. "The expedition. To the sea…."

"Huh?" His eyes grew wide as he stared at her uneasy expression. "Were you—were both of us—dreaming the same dream?"

At this, her frown grew more pronounced. She stared down at her own hands, cupped together as if she had just been holding something in them. But what?

"I'm not sure what happened," she muttered to herself just as much as to him. "You, me, and Eren… and Captain Levi… and Petra."

"Huh," he said, leaning his elbows onto the table. "To be honest, though… I can't really remember anymore…."

"Felix! Felix!"

He came back around to find himself lying on his back on the wooden floor of the Military Archives, with his fellow posted soldier kneeling next to him, yanking on his boots to rouse him.

"Ugh… Boris. Stop."

The fringe of Boris' platinum blonde hair obscured his face as he leaned over and shook Felix vigorously by the shoulders.

"What the hell? Did you really just pass out on duty?"

Felix groaned, swatted Boris' hands away, and sat up slowly, steadying himself on his hands. "I have no idea. All I know is I'm on the floor." He blinked a couple of times. "And my face hurts."

"That's 'cause you landed on it. And then I rolled you over on your back."

He groaned again, more quietly this time. "Shit. You couldn't have caught me on the way down or something?"

"I kind of just watched it happen," Boris sniggered. "I honestly didn't think you of all people would just go down out of nowhere."

"Asshole."

As Felix got to his feet, begrudgingly accepting Boris' helping arm, Boris observed him carefully.

"I didn't think you were hungover," Boris said. "But… are you?"

"No."

"Then was that a seizure or something? Do you ever get those?"

"No! I swear to God, I'm fine."

And Boris frowned in displeasure to himself, feeling not at all convinced. In some moments of contemplation, he asked, "Did you get your hands on any of that fancy wine?"

Felix scowled right back at him. "That Marleyan stuff? No." He gave him a reproachful look. "Some of us have bigger things to worry about."

Boris scoffed. "Suit yourself, then." And he muttered to himself under his breath, "Every now and then, we get another uptight one…."

They had barely a few minutes' reprieve to stand on either side of the front door and act normal before someone knocked politely and let themselves in: a certain Survey Corps soldier whom everyone in the military recognized—although she was missing her signature red scarf….

"Good morning," she greeted them, her deadened gaze flitting briefly between them.

"Good morning." Felix tipped his head to her, surveying her carefully out of the top of his vision. "Mikasa Ackerman, right?"

"Yes. And you are?"

"Felix Wagner."

"Boris Feulner."

"Nice to meet you." Her words were perfectly polite, her shadow of a smile perfectly devoid of anything but superficial emotion.

Both men grunted and gave single nods.

"Does this have to do with Captain Levi's recent visit here?" Boris asked.

"When was this?"

The MPs fell silent, realizing they should not divulge anything further.

"I'm guessing it would have been… five days ago or so?" she offered.

The continued silence said all.

"Anyway," she sighed, "I have a document granting me official access to a couple of files."

And she presented a simple scroll of paper secured with a few rounds of string.

I, Survey Corps Commander Hange Zoe, with the joint permission of Premier Dhalis Zachary and Military Police Commander Nile Dawk, hereby authorize Survey Corps soldier Mikasa Ackerman to access, add to, remove, destroy, or otherwise alter any files pertaining to the soldiers named "Angelika Klein" and "Petra Ral" as she deems necessary, at any time now or in the future. This is in addition to the same permissions given to Survey Corps Captain Levi.

"Commander Dawk notified us that these files are a bit of a hot potato for the foreseeable future," Boris noted as he finished glancing over the whole document a final time. "We weren't given the details, though. Just that wherever we store them, whatever's in them could cause… problems."

Felix, already leaning in over Boris's shoulder, reached down and took the paper from him. "But Mikasa. Even though you have explicit permission to destroy them," he added, "I'd suggest minimizing the destruction. These are priceless records of our military history—however inconvenient it may be to have to guard them."

Mikasa was summarily presented with two folders taken from the Highly Classified archives: a thick file on "Ral, Petra" and a nearly empty folder on "Klein, Angelika". Petra's most recent entry was pertaining to the 57th Expedition: Mikasa noticed that all mention of Petra's death was redacted with thick, black lines through the writing. She opened the lighter folder for Angelika and found a copy of a newly-taken photo of Petra, along with only one dummy sheet of background info on the alias person: a Survey Corps soldier who had been on inactive duty for four years due to undisclosed personal reasons.

Even if I redact the name 'Angelika Klein' from this document, too, Mikasa thought to herself, that would arouse suspicion that this file might not have originally been pertaining to Petra. I need to rewrite this entirely with Petra's name on it.

Mikasa turned to the MPs and asked, "May I have a blank sheet of paper and an ink pen?"

And in a couple of short minutes, she had recopied the document with the name "Ral, Petra", inserted it in the front of Petra's original folder, and affixed Petra's photo to the inside of that folder.

As for the redacted lines at the end, they'll just have to stay the way they are. It won't look convincing for a newly written page to replace a paper and ink that have had four years to age.

She pursed her lips and handed the folder back to Felix to be returned to the hidden shelf. Lastly, she pulled a metal waste bin to a window, opened the window a couple of inches for ventilation, shoved the now-empty folder of "Klein, Angelika" into the bin, and lit a match to incinerate the evidence. All three soldiers stood quietly, watching the flames devour the stiff paper into a small, blackened streak of ash.

Let whoever goes looking for it use their imaginations, Mikasa concluded. The truth is that impossible to come up with on their own. And thankfully, the only people from the time of the 57th Expedition who are still alive were debriefed about Petra and sworn to secrecy….

Her feet stumbled to a halt in the middle of the hallway, and she found herself staring down at her boots shining in the midmorning light.

Except for Eren.

Her gaze wandered back upward and out the window to her side as she continued to think, watching a flock of pigeons take flight towards the sky.

He's still in his jail cell. Not far from here. And if they would just let us in to see him… then maybe we'd have some answers.

Astrid awoke suddenly, her eyes springing open to take in the midmorning sunshine from the window next to the bed. She gasped and attempted to sit up but was hindered by her enormous pregnant belly. Her husband sitting on the edge of the bed reached out at once with his long arms to steady her by her shoulders.

"Astrid!" His voice came out strained. "What happened?"

Astrid sighed. "Oh… Conrad. It was just… a dream I had…."

She smiled furtively to herself and rubbed her belly absentmindedly.

"Huh. Petra visiting me… she was the one pregnant instead of me…. That had to have been a dream. She died along with Eld…."

Conrad gave her hand an empathetic squeeze.

"They belong in the past. But we're here now," he assured her.

"You're right," she murmured, gazing blearily up into his golden brown eyes. "It was all so long ago already…. From another lifetime, almost."

She slowly sat up in bed the rest of the way, wrinkling her brow with dawning confusion.

"How did I end up in bed? I was just sitting in the dining room, and then…."

"You fainted at the table during breakfast. Maybe only a minute or so ago."

She gasped again. "I did?"

"Damn good thing you were already sitting down when it happened. I brought you over to the bed."

"You?" she scoffed. "With your gimpy legs?"

He frowned as he glared wanly at her. "That's right. I did what I had to do."

She felt a pang of guilt at the way he stiffened in discomfort when he shifted in his seat.

"I see… thank you."

And he gave a tiny smile at her and took her hands in his.

"I'm just glad you're okay." He could not help but give her hands another squeeze. "For a bit there, I was wondering whether you might already be in labor or something…."

She shook her head. "Eight months is almost due, but not quite."

"Right." He gave a sober nod to himself.

"I don't think you need to call the doctor," she added matter-of-factly. "I'm fine."

He pursed his lips and eyed her cautiously anyway.

"Just rest," he told her. "I'll bring you your breakfast in bed."

"But your legs…."

He waved his hand. "I'll be fine. I can walk, can't I?"

"Okay," she sighed and closed her eyes.

He helped her scoot her back to the headboard and inserted a pillow behind her for cushioning, then went back to the dining room. Left alone for a minute to wait, Astrid rested her hands on either side of her belly again and felt the baby kick languidly against her palms.

Eld… Petra… thank you. Thanks to people like you, people like me can have ordinary happiness. I only wish that you all could have had this, too.

Shrouded invisible in the cloak of the Paths, Eld looked on intently from the foot of the bed, frowning at this unusual turn of events for his former girlfriend. But he suddenly felt the presence of someone nearby, and he noticed Farlan and Isabel standing off in a hidden corner of the room behind Astrid's husband, now standing with a wooden breakfast tray in his hands.

"Farlan? Isabel? How the hell did you know my girlfriend?"

Isabel looked on silently.

"We didn't," Farlan explained. "We're not here for her."

And Eld looked back at Astrid, then at her husband, and he realized now that they had come for him.

"Who… is he?"

Isabel shrugged. "Just someone Farlan used to know, a long, long time ago…."

And Farlan gave a wistful smile as his mind wandered in reminiscence.

Franca the MP jerked her head up with a gasp, feeling her sudden daydream (or was it a real dream?) quickly growing hazy and confusingly vague in her recollection. It was a progressing morning with continued sunny weather as spring soldiered on towards the edge of summer. The dappled sunlight filtered pleasantly onto her upturned face as she gazed upward into the canopy of apple blossoms overhead while she cradled her bolt-action rifle in her arms.

Shit, she thought to herself. I fell asleep on lookout duty. I've never done that before. This never happens.

A smirk flitted across her lips as another thought formed: On the other hand, it's hard to believe that this never happened to Bruno, either. With all the wine he drinks….

And to help keep herself from falling asleep again, she got to her feet to stand for a while, her rifle at the ready in her hands. She gazed off towards the distant boundaries of the property, tracing over the outlines of the buildings spread apart in multiple directions: the orphanage, the barn, the farmhouse….

Why am I thinking about him right now anyway?

Chapter 30: Onlookers

Summary:

Levi and Petra work to make sense of their feelings while going through the day's tasks, and wherever they go, reality follows.

Notes:

I'm so sorry it took so long to publish another chapter. Long story short: I got busy, I went back to school almost full-time while continuing to work part-time, and so I've been even busier. I'm hoping that it won't take quite this long for the next chapter to be ready, so please be patient. Hey, at least we got another episode of the AOT anime to tide us over, whatever your feelings about the canon manga ending may be. Thank you for sticking around through my irregular publishing schedule! I promise that more good Rivetra entertainment is up ahead.

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Call of Silence (Attack on Titan Piano)" – Aleta & Samuel Kim

DAY 3 CONTINUED

Bruno and Henrietta both gasped as they snapped out of their own daydreams, still sitting on the same massive tree branch together. The golden sunlight from the fair-weather day dappled the bark with alternating splashes of light among the shadows cast by the trees. Their eyes met again, growing wider the longer they stared at each other.

"What the hell was that?" Bruno mumbled.

Henrietta shrugged, then turned inward and frowned, tapping her pointer finger pensively to her lips. "What… happened?"

After a prolonged pause, Bruno urgently pulled out his sketchbook from his rucksack and started to sketch what he had seen in his mind's eye before the memories faded completely. Henrietta peeked over his shoulder as he finished, and they both stared down at three separate sketches he had spread out over the page: Petra with a pregnant belly, Levi with his face shrouded in the shadow of a hooded cloak, and a very young girl with shoulder-length, black hair, not much older than a toddler. And underneath each sketch, he had hastily written their names: Petra. Levi. Nifa.

"Nifa?" Henrietta asked, pointing to the little girl. "How would you know what she looks like? We only just found out she even existed!"

He pursed his lips, rotating his pencil in between his fingers. "She has his hair and her eyes. I guess I figured… this is what that meant."

And she could not help but sigh. "I bet she is a cutie. I wonder if we'll ever get to meet her…."

He scoffed. "Way out here, while we're all on duty? Not a chance."

Levi landed on an uninhabited tree branch some distance away from his and Petra's tree. And he respooled his wire hooks and took a seat against the trunk of the tree, fully intending to stay a while and stew in the rapidly shifting inner turmoil of his thoughts and emotions. But not long after, something inside him told him to get out of his head by moving his body. And that meant going for a run. His chest deflated as he sighed to himself, and he used his ODM wires again to lower himself back down to the ground.

But ironically, as he ran, his mind started to wander anyway–back into thinking about the dream. As he continued running without conscious effort, his thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper into bitterly pessimistic places.

Maybe the best, most realistic thing I can say about that giant detour of a dream is… at least now, we can be a little more accepting of the likelihood of one or both of us dying soon.

He found himself slowing to a stop as his thoughts overtook his body, paralyzing him. And he turned his head upward to gaze past the canopy of giant trees to the fair blue sky beyond.

After all, there's nothing left we have any right to wish for. We already had it all. Even if it was just some other versions of us–another timeline, another lifetime…. Can I content myself with that? Just knowing that in some other life, she and I and our baby were happy—and life was good?

Sensing Petra's presence next to him, he glanced at her out of the corner of her eye as she stood watching him.

"Hello again, Captain," she said quietly. She managed only the briefest of glances at his face before dropping her gaze to her feet, as if in shame.

He gave a grunt as he briefly nodded at her.

"You're not the only one who missed out on their morning jog," she continued, idly scuffing the dirt underfoot with the toe of her boot.

"That's true. I just didn't want to force you. Since I made you so upset…." He eyed her carefully to gauge her mood. And he cursed himself internally again that he had seemingly driven her short-lived happiness away for good.

"Well, I still am. But exercise is a great form of stress relief. Right?" She looked back up at him and gave a tiny, sad smile.

He sighed quietly in admission and gave one more nod.

They continued the run, this time together in tandem. Their stride lengths were nearly identical in length, and she kept up with him easily—something she had never quite been able to achieve before, back when she had her original body. But alas, it was not nearly as easy to be on the same page in other ways.

"I'm not so much upset with you ruining the happy ending," she continued, "but more because… well, because you were right."

And Levi felt a pang of guilt on top of what already weighed on his conscience. He would give anything to be wrong. But at the very least, they both needed to hang on to hope, because without hope, there was nothing left to live for.

But sooner or later, something will happen–and I don't know what will happen first. Whether it happens in one of the cities and makes its way out here, whether it starts here in this Forest or at Wall Maria. Zeke will take action. The outside world will try to destroy us. Or even Eren, trying to destroy the outside world. So many things that can go wrong—no, that will go wrong….

"Captain…" Petra sighed, pulling his attention momentarily back out of his head and onto her. "We're supposed to just focus on living in the moment. With the both of us together. Remember?"

He shot her a smirk and looked ahead of them again, never breaking his stride.

"You're right."

Just a little longer, he thought to himself now. Let the days be long and boring… so we can be together like this, for just a little longer.

Kuchel and Kenny looked in on Levi and Petra for a while, seeing into their memories of their alternate lives. And Kuchel and Kenny mutually felt the mood between them grow sour.

Finally, she snapped at her brother, "You sick, twisted bastard!"

And she gave a wide, swinging slap to his cheek. He flinched upon impact and grabbed the side of his face with his hand, as if pretending to be in pain.

"It's bad enough that you tried to kill Levi. But then you beat up Petra, too? And then actually killed her?"

He held up his hands on either side of his face and wiggled his fingers at her. "Ooh, little sis is feisty now!" But now his eyes flashed in anger. "Where the hell was this instead of that dead-eyed whore under some toothless bastard's roof?"

"You shut the fuck up. You don't know anything about that."

He shrugged. "I know enough."

But she spoke resolutely, "No. You don't."

And he heaved a sigh and scratched the nape of his neck. "Ah, what the hell. I guess you're right: I don't."

After Levi and Petra's jog drew to a natural close in the clearing around the campfire, Levi summoned all the day shift Scouts by blowing into a conch shell, and he led the midday exercises he had newly instated earlier that morning. They started with knuckle pushups with elbows down, with the added weight of a partner lying on top of their backs; then planks with one leg held up in the air behind them; then a variety of mobility and stretching exercises in which the two women Petra and Henrietta were the only ones who nearly bested Captain Levi.

Fortunately, with the most vocal complainers being in the night shift (and therefore fast asleep), the time passed pleasantly free of drama—save for the ever-complicating presence of Zeke sitting with his back against a tree, watching the military training unfold with an infuriatingly neutral gaze through his eyeglass lenses. But although Levi would shoot Zeke intermittent glares in between calling out orders and doing reps of his own, the latter was unperturbed by more of the same constant scrutiny from the former. In fact, Zeke seemed to relish being the center of attention, despite being the only one not called to actively participate in anything. Before long, Petra was also sending reproachful glances at Levi, who in turn was not about to let up the staring at Zeke anytime soon. And Zeke eventually found himself having to stifle his chuckling by tilting his head down, which only served to rankle Levi all the more.

When it was finally over and Levi was wandering through the trees while stewing in his pent-up aggravation, Petra slid up beside him once again and cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Captain. Would you like to come with me to take our horses for walks beyond the trees? Almost everyone else has been doing it in the mornings, but... we've been preoccupied."

Grateful for the distraction, he gave a grunt of approval and walked quietly with her through the forest path. The sun was progressing steadily through the sky into early afternoon, casting slowly lengthening shadows to the east behind the trees. And although he alternated his gaze between watching ahead of them and glancing at his side at her, she resolutely kept her own gaze only at the ground directly in front of her feet as she walked.

"Do you always look down while walking these days?" he asked her.

She did not respond.

"You're relying on me to watch where we're going," he continued. "If you're not careful, you could…."

As his voice trailed off, her tiniest of frowns deepened into a little more of a scowl.

"Run into a tree?" she mumbled.

A frigid silence hung between them, even as they continued to walk. He pursed his lips.

"You know what I mean." He gave a pause as he waded through his uncertainty, then mustered up an added "Sorry."

She sighed quietly as she pressed onward with renewed determination, curling her fingers around the hem of her green cloak.

"I'm afraid. That if I look at every tree I pass by here—I might just find the one that I remember." The one I remember dying on.

Another, even longer silence stretched out the moments of quiet footsteps. And finally, he spoke again:

"Every tree I look at… looks like that tree to me."

He closed his eyes and shook his head to himself, then pulled out his trigger handles from their holsters.

"Why don't we just use our ODM gear the rest of the way? We can go slow. It'll be good for you—to practice moving differently."

She nodded slowly and took her own trigger handles into her hands. And she finally looked up again to smile bittersweetly at him.

Once Levi and Petra were out from the shadow of the trees, they stood soaking up the direct sunlight, unfiltered by the foliage.

Levi noted that they had been followed by Henrietta, who descended to the ground with a light hop and propped her hands on her hips. She squinted her eyes slightly in curiosity.

"Henrietta, since you're so great at keeping tabs on everyone," he began with a hint of annoyance, "are there any night duty horses that didn't get taken around yet? Petra and I can ride ours while taking another by the reins."

She glanced around at the horses closest to them. "I think the night shifters tend to forget about walking their horses 'cause they're in such a hurry to hit the sack."

"Tch," he grumbled under his breath. "I'm gonna kick the laziness out of 'em tonight."

Henrietta only sighed and pointed to each one she mentioned. "Yeah. I think that Pia and Rosanna could still use a trip, 'cause Ernest and Sandro had… other stuff going on." And she could not help but chuckle to herself at all the drama over Bruno's naughty drawings. "Well, Rosie has been getting pretty restless…."

Levi turned to Petra. "I'll take Rosanna. Petra, can you take Pia?"

"Of course."

Pia was a silvery white horse much like Angelika, which naturally made Petra think of her old horse again. Petra smiled to herself while petting Pia's glossy mane, noting their similarities in appearance as well as a vague difference in temperament. Angelika had been supremely docile and agreeable, whereas Pia seemed to have a streak of independence, judging by the latter's low whinnying and pitching of her neck from side to side at the touch of Petra's hand. But perhaps she was reading too deeply into it: perhaps it was just because Petra was not Pia's rider.

As she guided the white-haired Pia by the reins over to her brown horse Sasha, she caught sight of Nino some meters away returning to the treeline.

"Nino!" she called out; he turned his head at the sound of his name. "You're still awake?"

He jogged over to her and as he approached, she noticed that his hair was shining damp.

"I just took a bath. Now I'll go to sleep."

"Oh, good. Hygiene is important." She briefly turned to look over her shoulder at Levi riding Isabel, with Rosanna in tow by the reins. "Did you walk your horse for a bit before all that?"

"Yes, every day."

He straightened up a little more and continued walking, but Petra called out to stop him again.

"Nino, wait."

He slowed to a halt and his shoulders deflated with a tiny sigh before he turned around.

"I get the sense that you've been avoiding me," she continued.

He pursed his lips for a moment. "I guess you could say I... had a bad experience with redheads. Please don't take it personally."

She nodded. "I see... You know, you're the only one who named their horse after themselves. Why is that?"

And he shrugged. "When I think of it as having an externalized part of myself, I can talk to myself without it feeling too weird. I tell her all the things that I want to hear... the things that I wished other people would tell me... And it helps."

As they looked at each other, a quiet moment hung between them, open for either of them to speak up next.

"Petra. You know… a lot went down here in this Forest a few years ago." He paused again, as if to steel himself to say the rest of his thoughts. "Were you here? Back then?"

She stopped for a moment to recall her cover story: the events of the alternate reality. As far as any of her comrades here were concerned, that was the truth.

"No," she stated at last.

He gave an uncertain pause, but nevertheless said, "Good. 'Cause from what I heard… it was horrible."

She willed herself to hold a neutral expression. "Yes." Then she paused to scrutinize him with a tiny tilt of her head, trying to seem nonchalant. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing. Well… I technically wasn't here before, either—not when it happened. But afterward—half a year afterward—they sent a bunch of us in the Garrison to cremate any human remains. Before they let the civilians move back into their hometowns."

She felt a surge in suspicion rising inside her, heating up her chest and the blood in her face.

"I see," she murmured quietly. But then another thought grew and voiced itself with her own mouth.

"I can't think of a soldier back then who didn't have to recover the dead. It wears on everyone."

She gave a smile of reassurance now.

"Thank you for what you did. We all do what we have to do, when the time comes for it. Right?"

And she turned to recollect her horses to ride them in the afternoon sun. Nino imagined her bursting into flames again as the sunlight enveloped her from head to foot, illuminating her hair as if from within.

Now I don't know what to believe anymore.

But then they both saw Levi standing a short distance away with his horses, observing them—or perhaps simply waiting for her. Nino gave Levi a nod of acknowledgment and continued his way back through the trees, grimly pursing his lips.

Petra noted the impression of the trees standing tall as far into the forest as the eye could see—like prison bars hemming them all in, swallowing them whole the deeper they went. And to the other side lay an open expanse of grass and sky, ended only by the Wall: Humanity's prison, made from the same Titans they had once protected humans from.

The world is vast, she acknowledged to herself. And he and I… are just two tiny specks in it. Whatever happens to us—whether we live or die, are happy or miserable—the world will keep on going.

Levi turned to glance over his shoulder at her, as if he had somehow sensed her thinking about him.

But even so… I still want to believe that he and I matter. Even if only to each other.

Up in the trees again, Henrietta snapped her head to the side to catch the sight of Bruno approaching her with his ODM gear.

"What are you doing here, following me around?" she huffed.

Bruno gave a shrug and pressed his hands together. "Ernest told me to keep an eye on Nino. That's all."

"Ernest? Why?"

"I dunno. He's always running around, worrying about people from afar. Kinda like Sandro—but maybe without intending to gossip about it later, you know."

She groaned quietly to herself and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.

"Why are you guys such scaredy-cats to talk to your own comrade? Just sit him down and ask what's bothering him. And hear it from the horse's mouth already."

He sighed and tousled his hair with one hand. "Apparently, Ernest already did that, but Nino's not talking."

At this, she turned to gaze off in the distance where Petra and Levi were beyond the end of the river with their horses. "Well, it sounds like he did talk to Petra just now."

"Yeah. Whatever weird shit he's working through upstairs, it definitely sounds like it has to do with her."

Henrietta then thought about when Levi and Petra were walking along the path towards the outer edge of the forest, and the dialogue she had managed to pick up.

"And to be fair, she added slowly, "Petra… is not exactly an open book, either."

Bruno heaved an even louder sigh. "She and Captain Levi both leave things pretty vague, eh? Like the rest of us are filling in the blanks, 'cause they're not giving us much to work with."

And this time, it was Henrietta's turn to shrug.

"What can you do? With a little kid at home like that… I guess they have a lot to protect."

Levi forged ahead with his horses, riding Isabel and guiding Rosanna, while Petra finally followed with Sasha and Pia. The open grassland spread out before them: a welcome sight of relative freedom from the claustrophobic trees.

At last, once they were in the wide-open grassy clearing that extended in the three directions before them, he spoke:

"What was that about?"

She sighed and stroked Sasha's mane as the horse dipped her head to graze.

"I'm kind of surprised that you didn't try to eavesdrop."

"Tch," he grunted. "What do you take me for?"

And she grinned to herself. "Oh, I dunno. It would've been a juicy opportunity, that's all."

"What the hell does that mean? What did he say to you?" He narrowed his eyes. "What did you say to him?"

"Relax! He was just… asking if I was here before. 'Several years ago.' 'Cause he said he was here to clear away the dead soldiers' bodies before the civilians repopulated Wall Maria."

He tilted his head, his tone of voice rising even more; his horse Isabel pawed the grassy ground, feeling his agitation as well. "How the hell is that relaxing? And? What did you say?"

"I said no, of course. I was in Trost with my parents, sidelined while pregnant. Remember?"

He gave a long pause, the silence punctuated only by the subtle munching sounds of their horses grazing.

"It's possible, due to the nature of his 'cleanup' assignment, that… that he may have come across something that pointed towards you. Like your name sewn into a scrap of clothing. Or… a part of… something else."

She stared numbly at her horse, who reared her head and turned to gaze back at Petra through the corner of her eye. The unfathomable depths of those warm brown eyes seemed to pierce right through her: perceptive but kind.

Her voice came out more quietly now. "I guess you knew his service history when you chose him for this mission, huh?"

He hung his head a little. "Yeah. I did."

And she nodded slowly. "You said they picked us all up one by one. 'Cause we were thrown out of the back of a cart?"

"Yeah. So… maybe coming across each of you individually made you all more memorable to them somehow." He paused uncomfortably. "And not in a good way."

She sighed to herself and patted her horse's mane again; the comforting touch was as soothing to her as it was to her horse.

"So then… what do we say to him?"

He gave another pause before responding, "Nothing. As far as he knows, the matter is settled. Don't bring it up to him again. And hopefully he doesn't, either."

Their horses grazed quietly for a time, nosing around and moving a few feet at a time to choose the grassiest spots.

"So, Captain," Petra began anew, "how's Miss Rosie treating you?"

He eyed Rosanna off to one side, tethered to his hand with the reins still tied around her head and neck while she munched away happily.

"With the respect a woman should," he concluded. "Listens to orders, doesn't complain, plays well with others…."

She sighed in contentment and hugged Sasha's neck from behind, resting her cheek on her horse's mane. "This is why girls are the best."

"What does that mean?"

She opened her eyes to look over at him, still hugging her horse. "They just know how you're feeling. And they're great listeners."

He grunted in tacit agreement and stroked Isabel's mane; the latter nodded agreeably to his gentle touch.

"I think our horses missed us," she declared. "But… I also brought you here so we could talk."

Levi gave a single nod.

"So you could talk. Instead of ruminating endlessly inside your head."

"You really do know me too well," he grumbled.

And she gave a tiny chuckle before letting her face fall again.

"Do you feel as if you're not worthy of me?"

He closed his eyes to self-examine the thoughts that most often floated around in his mind over the past several days.

"Well... I know I'm not getting any younger. Or taller, if that ever mattered to you... And, to be brutally honest... I've been anticipating not surviving the next six months at all..."

"We're all getting older every day. I am, too, if you can believe it. It's not a crime to get older; it's not anything to be ashamed of..."

"Hmm," he mused aloud now. "I wonder, now that you bring it up: how perfect did Ymir make you? What if you don't actually age...?"

She smiled ruefully. "Heh. I'm sure I will; I'm sure I am... Anyway, enough on how perfect you think I look. I'm not perfect on the inside, Levi. I'm human, too, just like you."

He eyed her carefully, trying his best to see past his ever-growing infatuation with her appearance and imagine her growing old, with wrinkles and graying hair—as old as her mother, or even older. It was an almost impossible image, but one he wouldn't mind seeing one day. But forget about how old he would have to be to get to see her aging alongside him.

Petra visibly hesitated to speak again, but eventually said, "You remember when Eren transformed to pick up that teaspoon?"

"Yeah."

"All the rest of us were quick to judge his intentions. But you didn't. You sided with him; you empathized with him, and you trusted him, even though we couldn't."

He sighed. "The way you all reacted was understandable. We were all on edge."

"Still, though. It's still... something I regret." She gazed down at the pad of her thumb, where she had once bitten her own hand in commiseration with Eren.

But of course, having to think about Eren again turned Levi's mood bitter. "All that trouble—all that sacrifice—for a boy who would betray us in the end."

"No. It's not over yet. We haven't tried everything yet to get through to him."

"That's what Mikasa and Armin keep insisting. And I hope to God they're right. But it's in their hands now. All you and I can do right now is focus on Zeke."

She nibbled at her lip, begrudgingly acknowledging that he was right—always so infuriatingly focused on the bigger picture, no matter how it made him feel.

"But anyway," she continued. "Back to you—and us. Is there anything else you wanted to say?"

"I'm not good at talking about feelings..." He gazed down into his horse's deep brown mane to somehow minimize the embarrassment that was probably showing on his face.

She pressed on, "You're so good at figuring out everyone else's feelings, but you can't express your own? Even that's not true."

He glanced up to catch her tucking her hair behind her ear. The demure, delicate way she moved was more than enough to catch his eye.

"Yes, it's a struggle for you, but you still do it. Because you know that it matters." And she gave a shy smile. "I mean... you told me that you love me. Didn't you."

"Yes. I do."

She smiled a little more widely now and tilted her head to one side.

"That took courage to actually say. I had been a little worried that you wouldn't be able to say it, but you did." She was the one to look away this time, and indeed, her cheeks grew just a little bit rosier. "And you did it well."

They let another silence sit between them as they tended to their horses. At long last, he spoke again.

"I guess I realized that if I didn't say things right, in that moment, that the moment would be lost. So I found the courage somehow... so I wouldn't fuck it up between us, and end up with even more regrets."

"So, why do you still think that you're not worthy of being with me? When you've done everything and more that I could have ever hoped for? You're always looking out for me. You feed me extra at every meal. You gave me money out of your own pocket without expecting anything in return."

He heaved a sigh out his nostrils. "I guess when you put it that way, it's a lot harder for me to find any more reasons..."

She took another pause to rearrange Sasha's mane, parting it evenly down each side of her neck.

"I want you to know that it's my choice to be with you. And I want you to realize that I can make a sound, rational decision on who to be with. So, please respect my choice." She looked up at him again, the tiniest smile hanging on her lips. "And be proud that I chose you."

"Okay. I will." He gave a tiny smile of his own while looking down at his horse's mane out of embarrassment. "I am."

The two of them took a dip in the river again after a miraculously uneventful dinner (furtive, suspicious glances between Henrietta and Bruno notwithstanding), choosing to go straight to the rocky area they had ended up in the previous night. Well secluded from the prying eyes of their voyeuristic comrades, they allowed themselves to believe that they truly were alone. At any rate, they had as much privacy as they were going to get.

Levi looked over at Petra several meters away, watching her innocently cupping water in her hands and smoothing it over her face and hair; the water trickled down her front in shining rivulets around her nipples and through the valley of her cleavage. He felt his arousal surge, hard and lengthening under the water. He slammed his eyelids shut, trying to control his urge, but he could not deny it to himself:

I wanna fuck her so damn hard...

He felt her approaching him and, with his eyes still closed, he reached down to splash some water over his own face in one last attempt to jar himself out of his lustful thinking—to no avail.

"Captain? Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes slowly to gaze upon her openly. She was only about two meters away from him now, facing him. The water was too shallow to cover her breasts at all, and his vision went broad to take all of her in... And in that moment, he decided that since he they were already naked anyway, he did not intend to miss this opportunity.

"Don't call me that," he muttered, and he moved towards her. She tilted her head down, seeming to hide the start of a blush with a hand brushing her hair behind her ear. His outstretched hand found its way around her arm and pulled her in. Their faces touching now, a kiss blossomed naturally from their proximity.

He vaguely wondered where these urges to hold her or touch her came from; he was not like this before—he did not think that he had an ounce of inclination towards physically romantic gestures, whether publicly or privately with anyone. But he was starting to consciously understand it as a deep desire to remind himself that she was still alive and real. All the things he once could only dare to fantasize about in his most wretched moments of regret were now miraculously his: here she was, and she was his.

"Aren't I a good girlfriend?" Petra teased him between kisses. "Always here, always willing…."

"Yeah," he mumbled, pulling her in for a deep, sucking kiss behind her ear while she tittered in halfhearted protest. "And you're my girlfriend."

She sighed in approval as his hands caressed down into the water and lingered around her hips. She could feel his hardness pressed against her leg under the water, and her anticipation built more and more with every kiss and touch.

I really hope no one's watching us, though, she thought hazily to herself, absentmindedly surrendering to his sensual indulging. I'm not technically here to be the Captain's squeeze—even if some people think so….

Back in the Paths some time ago, Petra was reading a book when she felt a warm glow in her chest: Levi thinking about her yet again. But as if on cue, she heard Nifa's piercing call before she could even stand up.

"Captain Levi's shirtless and he's thinking about meeee!"

"What?" Petra spluttered. She slammed her book shut between her hands and teleported to Nifa's side in an instant.

Nifa blinked when Petra appeared right next to her in a puff of black smoke. But with her audience here, she then continued in an urgent half-whisper, "He was like, 'Everyone keeps dying on me, blah blah blah, Nifa got her head blown off, how dare she...'"

Petra frowned. "Hey, that's kind of rude to put it that way..."

Surely enough, there was Levi sitting on a crate in a horse barn, very much shirtless and getting a gash on his deltoid sewn up by Sasha.

This is kind of weird, having to do something like this, Sasha thought to herself as she stitched his skin back together. I don't want anything weird between me and the Captain...

And she gulped nervously to herself while trying not to be too obvious about it. Levi gave her a perplexed glare out of the corner of his eye, then deflated with a sigh out of his nostrils.

To make matters even weirder, Mikasa walked in.

"Change of guard," she told Levi. There was an interminably long, awkward moment of mutual staring between them.

Nifa tittered and shoved Petra in the shoulder. "Okay, now that is weird."

And Petra could not stop her cheeks from flushing at the sight of Levi shirtless, nor of other young women witnessing the sight.

"Mikasa, huh…" Petra mumbled, trying to redirect the conversation.

As if sensing Petra's embarrassment, Nifa grinned at her. "Anyway... whatcha reading there?"

"Oh, this."

Petra noticed the book still tucked under her arm and pulled it out.

"It's that book of Titan fairy tales—you know, Christa and the Titan. I know everyone our age has probably read it by now, but..."

Nifa grinned at her. "Aww, you're still into fairy tales? How sweet."

"Hey, they're educational, too," she pouted. "Every time I reread it, I figure out another layer of meaning. Here, you'll see soon enough!"

They took a seat on the grass together, sitting cross-legged next to each other, and they opened the book to balance on each of their thighs.

Petra continued, "I always wondered about the author, though, because they're quite accurate about the nature of Titans. But this book was published way before Wall Maria fell. Whoever wrote it knew about the Titans... did they ever venture beyond the Walls? Were they in the Survey Corps, too?"

"Look inside the front cover for the author," Nifa said. "Hmm... Is this a woman's name? Angelika Klein? Wait... you named your horse after her?"

Petra giggled.

"Guilty as charged. I really liked this book growing up, okay?"

"Heh, I guess it suits her. She is all white like an angel..."

Petra gasped as she began to turn the page. "Oh, look, there's an author biography..."

"Note on previous editions: Soon after this book was published, Klein married into the Ackerman Clan, a family line that was once sworn to protect the King of the Walls. Unfortunately, her marriage shortly preceded a purge of the main family line: the head of the Clan was executed, and the remaining members went into hiding. Therefore, this book became the first and last publication from this author—at least, by her original name."

"Ackerman, huh?" Petra murmured. "Like Mikasa..."

"What a depressing ending for Ms. Angelika. And the Ackermans..."

Completely uninvited, Oruo suddenly walked up right behind the two women, standing haughtily with his arms crossed as he stared them down.

"Look at you two," Oruo sneered. "You're like two little girls giggling over fairy tales. I thought you were more grown up than that, Petra."

Petra rotated in place to pull the book away from him. "Can it, Oruo. Women are allowed to be girls when they want to be."

"I agree!" Nifa added. "If you think that having fun is beneath you, then you're the one missing out..."

Gunther appeared right next to Oruo and gave him a smack on his shoulder blade.

"Let them have their girl talk, Oruo. There's nothing wrong with reminiscing…."

Petra was still laughing quietly to herself when she realized that Levi was staring testily at her. She cleared her throat and slicked her hair back in an attempt to smooth things over.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about something with Nifa."

Levi reached out for her and pulled her in close again.

"Stop thinking about other people when we're together."

"Okay, I'm sorry."

And he held her face in his hand and pulled her in for another kiss.

"Did you do anything like this with Nifa?" he asked her teasingly as his hand squeezed around her ass.

She moaned quietly into his neck. "Not quite…." She felt his erection pressing into her vulva between her legs, and she sighed and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Then she can wait till later," he muttered gruffly.

"Yeah," she murmured, feeling her breath quickening. She tasted the desperation on his lips, felt the desperation in his kiss, and ran her finger down along the taut sinew on the side of this throat.

Finally driven to the peak of longing from her touch, he picked her up in his arms by the undersides of her thighs and carried her the few meters out of the water, depositing her underneath him on the grassy riverbank. They were in their usual spot, shielded by an outcropping of rocks to their left and right.

"I bet you're even better in bed when you're jealous," she whispered to him.

"I'm not sharing you with dead people."

"Mm, I never said you should…. Always remember I chose you over all of them…."

And he growled into the depths of her hair, "You're damn right you did."

Levi used his left hand to slide down to touch her between her legs, eliciting a fresh squeal from her lips. She gasped quietly at this different sensation of his nondominant hand, as he trained himself to adapt to this kind of movement again. He had always been a fast learner with his strong coordination skills…. She whispered a moan into his ear (making sure it was his left ear) and lifted her hips up into his measured caressing to encourage him. She had definitively figured out that he liked hearing her in his left ear the most, and she was not one to let an opportunity to arouse him go to waste. She had him by the balls now, both literally and figuratively. He kissed her gently on the side of her neck, first just once, then twice, then three times, each time in a slightly different spot.

Finally, when she could no longer stand it, she muttered breathily, "Just put it in already."

He started moving his body into her, pressing her more securely onto her back with both her legs spread around his hips and with his full, hard length pressed against her moist pinkness. She moaned quietly with anticipation as he slicked up against her, pressing her legs apart into the grass with his hands and entering her firmly and urgently.

She closed her eyes and moaned quietly at the sensation of him inside her again at last. He kissed her on the cheek, then more deeply on the mouth. He was inside her inner walls again: hot, tight, and velvety smooth, with her ridges and raspy parts for added intrigue through her textures.

"You are so—fucking—sexy," he breathed in her ear before kissing her again. She moaned sensually into his mouth and lifted her hips up into him, driving him even more deeply into her. He pressed his hips forward to push himself as far in as he could go, flattening the grass underneath her body; she whimpered a little and squeezed her eyes shut at his newfound assertiveness.

Petra marveled internally at his desperation and prowess in the moment, and in between quiet gasps and moans, she mused to him, "Oh, Captain. You really are stressed."

"God, yes," he groaned in her ear. He clutched around her shoulders with his hands in a brief pause from thrusting.

"Are we gonna have to do this every night—to get you to loosen up?"

"Of course. Captain's orders."

He pulled himself ever more deeply into her, and she squeaked as she tilted her head and arched her back, surrendering to his power over her.

For a couple more minutes, they were blissfully melted into one another, quietly pleasuring each other until their mutual orgasms into each other. When he was done coming, he lay gasping on top of her, caressing her head in his hands while gazing hazily at the grass above them. She whined and pulled one of his hands down between her legs again to get her the rest of the way, and he touched her some more with his fingers while thrusting some more with his hips. And she turned her head fully to one side as she came with a shuddering gasp, but at that moment, he vaguely caught a glimpse of something moving on the top of the rock that stood between them and the treeline.

"Huh?" she mumbled, opening her eyes to stare at him. "Why are you—frozen like that?" she whispered. Then she followed the direction of his gaze and felt her own body go still, suddenly wary at being watched.

In the dark, it was hard to make out its color, but its sleek, furry form was unmistakably a wolf, complete with glowing golden eyes. Levi felt himself rapidly losing his hardness, and he pulled out of her and slowly extended his hand towards his hunting knife on the grass next to his clothing.

But just as quickly as they had noticed the wolf, it was already slinking away into the dark, its figure shrinking as it turned and departed. When the creature was finally out of sight, they both breathed sighs of relief and eyed each other with a cautiously celebratory glance. But she was deeply unnerved by having been watched in such an intimate encounter with another person. And it made her not want it to happen to them again.

As if reading her mind, Levi murmured to her, "We should lay off the sex for now. Now that we know those things are around."

She sighed and pulled her legs together as she rolled onto one side in a fetal position.

"Yeah. It's creepy being watched…. Even worse that they're not human."

"You think that makes it worse?"

"If they're not like us, then it's harder to know what they're thinking, you know?"

"I'd say it's pretty clear what they're thinking," he muttered as he sat up. "We're their food. Their prey."

"Not their rivals? Or at least, their equals?" she countered. "Even just now, when we were at our most vulnerable and inattentive… they didn't dare attack us."

But he shook his head and lay his forehead in the palm of one hand.

"Not yet."

Chapter 31: Confessions

Summary:

Levi and Petra have a nightcap of lavender tea while making a renewed attempt to extract information from Zeke.

Notes:

I'm on Spring Break from classes right now, so thankfully I had a bit more time this weekend to write. This chapter is a bit shorter than my usual 5,000 to 10,000 words, but it reached a natural thematic close to the day before that, so I decided to end it where I did. Please enjoy!

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Vogel Im Kafig" – Aleta & Samuel Kim (Attack on Titan: Piano Collection)

DAY 3 CONTINUED

Levi and Petra dried themselves off and got dressed as quickly as possible behind the cover of the rocks by the river. They slung their rucksacks over their shoulders and shared grim looks at each other, the image of the wolf still sending a chill of unease through them. Levi went first around the rock, pulling Petra by the hand back toward the treeline. And the intimate fun was over just like that; they could not afford to let their guard down again.

They walked wordlessly down the path through the trees, dimly lit by lanterns overhead. The Scouts on night shift watched them going by beneath them; some held rifles in their hands, others laid in hammocks reading books, and still others sat and dozed off while their comrades shook them awake by the shoulders.

After a while, Levi spoke in a low voice, leaning his head in closer to her ear.

"Petra."

"Hm?"

He gave a pause, still mulling his thoughts over for one more moment before continuing.

"I had figured that the Founder Ymir had to be the one creating all these different timelines. But so far, it's been… you."

She pursed her lips. "You think so?" Her voice also came out low and distant. "I don't know how I'm doing it, though. I just wish for something to have gone differently, and it happens."

"Hm," he grunted. "So you can't control it."

"But it's all like a dream—a hallucination," she explained. "It plays out like a story in my head, happening to another person who looks like me."

He glanced upward one more time, just to ensure that no other Scouts were close enough to be within earshot.

"Hange's theory seems right: you hold the power of the Founding Titan—at least, some of it. Plus the power of the Ackermans."

She stared at him for a long moment, still walking forward. Her fingers instinctively clutched around the shoulder straps of her rucksack a little more tightly.

"Even if Eren is the one who can actually transform into the Founding Titan form, you seem to be able to do other things that the Founder Ymir can do. Things that not even Mikasa and I can do."

Petra heaved a sigh and turned her gaze forward again, slicking back her damp hair with her hands.

"I don't know. It's a lot to consider."

She could not help but frown at the added level of complexity to her situation. She knew that high ability meant high expectations. And to be fair, the same was true of him. Every time the military gave him a task that nobody else could hope to do—like subduing an enemy Titan Shifter—he accepted the responsibility without complaining. Because he knew that only he could do it. And he did what he set out to do—almost always. Killing the Beast Titan was the only exception, the one that dogged him every day and haunted him every night.

"Let's just—get back to the fire and dry off," she said quietly. "It's been a long day, you know?"

"And still a long night," he added. "If you're able to find what we're looking for."

She nodded solemnly to herself. Even though she felt very untested, the alternate reality she had inadvertently taken them through spoke for itself: even in a world of humans that turned into Titans, this was no ordinary power she brought to the table. And it was her duty to push herself to her limits and fully master herself.

"Yes, Captain. I'll do my best."

He gave a single nod and stopped, reaching out for her hand. They gazed directly into each other's eyes meaningfully.

"You can do it," he asserted. "Maybe you can remember things now that you weren't able to before."

"Like how you did, right? With that day in the rain?" she asked. She gave his hand a squeeze and she swore she could just make out his eyes quiver in renewed realization.

"That's right." And he gave a pause to gaze even more intensely at her. "I've given you the power of the Ackermans. Now we need you to learn how to use it—and control it. In the ways that only you can."

There was nothing else she could do but nod listlessly and glance away, shying away under the pressure of his conviction.

"I'll do it, then. I don't know how, but… I'll do it."

At the fireside, long after dinnertime and change of shift, Zeke was languidly reclining with crossed ankles on four wooden crates stacked to form a makeshift couch. A burning joint of chamomile tea was wedged between his thumb and two fingers, the tip a glowing orange ember that lengthened as it traveled up the rolled paper with every hit of nerve-soothing smoke that Zeke inhaled. The corners of Levi's mouth curled in displeasure at the sight, causing the exact opposite effect of increased agitation in him, but of course it made no difference. As Levi and Petra approached, Zeke turned his head in their direction, staring openly first at Levi for a brief moment, then at Petra for a much longer moment.

"Wanna drink tea?" Levi asked her, pointedly ignoring Zeke.

She nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

He had half a mind to get her to help with preparing the tea, but then he recalled their previous conversation—and her insistence that talking to Zeke would help them to extract more information out of him. So he proceeded to carry the teakettle over to the water jug and he told her, "I got it; you can sit. And talk."

They gave each other silent looks, and she helped herself to a seat on an open crate next to Lauro, who cleared his throat and stood up to leave.

"Hey, you can stay," she called out to him halfheartedly.

But he just waved a hand at her, called out, "It's fine," and ascended into a nearby tree to survey the conversation from above.

Petra heaved a sigh and clasped her hands together in her lap. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then she flung her eyelids open and snapped her head towards Zeke. Surely enough, he was still staring at her through the flickering flames reflecting off his glasses. Levi begrudgingly held his tongue and took a seat a few paces away from her, grumpily crossing his arms. He glanced over in alternating motions towards the fire to monitor the boiling water on one side, and towards Petra and Zeke on the other side.

"Zeke," she began in a businesslike tone.

Zeke chuckled. "Well, isn't this interesting. Special permission granted, just to talk to me?"

"Why do you always stare at me like that, Zeke?" Her voice came out harsh and expectant.

Zeke shrugged. "Because you're... different. Clearly mature beyond your years. Preternaturally so..." And he took another hit of his joint to fill the silence.

"Are you attracted to me?"

The words roared in Levi's ears and he stopped mid-motion to glance at them out of the corners of his eyes.

That fucker had better say no.

"How would you like me to answer that?" Zeke chuckled more heartily now. "What would a 'no' mean?" He rested both feet back on the ground and leaned in towards Petra with an arresting shift towards seriousness. "Or... a 'yes'?"

That fucker.

"She's taken," Levi snapped, unable to restrain himself.

Petra glared a bit reproachfully at Levi for his outburst, then made an oddly big show of tucking her hair behind her ear. Levi blinked and did a double-take, and surely enough, there was a fairly fresh, dark reddish-purple hickey clearly visible when she folded down her earlobe. The blood in his head surged through his own ears in a mixture of pride and mortification.

Shit. She actually remembered where I planted that on her?

Zeke cackled openly at the sight, crossing his arms and leaning back on his crates.

"Looks to me like the Captain has a thing for branding his property!" he crowed.

God dammit, this is sickening. Just cut to the chase, Petra.

Thankfully, Petra crossed her own arms and changed the subject promptly.

"You said to Captain Levi that you 'brought hope to this island'. Even if you claim to have had to kill us to do it."

Zeke waved his hand in the air, still holding the joint. "Unfortunately, this is war, Petra. And in war, nobody gets to keep their hands clean."

He took another quick hit and continued, "So my question for you is: will you be like your precious Captain, deluding yourself into an insufferable sense of self-righteousness? Or are you able to recognize the shades of gray in your situation, and do what must be done?"

She sat up resolutely.

"Even setting aside your own justifications of who 'needed' to die, I think there are humane and inhumane ways to kill. And when you kill people in inhumane ways, that makes you a monster."

Zeke scoffed at her now. "I think that Levi's presumptions are rubbing off on you. You both seem to think you know what's in my head."

"Not necessarily. And I don't need to hear your thoughts to know your true intentions."

He tiled his head back; the firelight shimmered on the lenses of his glasses.

"Oh really. Well, in that case... what are my true intentions?"

"Just like what Captain Levi said. You're a sociopath: you lack human compassion. And that means your entire spiel about 'saving Eldia' is full of shit."

Zeke burst out laughing.

"Such uncouth words for that lovely voice. Captain Levi's influence erodes a lady's class." His own voice came out in a teasing lilt.

She sighed again.

"You can give up on trying to win me over. 'Cause it's not working, and it never will."

Levi took the tense pause in the conversation to matter-of-factly thrust a mug full of piping hot tea in front of her; she paused for a moment to accept it from him with a smile. Forgetting all about Zeke for a brief moment, she swilled around the dark contents in its bottom, watching its fragrant lavender essence billowing upward to diffuse throughout the hot water.

"Give it a minute to brew," he reminded her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Levi gave them one last wary look before stalking away to set down his own mug of tea while it brewed. He pulled himself up to the lowest-hanging tree branches to situate himself in the middle of the cluster of night duty Scouts overseeing the clearing.

"Sandro."

"Yes, sir!"

"And Nino."

"Yes, sir."

"Both of you guard Zeke's tent overnight. Sandro at the front entrance, Nino patrolling around it. And Ernest."

"Yes, sir!"

"Stay up here in the trees and watch the tent from above."

Levi lowered himself back to the ground and gathered up his and Petra's sleeping mats, laying them back down across the fire from Zeke's tent—a stone's throw from the edge of the clearing.

I change my mind. It's about time we had some privacy from that asshole before he overhears anything else.

With Levi having excused himself, Petra now found herself face-to-face and alone with Zeke—although now Levi, Lauro, Alessandro, Ernest, and Nino were all within earshot to witness.

"Why do you think that human lives are worthless?" she asked him. "In the end, you still seem to have a fondness for those two kids Falco and Gabi. And you still rely on others. Like the other Marleyan Warriors. What's stopping you from slaughtering them all, too? What makes them worth any more to you than we do?"

He blithely responded, "Because they all work with me to achieve my goals. Our goals." He gave a scoff to himself. "Well, Falco and Gabi used to be working with me—when we all worked for Marley. I've mentored them for years, you know, as War Chief of the Warrior Unit. But now... I have no choice but to carry on without them. As far as our plan goes."

"And what are those goals? Or plans?"

Without skipping a beat, he said, "To work with Eren. To save Eldia. The Eldians on Paradis, as well as those spread throughout the rest of the world."

She shook her head. "You say one thing and do another. You say you want to save us all, but you've been killing us instead. You and your comrades—whether they're Eldian or not."

She paused for a moment to consider something else.

"Then again… we've only seen you slaughter people here on Paradis. Is it just Paradisians that you think deserve to die? Because we're the 'island devils' who ruined it for the Eldians everywhere else?"

He sat himself up a little straighter in his recliner of crates, causing the wood beneath him to creak. And he leaned his head in towards her, taking her aback in his sudden change in demeanor towards opaque seriousness.

"Let me ask you, Miss Petra," he began. "Do you like being a Subject of Ymir?"

She gave another long pause as the insults she had heard secondhand and read about in Armin's reports cascaded through her head afresh. And she leaned in a little closer to him as well, scrutinizing him carefully.

"We don't think anything of being a 'Subject of Ymir.' On this island, everyone is one. Except for the noble families—who have been deposed anyway."

She took a careful sip of her tea when she realized that she had yet to taste it: the gentle taste and scent of lavender was calming to her senses. It helped her to refocus her thoughts. Put pressure on Zeke. Make him reveal his innermost thoughts.

"But what about you?" she asked. "Are you ashamed to be one?"

Zeke's eyebrows furrowed in displeasure at her turning his question on him.

"Look at us. Every one of us here." He moved his head slightly to take in their surroundings—and the Scouts up above them, listening in. "In our very beings, there lies a Titan. Waiting to come out. And sooner or later, no matter where you go or what you do... the truth will out."

At this, she sighed quietly and took another sip, closing her eyes to recall something from a distant memory: "Every one of us is a Titan inside."

"That's right. A man-eating, carcass-regurgitating creature of nightmares the world over. No wonder the world hates us–and fears us." The self-hatred in his voice was piercing, like jagged edges of glass cutting into her eardrums.

"Marley was the one who turned us into Pure Titans. We didn't do that to ourselves. How unfair, right?" she said. "Now that we know what the rest of the world thinks of us…. But… I'm neutral about it," she decided at last. "I was born this way. I can't change that. I don't like how the rest of the world thinks of us. But we've done nothing wrong. And I think… we shouldn't have to change. As unrealistic as it may sound… the rest of the world should change how they see us."

"Optimistic to a fault," he sneered. "And there you have it: we didn't ask to be born. Our parents made that choice for us. This world was inflicted on us from the day we were born. And people don't change. People sow hate and violence. And they keep on bringing more of themselves into this world. Reproducing. Those sexual desires that enslave humanity make us weak—and selfish."

As his urgent rant slowed to a stop, he took a moment to regard her with a newfound air of disapproval.

"Which is why you needn't worry, Miss Petra: I aspire to be a more enlightened form of human. Therefore, I don't intend to make any moves on you. After all, if I did… that would make me no better than Captain Levi."

Petra was so stunned at Zeke's bitterness and pointed insults that she was speechless for an interminable length of time. She stared into her mug, took a sip, rubbed her thumb on the lip of the mug, and took another sip. And another. Levi, standing behind her, furiously clenched the fist that wasn't occupied with holding his mug.

Finally she spoke again, quietly but firmly, "You're wrong, Zeke. It's not a sin to reproduce." Then she asked him another question: "Why do you think you were born, Zeke? Were you born for no reason at all, other than your parents' selfishness?" And she added more quietly, "Do you think that we deserve to die for no reason, too? For no other reason than your own selfish beliefs?"

Levi interrupted by dragging a crate up right next to Petra with his tea mug in hand, being quite fed up with hovering silently behind her.

"You need to watch that shitty mouth of yours, Zeke," Levi grunted. "And what are you getting at with thinking like that? Is humanity supposed to roll over and die so we can attain a higher level of morality? Through celibacy or some bullshit?"

Zeke chuckled.

"Not at all. I intend to make things much, much easier than that."

Levi lowered his mug after having taken a long swig of tea. "And how does the Partial Rumbling Plan have anything to do with this?"

The silence that hung between all three of them felt electrically charged in its tenseness.

"'Cause that's why I thought we were all here. So the people of Paradis would have more time to rebuild the population. By having more children."

"Relax!" Zeke sighed. "I'm just spouting some unpopular personal opinions. I don't doubt that Paradisians will prevail. But—you're still as narrow-minded as ever, Captain. Think bigger than merely 'having more children to rebuild Paradis.' Think about what's best for all Eldians. And the rest of the world."

Zeke leaned his head back, the reflections on his glasses shifting to reveal his pupils to Levi.

"Like that boy who you fed Bertholdt to. Armin. Brilliant tactician. If he were here instead of you, I'm sure this would be a very different conversation."

Levi shot him a drawn-out, withering glare over the top of his mug as he finished off his tea, taking his time.

"I have a bigger brain than you realize, you idiot. And you leave his name out of your filthy mouth. That kid is worth more than a hundred of you."

"He might be worth something, even beyond Eren's bias towards his best friend," Zeke mused. "After all, he was worth more to you than your late Commander, wasn't he?"

"That's enough, Zeke," Petra snapped, thunking her now-empty mug down next to her. "If you're here availing of the Survey Corps' hospitality, then you will respect us. Our commanders and our soldiers, whether living or dead."

"Well said," Levi concluded. He gave Petra a nod of approval and got to his feet, and she followed suit.

"Go lie down. I'll join you in a minute," he told her, and she nodded again. Then he went over to Alessandro standing dutifully at the front of Zeke's tent. "Did you catch all that?" Levi asked him in a low voice. "That entire conversation?"

"Yes, Captain," Alessandro muttered grimly. "Got an ear for gossip, you know…."

"Good. Write it all down right now. Every word you can remember. Especially if Zeke said it. Check in with the others who heard it in case they got something you might have missed. And copy it down more neatly in another notebook by breakfast time, 'cause we're sending it to HQ first thing in the morning." He paused. "Get help from someone with nicer handwriting. I hear your penmanship needs work."

"Yes, Captain." And he pulled out his pencil and notepad from his pocket and began scribbling furiously by the light of the fire.

"You can do it," Levi assured him with a clap on the shoulder. "I chose you for a reason."

Alessandro nodded slowly, pausing momentarily in his writing. "Thank you. Captain. I'll do it."

When the Scouts observed Zeke finally retiring to his tent for the night, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Levi rinsed out his and Petra's mugs, tended to the fire by adding more firewood to its base, and went up to the trees to convene with Lauro, his nighttime second-in-command.

"So what do you think about that conversation?" Levi asked him.

"As a former Interior Police Captain," Lauro muttered, "I know a thing or two about keeping prisoners. And Zeke? We're giving him too long of a leash by letting him say whatever he wants to us. He's getting more and more arrogant by the day. He'll only get harder and harder to control."

"No shit. But at least we got him talking."

Levi glanced down at Petra, who lay on her sleeping mat on her side, rubbing her finger back and forth absentmindedly on the woven pattern of the reed mat instead of trying to sleep.

"By 'we', I mean mostly Petra."

Lauro sighed heavily and adjusted his rifle to aim it at the tent.

"Yeah. She did good. Hell of a thing, though. Letting him hit on her just to bait him into talking."

"I don't enjoy doing it," Levi grumbled. "But it was effective."

"Heh. So far. I hope for all our sakes that he actually can manage to be that 'more enlightened human.'"

And Levi could do nothing but grit his teeth and scowl.

"Well, if he doesn't, she can handle herself," he concluded. "And he'll be a hypocritical piece of shit that deserves to be put down."

But Lauro just shook his head.

"Hate to break it to you, Captain, but that's not our orders. We're to hold Zeke here and await further instructions. If we can't control him, we feed him to someone we can control. And if you're that concerned about him hurting Petra at some point… then maybe we should reconsider whether she should be here long enough for something like that to happen."

Levi glared at Lauro out of the corner of his eye. "Even if it worries me… that's not our orders, either. Zachary and Pyxis want her here. She wants to be here."

"And why the hell does it matter what any of them want? You're the one in charge here, aren't you?" And Lauro glanced back over at Levi for a brief but intense bolstering of his point. "The decisions you make out here are at your own discretion. And if you really care about her… you'll do what you think is best for her."

With the lavender tea drunk and the sleep setting into their heads, Levi and Petra lay on their backs on their sleeping mats, grateful for the new measure of privacy afforded by the audibly crackling fire between themselves and Zeke.

"Well. God dammit," Levi huffed. "I would say good job on getting him talking, but I'm more pissed at what he actually said, now that he talked."

"What must he think of you and me?" she sighed, curling up into a fetal position next to him.

"Why should we give a shit what he thinks of us?"

She sighed quietly through her nostrils. "He looked at me like I was disgusting. Like… like a whore who can't stop fucking."

"If you think that fucking is a bad thing, then I'm just as bad as you."

She heaved another dissatisfied sigh but did not add anything else for now. He had only half-registered her words; his mind was now preoccupied with thoughts that related uncomfortably back to him.

"Do you think that murder is always wrong?" he asked.

"I would like to think that it is... but... I'm not naive enough to think that there can never be a good reason to do it. After all, in war it's kill or be killed. Whether we're talking about Titans… or other people."

Levi sighed and looked over past her face into the shadowy trees receding into the gloom of the night.

"The truth is... I'm not as different from Zeke as you might think. In a certain way."

She opened her eyes fully and looked at him openly, waiting for him to continue.

"I've killed people before... and sometimes not humanely, either. I've tortured people to death... I've stood over them... watched them as they screamed... And seeing them suffer... it felt good. But then I felt bad—about feeling good."

She blinked slowly, but still maintained eye contact. Searching his eyes for the feelings behind his words.

"And did you have a good reason? To kill those people?" she asked in an almost-whisper.

He curled his arms up above his shoulders to rest his head on. "I like to think I did. I always believed that they were the sadistic ones first. But—maybe my reasons were wrong, too. And maybe I am just a sick freak like them." He gave a pause, then added more quietly, "Like Kenny."

She nodded.

"Well… at least you can say that you felt bad after doing those things," she insisted. "Even if it took you a while to come around. But Zeke still doesn't. To him, there doesn't seem to be any value in humanity."

"That might be it. Maybe that's his issue: he just feels like he ought to be killing people for some reason. And more babies means more people he has to kill."

She sighed again, more quietly now as she started finally nodding off. "Yeah, maybe… I don't know anymore…."

"Yeah, I don't know what the hell I'm saying anymore," he admitted, feeling how heavy his own eyelids felt. "Let's finish this shit tomorrow."

"Or maybe tonight. See you in my dreams," she whispered over to him, pulling her cloak more securely around her neck.

"Heh. That wouldn't be so bad…." He could feel himself falling asleep for sure now, with a hint of a smile stubbornly hanging on his lips.

Chapter 32: Dream Home

Summary:

Levi and Petra retire to the fireside for a long night after their even longer day.

Notes:

Thank you all for your patience between chapters. I finished my spring semester classes in mid-June, and I've been getting my life back together since then. My goal for the summer is to publish one chapter in June (which would be this one!), one in July, and one in August. After that, there are no guarantees on how fast I can post, unfortunately, but that's life! Thank you for understanding. I'm excited to keep writing because there are some truly juicy plot developments just around the corner. Stay tuned!

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Cuddle" - Motoi Sakuraba (Star Ocean 2 OST)

DAY 3 CONTINUED

They both awoke in a shared dream, standing side-by-side in the dark, still wearing their Scout uniforms and green cloaks. The only thing either of them could see was each other.

Petra turned to Levi and spoke first. "If we're in the Paths in a dream, then we can go wherever we want. Right?"

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow in mild suspicion. "Where do you want to go, then?"

She took Levi by the hand and pulled him along over the threshold from darkness into light.

"Let's go home. To your place."

"My barracks house?"

She gave a single nod.

"That's right."

In another instant, their surroundings grew dim again, and they were sitting on the edge of the bed in his house: the little window above the bed, the small desk and dining table, the kitchenette area, the bathroom, and the front and back doors. The bed was miraculously queen-sized instead of twin-sized now, however, and the floor space was even smaller as a result. The lack of space vividly reminded them of their other bedroom—in Petra's tiny upstairs bedroom in her parents' house.

And he was still wearing his Scout uniform and green cloak, complete with ODM gear and straps, but she was suddenly wearing only the sexy nightgown from their first night together. It was clear what he was most focused on, compared to her. And this obvious mismatch of their priorities in that moment made Levi's face grow sour.

"Why'd you have to go and show him your hickey like that?" he grumbled quite aggressively at her.

"Hey, you gave it to me. Therefore, it's mine to use however I want!"

"I put it behind your ear specifically so people wouldn't see it," he hissed.

She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, which inadvertently made her breasts pop out a little from the top of the v-neck of her nightgown. A pang of frustrated temptation hit him at the sight of her looking even sexier as she got more annoyed.

"Well," she huffed, "you still made a mark on me. Zeke was right, you know: you do like marking me as your property!"

"Not as my 'property', per se," he insisted, now getting flustered at being accused of being in any way what Zeke thought of him as. "I just… I don't know. I can't help it."

Despite her lingering crabbiness over Levi's behavior, she could not help but soften. "You just can't help but cover my body with your lips?" And she leaned in closer to him, half-whispering in his ear: "'Cause you're that attracted to me?"

He glanced over at her just from the corners of his eyes now, pointedly avoiding beholding her too completely in his field of vision. The mere sound of her voice crooning suggestively in his ear was already more than enough to melt his resolve.

"Yeah," he murmured back into her ear. Somehow, he was hyper-aware of the feeling of her gentle breathing on his cheek. "I guess I just like knowing that it's there on you somewhere. Even if no one knows it but us."

"Oh?" she murmured even more quietly. "Like a little secret message, from you to me?"

"Exactly."

She grinned smugly to herself for a long moment, but the feeling could not last. Soon she was pensive again, retreating away from teasing him and pulling her knees up to hug them to her chest again. He angled his body more completely towards her now, watching her.

"What if we've brought bad luck upon ourselves?" she sighed. "What if one day we'll be eaten by wolves out there?"

"How the hell did we bring bad luck upon ourselves?"

"Well…." In her embarrassment, she buried her reddening cheeks in her kneecaps. "By doing it in public. Outdoors on the grass. Again."

"We were behind those rocks. As well-hidden as anyone could be."

"But people still know! They know we did it. Two nights in a row. Aren't you even a little bit embarrassed?"

He paused to consider how best to respond while he crossed his arms. She was fully blushing now, as annoyed as she was.

"No," he declared. "And we shouldn't be."

She shrugged, still hugging her knees to herself. "Well, I can't help how I feel. I just…."

After a long, silent moment, he finally asked, "What?"

"Levi. Why did you brush me off when I said about Zeke looking at me that way? Like I'm… a whore?"

He frowned in increasing seriousness. "I wasn't trying to brush you off. I… I didn't realize it bothered you that much."

But she shook her head, then pressed her chin into the valley between her knees. "That's a bit unlike you. You're usually so perceptive about people's feelings."

"I'm sorry. I guess I was thinking about myself a little too much."

She sighed.

"You know, it might be different for you–because of your mother–but I don't want to be called a whore. Or looked at like one. Or judged like one."

And he leaned back onto his hands, propping himself up on the bedsheets.

"I know. Being a whore is supposed to be a bad thing. But to me, it's… just another job." He paused to look at her. "And you're not one, anyway."

"But even still. It still affects me anyway. The way people think of me."

He paused again to contemplate her before speaking.

"You really were a goody two-shoes, eh?"

And she heaved another sigh. "What can I do? I was raised to think certain things about people–and about myself. But now that I'm with you, it's… too hard to live up to their expectations."

"You just want sex without being judged."

"Yeah. And that shouldn't be so wrong. You know?"

"Yeah." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I could have defended you more. But I was too preoccupied with being angry at him."

"Remember what we said to each other, huh. We can't let him get to us. Or he'll turn us into the worst versions of ourselves."

"Same for you. Don't let him ruin your confidence. You're a Scout. In my Special Operations Squad. And you're allowed to fuck me as much as you damn well please–and make babies left and right while we're at it."

She found herself blushing even more furiously while a burst of chuckles spouted up from her belly, and she clapped one hand over her mouth and the other shielding her reddening cheek from view.

"And all the better if he's jealous of it," he continued without hesitation. "I bet that's why he's judging us so hard: he's just jealous that he can't get some, too."

She chuckled even harder now, sitting with her legs off to the side while covering her mouth with both hands.

"Oh my God—I really hope you're wrong—"

And he gazed smugly upon her as she rode out her laughter. When the final traces of a humorous grin subsided from her face, she heaved yet another sigh and glanced at him, still steadfastly wearing his uniform. In an instant, she had transformed her own outfit to match his, halfheartedly suiting up to deal with the bigger issues weighing on her mind.

"We should talk, hm?" she asked him. "I know we need to get real here. And figure out some bigger problems."

He got to his feet and offered his hand to her, pulling her up to stand as well.

"I'll make us some tea," he said. "And we'll talk."

She nodded and gave each other tiny, knowing smiles.

In another blink of an eye, Petra found herself sitting across from Levi at his tiny kitchen table, gazing down at the wood grains of the tabletop.

"You expect a lot from me with all this 'getting in Eren's head' business." She nibbled uneasily at her lip. "But you always did. Have high expectations. Of Eren, too, back in the day."

A teacup with freshly brewed black tea had magically appeared before each of them. She reached out and held her teacup by its handle, while he held his teacup by its rim as he always did. As familiar as she was with his quirks, and as comforting as it was to see him be himself around her, it also made her feel unsettled now. Despite them both being uniformed soldiers, similarly dedicated to a unified cause, they were both still people—individuals with their own private thoughts, feelings, and unique behaviors. But as long as they were at war, they could only really let themselves be human in their dreams.

"We're soldiers," he concluded, gesturing at her with the teacup in his hand. "There's never any room for error, or for slacking off. We have to have high expectations of ourselves." And finally, he took a sip and set his cup back down on its saucer.

"I know." She sighed again, closing her eyes this time. "I know, but it's just… confusing. You know? Because I don't know what I'm doing. Or what I'm supposed to do. And it's easy for you to say, 'Just figure it out', when you don't even know how to do it, either."

"The stakes are too high for you to just give up because you think it's too hard." His voice came out sharp and strict—the sound of her captain, not of her lover.

"I know! And that's why it's so hard!"

"I told you to figure out how to control your powers to get into Eren's head," Levi grumbled. "Why did we go back to my barracks?" He looked expectantly at her in total seriousness.

"I know our mission comes first, but I just can't help it: I want to go home. Don't you?"

He sighed bitterly as he turned away, gazing across the familiar room. Everything was just the way he always kept it, and just the way he had last left it. Except now there was her, and the things she had left behind as well. When he looked in the opposite direction past her, he noted two framed photographs on his bedside table now: the two photographs taken the day they left.

"That's the only way I can control this: through my emotions. My desires," Petra explained quietly. "How do you think you're able to do anything with your mind, either? How did you bring me back to life?" She stared through him unblinkingly, probing him for answers. "You just wanted it to happen, and… it did."

"I had help from Ymir. I didn't know what I was doing."

"Even so. It started with you."

At this, he closed his eyes as if to reorient his thoughts.

"Then control your emotions. Don't want the things that are distractions." He paused to give her a moment to process his words. "I know that sounds cruel. But that's what we need you to do. We know a bit more about what Zeke is thinking. Now we just need to know what Eren is thinking."

She frowned soberly to herself.

"If you want to go home this badly…" he added, "you can."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, steeling himself to say the words he did not want to say, but felt compelled to anyway.

"I'll send you home. First thing tomorrow." He glanced down at his teacup to momentarily avoid having to see her reaction. And when he glanced back up at her, he instantly felt as uneasy as he knew he would.

She shook her head vehemently. "No. That wouldn't be right. Not without you."

"I'll manage," he insisted. "I always have. Even if I miss you."

"And you were miserable. You missed me."

He leaned forward a little in his chair as he reached for his teacup. "At least now I know that you're alive. That's more than I ever had to go on before. So that'll be more than enough."

She pursed her lips. "What if that's not enough for me?"

He lowered his cup from his lips to speak again. "You can always dream of me. Like what we're doing now."

"No. I want to be greedy for just a little longer."

She leaned forward in her chair towards him as well, resting her elbows on the table.

"I want to stay. For as long as I can. If I leave you here…." She averted her gaze from him this time, staring into the darkened remnants of her tea. "It might be the last time we ever see each other."

"What if I can't protect you out here?" he insisted, his voice growing low with uncertainty. "What if we do our best, and it's still not enough?"

"What if you do your best without me, and it's not enough? Because I'm not there to help you?"

A long pause hung between them. They quietly finished off their tea during the stalemate in the conversation as they each considered what to say next. Finally, Petra spoke again.

"You won't know that you need me here until you do. And if I'm not here–ready–then you'll be one person short. Will you and 30 Scouts be enough to subdue Zeke?"

He eyed her with a renewed strength of resolve. "They'll just have to be."

She responded with nothing but a full-bodied sigh, from its deep inhalation to its drawn-out exhalation.

"With every day that passes, anything could happen. What if tonight is already our last chance? To get you out of danger?" he insisted.

She turned her gaze to look out the window, finding the moon to be in transition from full to waning—still shining brilliantly while it faded away into the blackness of the night that framed it.

"And what about you being in danger, too?"

"We're always potentially in danger on missions. You know that."

"I know…. But if you're allowed to worry about me, then I'm allowed to worry about you, too."

He hung his head and let loose a heavy sigh of his own.

"Fine," he said at last. "Then stay. At least for now."

And she nodded and gave a whisper of a smile to him.

"Anyway," she continued, gazing around the rest of the room. "Since my own parents' house is off-limits to me now… I wanted your home to be my home, too."

He glanced over again at his bedside table. "Is that why you put up the photographs? Over there by my bed?"

She turned and blushed when she noticed the sight of them there, just as she had left them.

"Yeah. They're for you. For us." She gave a tiny smile. "So this place can feel a little more like people actually live here."

He gave an approving nod at the sight of the two teacups on saucers in front of them: two teacups for two people now. He wasn't alone anymore. And he was grateful to have her back. Without consciously intending to, he found himself standing up, pulling Petra by the hand to sit back down on the bed. He took her by both hands and pulled her in close, embracing his arms around the small of her back to sit her on his lap, straddling his thighs. She rested her own hands on either side of his chest and gazed into his eyes, feeling comforted in the warmth of being treasured.

"Do you still feel like all you have in the world is me?" he asked her. "Just you and me, in this tiny house?"

She nodded silently, then frowned.

"When do you think my parents will get our flowers? Tomorrow, maybe? Or the day after?"

"Something like that. Either way, we won't know anyway."

She pursed her lips. "But even so… I can't help but think about it. I wonder what they'll think of it. I wonder what they'll do."

"Hopefully nothing. Just keep on living their lives until all this is over, and then we can send you back home."

"There again with that word. Home. Can't I stay with you in your home?"

She pushed on his chest with both hands, sprawling him on his back on the wider-than-life bed. And she laid down next to him in his embrace. Everything felt so real: the warmth of his arms around hers, and even the tickle of his breath on her forehead.

"This… isn't the kind of home I wanted for you," he admitted quietly. "Too cramped and tiny for more than one of us. But I'm sure your parents have everything you need."

She closed her eyes and nudged his cheek with the tip of her nose. "Everything but you."

He caressed her cheek with his thumb in return. "What if I stay with you in your home, then? Do you think your parents'll have me?"

"Of course they will. They're very fond of you, remember?"

"You think they'll still be fond of me after they find out I knocked you up before sending you home?"

She grinned at him. "I think they will be. They have to be."

And he sighed back at her through his nostrils.

"We'll see."

He pulled her into an even tighter hug. They closed their eyes and for some blissfully long moments, they let things be just as they were: in each other's arms and dreaming.

"All things considered… they'll just be happy I'm alive," Petra said quietly.

They caressed each other's hair for a few more moments.

"But Eren… if he finds out—about me being alive—I really don't know how he'll react."

The room around them morphed into another familiar place: a meeting room in HQ with maps of unreadable stretches of topography laid out on the table they sat at now. But now, instead of plotting a course on land, she was being ordered to navigate the world of thoughts and dreams, which were infinite worlds in themselves. Petra felt her spirit shrinking and remolding inside of her, and when she looked back into Levi's humorless eyes, she saw what she was feeling: in that moment, he was just her captain again, and she was just his subordinate.

She closed her eyes again to help her focus and block out his expectant stare. And she recalled a different room not too different from this one: the basement dining room in the old Survey Corps headquarters. Back when they still had Eren. And when she and the rest of their squad was dead.

There was a time, not too long ago, when she had no real form: she was but a ghost, wandering through the sandy Afterlife, missing the one she loved. But her mind had been unchained, free. Untethered to a body she no longer had.

Now it was the opposite: she had a human, earthly body, and her mind remained stubbornly attached to it. No longer able to flit across time and space as effortlessly as before. Now, moving her mind felt like a sluggish endeavor, and her spirit would not comply….

Think, she forcibly told herself. Remember. Why did Eren change so much?

Petra and Levi found themselves transported into the world of memories now: the two of them with Eren. What they remembered of him, and what he remembered of them. They stood side-by-side and watched as Petra told Eren about Levi's past while Levi listened in from behind the doorway, barging in when she started telling the boy a little bit too much. They watched Levi berating Eren for being unable to transform on command, then Petra walking over to calm Levi down. And then they saw Eren transform unexpectedly while Levi was drinking tea mid-sip. And Commander Erwin stopping Levi from returning to his squad until after he refilled his gas and blades, and Levi obeying. And they watched from afar as Eren witnessed Petra's death.

Petra winced again as she saw her body smash against the massive tree trunk, under the crushing foot of the Female Titan.

"You weren't there for that," she told Levi stiffly. "I'm sorry…."

His eyes were dark, and he said nothing for an interminably long while.

"I wanted to kill her, you know," he admitted at last. "But I couldn't afford to. And it wouldn't bring you back."

She smiled sadly at him. And when they turned back, they found another memory awaiting them.

"You're talking a lot today, Captain," Eren said. He sat at a chair at the opposite end of the table from Levi.

"Don't be stupid. I always talk a lot."

Levi grunted and rubbed his left outer thigh in pain. Eren could not help but notice.

"I'm sorry. Back then, if I hadn't made the wrong choice..." Eren balled up his fists, pressing them into his thighs. "This never would've happened."

Levi glanced over at Petra's chair to his left, where Petra's ghost sat unseen, looking mournfully back at him.

Levi's voice came out icily quiet as he held in his heartbreak: "I told you... no one ever knows how things will turn out."

The Levi watching the scene turned to the Petra next to him.

"I always knew you were still there. Sitting in your chair with us. I could feel you there—just looking at us."

Petra gave another bittersweet smile. "You left the chair pulled out for me—just me. How could I not have come?"

He looked back at himself, gazing at the chair she would always sit in.

"I missed all of you. You and the guys. But…." And he turned back to Petra next to him, looking at him with shining eyes. "You're special. You know that."

She nodded to herself. "And Eren knew, too. I think he could tell… that you and I were different." She paused to weigh the impact of her next words before saying them: "That you and I could have been something."

He sighed. "Maybe. But I couldn't let him wallow in guilt. 'Cause I couldn't afford to, either."

"Well… you couldn't help but feel guilty anyway."

The corners of his mouth curled up in annoyance. "Tch. And you read my mind for four damn years."

"And you eavesdropped on me. You think you'd be any better than me?"

He glared at her for a split second, then looked away. "Whatever."

Back in his barracks house, sitting on his bed again, Levi gazed down at Petra, now curled up asleep next to him with her green hood of her cloak pulled up securely around her face with her hands. He reached out with his nearest hand to move her hands away and pull the cloak down, fixing her hair behind her ear to better view her sleeping face.

"It was all one big, horrible dream," he told her. "It had to be. And yet... it wasn't."

In a moment, she began to stir and roll her head on the pillow. "Hm?" And she sat up as she opened her eyes again. "Did you—remember that, too?"

"Yeah." He held a troubled look in his eyes. "Not my fondest memory."

"I know." She smiled sadly back at him. "But… at least it's in the past, right?"

She reached out to take his hand in hers, and she smiled at him again, reassuringly this time.

"And now I'm here."

They finally gave in to pulling each other in for a kiss, then two, then three, longer and more intensely every time. It felt so incredibly real, from the touch of each other's lips to the warmth of his hands making their way around the back of her head and down her backside. As his hands touched her, her outfit changed back into her sexy nightgown again. Through the thin, breathable fabric, he could clearly feel her body heat; she moaned quietly as he caressed around her curves. And she felt along his shoulders and started loosening his cravat from his neck, only to find his clothing also miraculously melting away to reveal his shirtless torso, glowing with his own body heat under her touch.

"What happened to our other important business?" she teased him.

"Eren? That idiot can wait till tomorrow."

"Heh, I am a big distraction, hm?"

And she collapsed in a fit of giggles, summarily smothered by another kiss from him. But when he gave her an indulgent squeeze around her ass, she squeaked and wriggled her way out of his grasp, pushing both her hands down onto his forearms.

"Hang on a second," she said. "I don't know when we'll really get to go back here, but I wanted to show you…."

She stood up from the bed, squatted down, and gingerly pulled the bottom drawer of his clothes dresser open.

"There they are," she giggled to herself.

"What?"

And she turned back to grin at him. "Hehe, it's a secret."

They both looked around as the walls of the room melted away into blackness and a different room materialized around them.

Levi frowned in slowly dawning realization. "Is this where I think it might be…?"

As if to answer his question, there was a brisk knock at the door. And someone called out from behind it in a chiming, sing-song voice, "Welcome to the Soldier's Secret, where your secret's safe with us!"

A shuffling of cardstock was audible, and an accordion-fold menu popped in from under the door frame.

"Be sure to check out the Secret Menu to arm and supply yourselves for your mission!"

Petra giggled into the back of her wrist.

"We have got to go here in real life. Although I thought you said you didn't take anyone upstairs before. How would you know about any 'Secret Menu'?" She glared at Levi, suddenly suspicious.

"I didn't," he grumbled. "I just happened to hear the door greeters when people would check into the rooms upstairs."

She got up from the bed and fished the menu off of the floor.

"A likely story… okay, I guess it's believable…."

"You don't believe me?"

"Heh," she chuckled to herself. "Ah, well, I do…. I just like to tease you."

"You damn well do. You're just… such a fucking tease…." He dragged her back to the bed by her wrist, slapping the cardstock menu down from her hand onto the bedside table, and he started to slide her nightgown off from the bottom hem upward.

"Good thing I dressed for the part," she murmured, grinning mischievously as he undressed her.

He pulled off her nightgown the rest of the way and marveled at an unexpected sight: a simple, silk maroon v-neck spaghetti strap top and a matching low-cut panty, both with subtle black lace trim. He didn't think that anything could top the sight of her completely naked, but somehow, seeing her wearing just enough to stimulate the imagination was an even sexier sight—until he vaguely wondered how she had gotten her hands on some sexy underwear in the first place.

"So this is what you spent my money on?" he grumbled, unable to help himself.

"You mean your allowance or whatever?" she laughed. "That's right. It cost almost all of that."

He shook his head.

"Wow. Lingerie is expensive."

"Oh, I knew it would come in handy eventually…." She gave a sly, knowing smile.

He leaned back in and kissed her again while exploring the texture of the lace fabric with his fingers. "You think of everything, don't you?"

"When it comes to you."

They sighed and moaned quietly into each other's mouths as they continued touching each other, savoring how real it all felt. He began to slowly dry hump her between her legs with his surging hardness, and his pants disappeared, leaving just their underwear between each other's bodies.

"Wait," Petra mumbled. She turned and reached for the Secret Menu from the bedside table and started to look at it more closely. Not wanting to interrupt things, he started to fondle her from behind. But she quickly grew disappointed, squinting at the paper to confirm what she was seeing.

"Hey, this menu is totally blank," she whined. "What good is that to us?"

He let out a grunt of frustration. "I told you I've never gone upstairs. How would I know what's supposed to be on it?"

Petra sighed in a mixture of mild annoyance and acceptance.

"Okay, I guess that's pretty believable…. We do have to go here for real, I tell you. I want to see this menu!"

"Oh, I agree. Don't worry," he murmured into her ear before taking it between his teeth. She let out a giggle of pretend protest, but moaned quietly when his hand made up for it by sliding down into her bra.

"Hey, if we're dreaming, then can I give you hickeys now?" he whispered.

"Mmm," she said through her smile, "you seem to like the lingerie, then…."

He groaned quietly as he dragged his lips over her shoulder blades, pushing her bra strap down past her shoulder with his hand.

"You look hot," he admitted. "Hotter than usual, even…."

And he flipped her by her shoulder joint to rest on her back under him again, admiring the sight of her before diving down with his lips to suck along the side of her neck and to the top of her breast. She interlaced her fingers in his hair as she followed his head down the side of her chest, her nipple now just barely covered by the bra.

"Well, then, I'm glad I listened to Nifa," she mused. "She said it would 'get a rise out of you', heh…."

He groaned in mild annoyance. "You talk to dead people way too much, I swear…."

"So did you, once upon a time!"

There was a momentary disturbance in the air, then they suddenly felt someone else's presence next to the bed. They turned their heads with trepidation: and surely enough, there stood Nifa in a vermillion green nightgown, woven cream-colored shawl, and her brown, knee-high boots, grinning widely as she looked upon their underwear-clad bodies intertwined on top of the crumpled bedsheets.

"I'm touched, Petra," Nifa gushed. "You did think about me—while you were doing it!"

Petra grinned sheepishly over at her.

"Nifa! It feels like forever already."

Levi groaned in embarrassment and pulled the bedsheet over himself and Petra.

"'About to' do it," he snapped. "We were 'about to'…. Nifa, what the hell are you doing here?"

Nifa grinned widely and crossed her arms.

"Captain Levi. We meet again. You're in dream land now, Captain, so anything goes around here."

He heaved an exasperated sigh and popped his head back out from under the bedsheet.

"How have you been, then, Nifa? Other than, you know, dead…."

"Gee, that's right. Sorry I kept you up at night for a while there."

He sighed again, more quietly this time. "What can you do? I know you didn't mean to…."

But Nifa only grinned slyly again. "You two really are 'Humanity's Strongest Couple'. Or at least, my favorite one!"

"That's nice," he grunted and turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse us…."

Levi turned back to Petra and started brazenly fondling her from behind again (albeit under the covers).

"If we just ignore her, can we make her go away?" he half-whispered to Petra.

Petra sighed and reached down to pry his hands off of her breasts.

"Wait, but now that she's here, we should at least talk to her…."

"She's intruding in our private hotel room," he grumbled. "Did we explicitly invite her over? No!"

"Oh, come on," Nifa huffed. "I didn't come empty-handed, you know."

And Nifa stuck out a folded article of clothing in Petra's face.

"Have a present, Petra! Something sexy to go with your sexy lingerie." Her wide, toothy grin grew even wider. "Which looks even better on you than I imagined."

"Heh," Petra sighed sheepishly. "Um, well, thank you for the gift!" Petra propped herself up onto her elbows, fixing her bra strap back over her shoulder. She unfurled the present to see it properly: a thin, black robe with a gold stripe along the hem, all made of a smooth, luxurious fabric.

"I'm going to make myself a matching robe, too," Nifa continued. "Like an early bridesmaid present for myself!"

Petra started chuckling. "Oh my God, stop."

"Yes," Levi added. "Please."

Nifa conveniently ignored him and cleared her throat. "But anyway, Petra, I figured you needed yours sooner because you're the one with the boyfriend."

Petra was already putting the robe on over her lingerie, tying the waist with the included belt. "Aww, thank you! This is so cute: we can be robe twins!"

Levi groaned and buried his face in the pillow. "No. Now every time I have to see you in that robe, I have to think about your dead, also redheaded best friend wearing the exact same thing?"

"It won't be exactly the same," Nifa insisted. "I'll give it a different-colored hem. Hers is golden yellow, but maybe mine will be red. Or green. Or even blue. Hmm, we'll see…."

"Oh, red will look so good on you! It'll match your hair…. But green or blue would look just as good to contrast with red…."

At the mention of color coordinating outfits, Levi's eyes started to glaze over as he lifted his head from the pillow again.

"I don't know if I really need to be here right now…. You girls have your 'girl talk', and I'll—go outside or something…." And he started to sit up and feel around under the bedsheet for some pants.

"No, stay!" Petra insisted. "I don't mean to make you feel put out. I want you here with us…."

He gave her a tepid glare.

"I feel like you're making me your 'trophy boyfriend' for you to gossip over…. Or your convenient excuse to dress up in sexy outfits for each other."

"Well, I'd be proud of yourself if I were you, Captain," Nifa added. "You are quite the catch!"

Levi just shook his head.

"What are you talking about? I'm really not that good-looking…. Or tall…."

Petra poked him in the chest. "What are you talking about? I'd stare at you all day! You have that intriguing, brooding look… when you look at me all intense the way you do…."

"Agreed." Nifa raised her eyebrows. "I mean, look at those muscles, too…."

Nifa laughed and reached over, playfully slapping Petra on the ass through her robe. Petra giggled and swung the pillow at Nifa, but she only barely grazed Nifa's arm. And while the two women had their fun, Levi was left sitting very awkwardly in the middle of the rumpled half-moon of a bedsheet, still in nothing but his underwear.

"This really isn't a threesome," he grumbled. "One of us has to go, I'm telling you."

"Hey, you can't kick me out before I give you your present!" Nifa said.

"Oh, you have one for me, too?" he scoffed. "Let's see it, then."

"Yes, let's."

Nifa held up her thumbs and forefingers to frame Levi in a rectangular viewfinder for her to peer through. She made a big show of squinting through it and humming as if deep in thought, then she lowered her hands.

"Nah, I think you look perfect as you are. The shirtless look suits those muscles for sure."

He groaned to himself yet again. "Oh my God. Can we get someone else in here but you? Literally anyone else?"

"Wait wait wait," Petra hissed at him. "Don't just say that—"

"Be careful what you wish for, Captain!" Nifa cackled, then turned to see the hotel room door swinging wide open to reveal Gelgar strolling in, just as uninvited as she was.

"Shit," Levi muttered. "I change my mind. Everyone out. Slumber party's over."

"Oh, come on," Petra sighed, not without an amused hint of a smile. "He's already here, so let him have his say."

Gelgar looked dazed, gazing upon them in awe. "I never thought I'd live to see this day…. Alone in the same room with 'Humanity's Hottest Couple'…."

"You…" Levi snapped at him. "Are you the one that Miche was talking about? The fucking Peeping Tom?"

"Well, I missed you, too, Captain Levi!" Gelgar crowed.

"Well, I'm not gonna miss you—" Levi got off the bed, clearly intending to take a swing at Gelgar, but Petra pulled him back by one arm.

"Okay, there's no need to beat him up, Levi… but Gelgar, if it's true that you've been watching us, could you please not?"

Gelgar shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. I figured you'd say that. Sorry I got carried away with that…."

Petra crossed her arms with a tiny huff.

"But, well… I'll choose to take it as a compliment," she decided.

"What?" Levi snapped at her.

"He called us 'Humanity's Hottest Couple'! Isn't that hot?"

"See?" Gelgar insisted. "She gets it! And we're not your only super fans, by the way," he said, indicating to himself and Nifa. "You're more popular than you know. Sweet, innocent Sasha was getting into it in the showers for a bit, too!"

Levi and Petra both squawked in unison: "What?!"

Gelgar waved a hand. "Eh, don't worry, she gave up easy when you made it hard. But I… persevered…." He nodded absentmindedly to himself. "Because apparently, I am a depraved, horny soul… and when I'm drunk, I lose my self-control…."

Nifa began full-on giggling and clutching at her sides. "Oh my God, that actually rhymed. Some people are better when they're drunk."

"Well, you know how it is… or actually, maybe not…" he added, looking at Levi and suddenly remembering Levi's inability to get drunk. "I'm so sorry, Captain. If you can't even feel your alcohol, you really are missing out."

And Gelgar gave a wave and a smirk as he coolly backed out of the open door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Nifa called out after him with a hint of concern in her voice.

"Going next door," he called back. "Gonna third-wheel Humanity's Second-Hottest Couple!"

Nifa just shook her head in resignation.

"I think I know who that's supposed to be," Petra giggled with one hand over her mouth.

"I don't want to know," Levi grunted. And he pulled her back down to hide her under the bedsheets with him, then rolled pointedly facing away from Nifa.

Still not getting the hint (or more likely refusing to yield to it), Nifa perked up and said anew, "Ooh yeah, I heard you two are naming your baby daughter after me!"

"We really don't know yet if it's a girl or a boy," Levi muttered. "Or maybe even like a Hange…."

"Well, I would be absolutely honored if you two do end up naming your baby after me. Assuming it's a girl, at least."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Petra sighed, peeping backwards over her shoulder at Nifa.

"Just make sure you tell them how cool I am," Nifa said. "Not so much that I got shot in the face…."

"Understood," Levi grunted. "Now, please get the fuck out."

"Yes, Captain," Nifa giggled, wiggling her fingers to wave goodbye. Rather than bothering to walk out through the door, she simply disappeared into the shadows in a cloud of black smoke.

Levi and Petra lay spooning silently under the bedsheet for a time, appreciating the newfound silence in the room. She snuck timid glances at his face, watching his scowl slowly easing with the passage of time.

So after a while, she mustered up the courage to turn to him and whisper in his ear, "Levi. I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes and sighed yet again.

"We're not doing this again. Not in a dream—with a bunch of idiots walking in on us."

"I know," she mumbled. "But we're here now. So… why not make the most of it, hm?"

And he could not help but grow weak for her yet again as she gazed expectantly up at him with her big, golden eyes.

"Where were we, then?" he murmured, leaning in and touching his nose to hers.

"You were taking off my lingerie," she whispered back to him.

"That's right."

So they continued making out and getting handsy. First, he pulled her robe off effortlessly with a tug of the waist belt, letting the dark, slinky fabric pool underneath her. And eventually, he returned to attempting to remove her lingerie. But it frustrated him greatly when she teased him by blocking him from removing her lingerie at every turn. He tried pulling the straps down past her shoulders, but the bra would inevitably get stuck around her breasts. And when he tried pulling it up, she would keep her arms down to hold the bra on. With her panties, she kept her legs spread around his hips so he couldn't pull them off, and she rode his erection to massage herself on the crotch area to distract him further.

"Not so fast," she whined. "Lingerie is meant to be savored..."

"This isn't 'savoring'; this is torture," he growled in her ear. "My balls are gonna explode before I even get your panties off."

"Oh dear," she sighed in half-amusement. "Then I guess you'll just have to figure out a way to get them off…."

He examined her bra from the front and the back, but paradoxically, it seemed to have no clasps or fasteners to put it on—or take it off.

"How the hell do you take off something this tight? You couldn't even fit it over your head."

She grinned mischievously. "Hehe, it's just a dream. I can do whatever I want to it."

"Oh yeah? Well, so can I."

So he grabbed ahold of the bridge of fabric in between her cleavage and snapped it in two with a tug of his finger.

"You ripped it?" she gasped, clutching at the torn halves of her bra, trying but failing to keep the cups from separating.

"So? It's not real anyway. I can do whatever I want to it."

She squeaked in amusement as he yanked the bra straps down past her shoulders, then tore the bra the rest of the way off. She lay topless under him, coquettishly pressing her bent arms to her sides and letting her hands rest next to her shoulders. And he marveled at the sight of her, even more luscious and tempting half-naked.

"This is a wet dream, isn't it?" he muttered faintly to himself. "I'm gonna cum in my underwear—in real life."

She smiled knowingly. "Then you'll just have to get up early and take another bath…. And do some laundry while you're at it…."

"Fuck. Again, you're taking me hostage…."

"Do you want to stop, then?"

"Hell no…."

In a playfully threatening way, he growled in her ear again, "Just you wait—I'm gonna tear you up—"

They slowly pulled each other's underwear bottoms off and collapsed onto the mattress again, kissing deeply and pressing themselves against each other. Levi's hand ended up on her left breast, pressing and squeezing a little for experimentation.

"Does this still hurt?"

She took a moment to consider it, then said, "Actually, no."

After they shared a moment of staring quizzically at each other, he kissed her on the mouth with renewed enthusiasm while he rubbed her nipples erect with his thumbs. He took one breast into his mouth, sucked her forcefully, and slowly licked the underside of her breast as he lifted his head, dragging his lower lip against her nipple as he broke contact.

Eventually he ended up between her legs, spreading her thighs apart and exploring her thoroughly with his lips and tongue. When he began to focus his work on the sides of her clit, she let out a tiny squeak and whispered an "oh" to encourage him, guiding his pace by pulling gently and rhythmically on the sides of his head. Soon she moaned louder and higher-pitched than ever before, clutching around his head by his hair, and as her body tensed against his tongue, she released a subtly, curiously sweet nectar into his mouth. When he recognized what was happening, he ran his hands up the insides of her spread thighs and tilted his head around and down over her, lapping up her water. She panted audibly and caressed his ears as he lifted his head.

"Did you just—squirt?" he asked. He pulled her knees together and crawled back up to cradle her shoulders in his arms.

"I guess I did," she murmured. "I figured I would try it…." He took her face in his hand and kissed her on the mouth, and she added a little bit of tongue to taste the traces of herself still lingering on his lips.

"But I didn't think you could do that—in real life, at least," he said as he nuzzled her cheek with the tip of his nose.

"Apparently, in a dream, anything goes," she chuckled.

"I don't know how you even know about that kind of shit. You oughta lay off the gossiping, and smutty romance novels, and whatever the hell else you girls do," he muttered as he clambered over her limbs to position himself on top of her.

"And how do you know about squirting if I'm the only woman you've ever been with?"

He silenced her impudently with a kiss, then half-whispered, "Guys like gossiping, too."

As she grinned uncontrollably and clapped her hand to her mouth, he pulled her head in for another smothering kiss, barely letting her breathe before engulfing her lips in another kiss. And he spread her legs again and entered her at last: she was perfectly lubricated and he slid inside her firmly and smoothly. She whimpered and quivered at his size: long and thick, as large as she could possibly handle…. It was just as good as the real thing, if not better.

Petra squeezed her eyes shut and panted desperately into the balmy air, incredulous at how perfectly pleasurable it was to have sex in a dream. Even though he was only penetrating her with his erection and not touching her clit, she somehow felt herself being stimulated there as well with every thrust: both of them were getting what they liked the best, while expending minimal effort to get it.

She understood it even more intensely than in real life—she felt again what she could not quite put into words until now: the peculiar sensation of being devoured, taken into him by his lips, his hands, and his hips. Indeed, this man had developed quite the appetite for her–and she for him. He poured out all his passion for her in this very moment. The time passed slowly, perhaps not at all: they could finally take all the time in the world. And take time they did.

After many blissfully long minutes of passionate, contented lovemaking, they thought to themselves that they wanted to go to the next level, and surely enough, their pleasure started to increase continually as they moved more urgently with each other. Her moaning slowly grew higher-pitched and his grip around her hips progressively tightened as he thrusted faster. They rode the waves of pleasure until finally, they reached the summit in perfect unison and orgasmed torridly and simultaneously. It was so good that it was unreal, so perfect that it was literally unattainable in real life….

He collapsed onto her, still hard inside her, panting heavily into the side of her neck.

"Holy shit…. We just fucked in a dream…. After we fucked in real life…."

She cradled him in her arms, holding his head close by his hair. "I know, right…. I didn't even know that was allowed…. Or possible…."

"I think I get—why people like lingerie..."

And she shot him another sly grin. "I knew you would, too."

He continued thrusting, more slowly and gently now, and she moaned delicately through her kisses on his neck and down his Adam's apple. After a time, he felt himself going noticeably limp and he propped himself up to pull out, but she whined into his throat and weaved her legs around behind his hips to hold him in.

"No wait, stay…."

He sighed into her hair, caressing the side of her face with his hand, and he let his body weight rest on top of her again as his breathing slowed.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she whispered back. And she thought to herself:

Every time we're together like this… it's like this. I feel like I'm being swallowed up–devoured whole by him. By his ravenous desire for me.

But I can't claim to be any different. I'm the one who told him that I wanted to 'feel alive.' As much as he wants to eat me up, I want to be consumed by him…. He's the kind of person who shows his feelings better than saying them. Feeling alive… feeling his love… feeling him loving me… it's more than I could have ever hoped for. Whether in life or in death.

They kept on kissing gently on the lips and touching each other's cheeks and hair for what felt like only a minute or two, and with another deep kiss on the lips, she felt him swelling and hardening inside her again.

"You feel that?" he murmured.

She breathed, "Yes…."

She lifted her hips into his to encourage him, and he pushed her down, burrowing her into the mattress with the force of his thrust. He thrusted again, falling into a firm, slow rhythm; she moaned desperately and quivered under the touch of his hands, squeezing her eyes shut while she squeezed herself around him. Their pleasure rose slowly and indulgently, taking each other in just this one last time, and they rode each other until the end, savoring the most complete yet desperate orgasms they had ever experienced.

Even more breathless than before, they took a while to regain themselves as they held each other close. When their breathing had slowed to normal again, Levi broke the silence first:

"We really shouldn't do this again. I think we might have… idealized each other a bit…."

"You only took a minute or two between rounds," she commented. "That was a nice surprise…."

"And you squirted…. Damn…. Don't make me get too used to that if that's not real, either…."

"Sorry," she giggled. "But… for a once-in-a-lifetime experiment, I figured: why the hell not…."

When they decided that they were finally done, they put their underwear back on (including Petra's new robe), he put his uniform back on, and they got up from the bed and had tea at the kitchen table again: lavender, chamomile, and lemon balm tea, the same kind that Levi made Petra every night that she could not sleep.

"It's too bad that robe's not real, either," Levi sniffed. "It did look good on you…."

"Who said it's not real? It's just in a dream. Is the dream we're having now not 'real'?"

"Well, now you're scrambling my head with that kind of thinking."

He took a long sip of his tea and sighed heavily upon lowering his cup.

"I wish this night would last forever. Just the two of us, just like this."

"It won't be good to oversleep, though. You still have to change your underwear, at least…."

And he groaned to himself, tilting his head back a little. "Better to get that over with, I guess. Tch. Whatever…."

She pursed her lips together and ran her finger absentmindedly along the lip of the saucer.

"Do you want me to… come with you? Take another bath together?"

But he shook his head.

"You'd better sleep. I'll just get distracted if you're there. I have to wake up and take a bath. Right now, before the sun rises."

This time, she was the one to sigh.

"I'm sorry: you're losing sleep over me again."

He shook his head again, this time in reassurance. "It's fine." And a tiny smile came upon his lips. "It was worth it, just this once."

She smiled back at him more broadly.

"I'm glad you think so."

And so, as they sat grinning and chuckling across the table at each other, Levi leaned on his elbows and propped his chin on his hands.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said quietly.

"See you soon."

The last thing he saw before closing his eyes again was her tiny nod of the head and her gleaming eyes in the lamplight, always happy to see him—and looking forward to seeing him again.

When Levi woke up, the sky was thankfully still dark. He lay stiffly on his back, feeling the sensation of being messy in his underwear, and he sighed to himself and slowly sat up. He turned to see Petra illuminated by the flickering of the fire, still soundly asleep with a contented smile on her face, and he could not help but smirk to himself as well.

We probably shouldn't make a habit out of that…. But damn if that wasn't hot as hell….

But as he got to his feet, he glanced over again at her sleeping face. And he got a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized that they had burned through another night getting far too distracted to do what he had wanted her to do.

It'll have to be tonight, then, since last night went to shit. Every day this takes could cost us, but… we're just two horny bastards out here together. And we need to stop.

And he sighed to himself and crossed his arms, regarding her warily as she slowly rolled onto her side and curled her legs up to her chest, still facing him.

Maybe I should stay up late tonight so I won't be able to distract her again. Let her sleep alone. She'll find her way. Unless… it's possible she could still be searching for Eren right now, while I woke up ahead of her….

After one more long pause to consider how to proceed, he shot his ODM wires, pulled himself up to his rucksack, and took a seat gingerly on the branch while digging around for a clean pair of underwear. And he gritted his teeth in annoyance, grumbling to himself that at times like this, being a guy could be a major hassle.

Chapter 33: Matrix

Summary:

Petra dreams of Eren and finds what she has been searching for and more.

Notes:

Hello again, everyone! This chapter is another shorter one, but a lot happens in it, so please enjoy.

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Vogel Im Kafig (Piano)" – Hiroyuki Sawano

Alessandro sat cross-legged at the foot of Zeke's tent with an Iceburst Stone headlamp on, urgently scribbling in his notebook that he steadily filled up with his written report to HQ. And he was showing no sign of finishing anytime soon, lifting his head and gaining another flurry of writing as soon as he seemed to be coming to an end. Above him in the trees, Lauro was finishing up his own report in his notebook. At last, he heaved a final sigh, closed the pages, and tucked his pencil and notebook back into the breast pocket of his brown jacket.

Ernest noticed Levi come up to his rucksack, rummage around in it, and take the whole rucksack with him to head through the trees.

"Lauro," Ernest began. "Why's Captain Levi going back to the river? Didn't he already take a bath?"

Lauro rolled his eyes.

"Look, kid. Some things you'd rather not worry yourself with. Be glad you're not in charge of anything right now. 'Cause shit gets worse and worse by the day around here, if you haven't noticed."

Ernest scoffed to himself.

"Is it really getting that bad, that fast?"

Lauro nodded grimly. "You know we're having the wolf issue. And that started at the river."

And Ernest groaned and rumpled his hair with one hand. "Shit. You're right."

"Speaking of which…. " Lauro eyed the rabbit snares off a little ways from camp, with three wolves encircling it, and he raised his rifle. "We may already have that issue on our doorstep."

"Shit."

Lauro raised his rifle and shot one wolf dead. The other two fled into the darkness, their paws thumping dully on the ground as they scampered.

At the sound of the gunshot, Nino came up on his wires from patrolling around Zeke's tent.

"What was that?" Nino asked urgently. "Another wolf?"

Lauro sighed and lowered his rifle slowly. "Yeah."

Nino kept gazing down at the site of the trouble, regarding the dead wolf lying on its side in the grass.

"I wonder if these animals are being controlled by our resident Beast Titan, the way he can control other Titans."

Lauro turned to stare at him, mildly interested.

"I mean, if he's a Beast and a Titan," Nino continued, "then maybe he's enough of both to be able to call in beasts the way he can call in Titans?"

There was a long pause that grew increasingly awkward as it drew longer. Finally, Lauro took a deep breath to prepare to give his reaction:

"You could be on to something. But more likely than not… you're probably full of shit."

Nino sighed to himself.

"Nobody likes crazy ideas. Yeah, yeah…."

Lauro raised an eyebrow. "You got any other crazy ideas you wanna run by me? Before you go around sounding stupid in front of anyone else?"

"No." And he sighed again.

Lauro gave a nod.

"A wise decision."

Nino set his facial expression to its usual neutral state and lowered himself back down to the ground. His attention drew urgently to Zeke, the aforementioned Beast Titan: what was he doing? Did he wake up from the sound of the gunshot? He saw Alessandro still standing at the foot of Zeke's tent, scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot while seemingly lost in thought. But as Nino approached, he glanced up for a moment to regard him, then returned to staring at the ground.

"He's still asleep," Alessandro muttered gruffly. "Stare at him too long and he might wake up, though," he added with a scoff.

"Yeah, better not risk that."

Levi returned to the river under cover of darkness again. It seemed to be especially dark, so he knew that dawn was coming. But the crack of a gunshot coming from the interior of the forest gave him pause, and it startled some of the nearby horses awake.

"Shit. Was that a deer or a wolf they just shot?"

He glanced around at the horses tied to the trees along the riverbank. The majority of them had been sleeping standing up already, and although they rapidly twisted their heads and ears around to assess whether they were in danger, they soon calmed down and let their heads droop as they drifted back off to sleep.

"That's right," Levi sighed. "I forgot to chew out the night duty soldiers who haven't been walking their horses."

He paused to recall whose horses he and Petra had taken with them that afternoon.

"Sandro's horse Rosanna… and Ernest's horse Pia." And he scowled to himself. "Tch. They both could do with sticking their noses in other people's business a little less. Although the good eavesdroppers are proving useful when it comes to eavesdropping on Zeke…."

But in another few moments he shook his head to himself, and he put his mind to the mundane tasks ahead and thought of nothing else: he stripped all his clothes off and bathed as quickly as possible, then dried himself off in a similarly businesslike way and dressed in clean underwear again before putting the rest of his clothes and equipment back on. Then, finally feeling more relaxed, he pulled out his hunting knife and strode out into the dark impending dawn, looking for the wolf they had seen earlier. He wanted to observe it, and thereby understand it better. And he thought more deeply on Petra's words: the wolf is not like them, therefore they could not easily understand it. But it was still possible. At least, she believed it. And why couldn't she be right?

However, he never found the wolf in the dark. Instead, he was left frustrated, clenching his hunting knife in his fist, only for it to come to no use. After wanting to tear Zeke limb from limb but being ordered not to, the wolf was yet another source of frustration for him in that moment—yet another target for his violent urges that was infuriatingly out of reach.

Why the hell is it that when I didn't want it there, it was there, but when I do want to find it, I can't?

A familiar voice shouted to him, "Ahooooy! Captain Levi! What are you doing?"

Levi turned in the direction of the voice and saw Sasha, Miche, and Nanaba standing a short distance away from him on the riverbank: ghosts revealing themselves to the living (or at least, just to him, since he was relatively alone).

Miche crossed his arms. "I second that, Levi. Are you trying to get mauled by wolves?"

"It's not daybreak yet," Sasha added, propping her hands on her hips and leaning in for emphasis. "Nighttime is when wolves are the most active. You must be more careful than ever when the sun goes down!

Levi grunted, "If you guys insist on tagging along, maybe you can answer me something: why the hell didn't Petra and I get mauled by a wolf already?"

Sasha grinned widely. "You mean when you two were, hehe, 'going at it'?"

And he glared at her.

"Yeah. Of course you knew about that."

"You guys in this forest aren't too different from the wolves, you know. You and Petra are the 'breeding pair.'" She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she spoke the last two words.

"The what?"

"The dominant male and female. The leaders of the wolf pack–and the only two who get to mate with each other. To grow the pack, you know. Heh."

Levi rolled his eyes.

"Tch. I guess that isn't too far off."

She shrugged. "I bet the wolf that saw you guys figured that you were the leaders. And if the wolf was alone but there were two of you, the wolf was outnumbered." And she added with a grin of relish, "Even if you two were in a vulnerable situation." She burst out in full-bodied laughter at last, with her hands on her hips to steady herself.

He glared at her out of a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment for a long moment, then turned to regard Miche and Nanaba with a curious leaning in of the head.

"Speaking of 'breeding pairs', though, you two..."

And Miche cleared his throat with a fist over his mouth while Nanaba grinned at Levi.

"So you two are a thing now, eh?" Levi asked, sounding amused. "Checked into the Soldier's Secret right next door to me and Petra?"

"I guess I can't deny it," Miche muttered, looking at Nanaba instead of at Levi.

"But we'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it," Nanaba added with a bland frown. "Certain people are already nosy enough as it is."

Miche grunted. "Exactly."

"Hey hey," Sasha whined. "I swear I'm not that bad, Captain. You know that, right?"

"Don't worry," Levi scoffed. "I really don't care either way about your personal matters."

Nanaba and Miche both chuckled.

"You're as rude as ever, Captain Levi," Nanaba sighed. "Well, we're rooting for you and Petra anyway. Even if it is one-sided."

"She does the rooting for you on behalf of both of us. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Miche smirked to himself and gave a great sniff as Levi turned his back to them and stalked back off into the blackness between the trees.

"What's wrong?" Nanaba asked. "You smell trouble?"

An air of seriousness came over him.

"Hm. I think I do."

And Sasha also grew serious and focused, frowning deeply.

"I have that sinking feeling in my gut," she added quietly. "You know, when something is just about to go wrong..."

Nanaba shook her head and pinched both sides of her forehead between her thumb and forefinger.

"It never gets easier," she sighed. "Even when we're only bystanders. If anything, it just makes it all the harder."

Petra was left sitting alone at Levi's dining room table, staring at the spot where Levi had just faded away into nothingness in seemingly a blink of an eye. But before she had much time to ponder what to do with herself next, a gunshot rang out in the foggy depths of her consciousness.

What the hell is going on out there? she asked herself. Huh… maybe they shot another deer. Or wolf. Or something….

And she shook her head, willing herself to think of anything other than wolves. She sighed to herself, propping her chin on her hands, still gazing longingly at the seat he had just vacated.

I didn't used to be like this: So emotional and undisciplined. I was the one telling Eren to control his emotions.

She sighed louder this time.

But then look where that got me. And him.

She looked on at the memories of Eren that came to her mind's eye: Eren using the Armor serum in the collapsing cave, then Eren running away to Marley to take matters into his own hands.

Whenever things seemed hopeless… he didn't rely on others anymore. Those of us around him could only do so much. In the end, we were powerless compared to him.

And she saw the determination in his eyes when he transformed into his Titan in front of Reiner in Liberio.

And even more so now. Eren… what's on your mind?

Seemingly effortlessly, she summoned the image of Eren in her mind's eye, finding him asleep in bed in a dark, underground jail cell with only torches on the walls for light. His eyelids twitched as his eyeballs rolled intermittently beneath them—seeing things, thinking of things.

What were you thinking when you left us?

And the scenery around her shifted yet again, this time to a certain farmhouse, illuminated in red and gold by the twilight sun. She herself was not really there—she had never been there, after all—but Eren and Historia were there, on the porch and believing themselves alone.

Historia was sitting in a rocking chair, leaning back with a creak of the wood cradling her. She closed her eyes in self-admonishment.

"Why did I get so insecure?" she sighed. "I just kept asking him, 'What am I to you?' No wonder he ran the other way..."

"At least you had the guts to even ask him," Eren replied dully. He leaned his elbows over the railing as he gazed out over the open grass.

"I guess it was scary, asking it, though. I was afraid he might say the answer I was hoping he wouldn't say... and, of course, he did."

Eren shrugged. "But I wish I had that kind of answer, too. About me and... Mikasa."

Historia opened her eyes to regard the side of his face, seeking his reaction.

"Then ask her," she said quietly. "Settle everything—once and for all."

Eren pushed himself up from his elbows to grip the railing with his hands now. The sound of birds and crickets whispered in their ears: predator and prey, coexisting in this one moment, singing together to declare to the world that they lived—but only until the hunt.

"Maybe I will, then," Eren said. "Maybe in Marley, I will... But I don't need her answer to know what mine would be."

Historia crossed her arms. "Oh? And what would that be?"

He nodded once to himself. "That I have a choice, too... And I choose you."

At this, she could not help but blush and turn away in embarrassment.

"I'm flattered, but… we'd make a lot of people angry. And that's not even counting this terrible Rumbling plan of yours."

At this, Eren swiveled his head to glare at her, the passion rising in his eyes.

"Why do you care so much about the world beyond Paradis? We lived our whole lives believing we were the last of humanity. We can make it so. And no outsiders will look down on us or send Titans to kill us—just for daring to be born."

And he turned away again, staring at the dirt path leading to the apple trees in the distance.

"We tried to be the bigger people. But Levi was selfish. So we can be, too. We're going back to my original plan."

Historia heaved a sigh and slumped a little more in her rocking chair.

"If you go get Zeke and attack Liberio, a lot of people will die, Eren."

"They're not 'our' people. My duty is to the people within the Walls. If we can't live as long as the rest of the world lives... then the rest of the world will just have to die."

His words hung in the air for what felt like ages. They stole troubled glances at each other, then broke eye contact just as quickly.

Finally, Historia spoke up again, with more resolve in her voice now.

"I guess there's no point in lying to ourselves and pretending that we're good for humanity. If we're selfish monsters, then we should accept it—and live true to ourselves."

I'm sorry if I'm disappointing you, Frieda, she thought to herself. But I just can't be the good girl like Christa who is kind to everyone... Ymir was always right: I can never regret doing the thing that I want to do. No matter who I have to hurt to get there.

Petra suddenly realized that she was not the onlooker: a short distance away was Frieda, Historia's half-sister. And Ymir, the girl with freckles with the name that the Abnormal Titan knew. Ilse Langnar scribbling in her notebook before her death, writing the words that would come to haunt humanity after her death: Subjects of Ymir.

And there was also—could it be—another version of herself. Another Petra—her dead, former self—standing right there with pretty much everyone else she ever knew in life: all Subjects of Ymir, all part of Eren's thoughts, and all part of Eren's plan.

Eren spoke again: "Levi chose not to follow duty. I think he had his reasons... And you have your reasons not to, either. Is 'doing your duty' at your own expense really what you want? Is that really what you think will make you happy...?"

She heaved another sigh.

"I thought you accepted it. Enabled it, even," she insisted.

"Maybe I did. 'Cause I told myself it was for your sake. But to be honest, though," Eren continued, "I'd never admit this to his face, but… I'm glad that Levi turned you down."

Historia stared at him. "What?"

"This way, it can just be us. None of you living out your two-timing fantasies with someone else you like."

He had spoken so bluntly that she could not help but blush a little more. The heat from the sun had completely faded as it set, so she knew it was all from her own cheeks.

"I don't think that's quite fair, Eren, considering you knew about it. And went along with it."

"If I'm going to be honest on what I want… I don't want to have to share you with anyone else. Not even for one night."

Historia's eyes grew downcast, both in flattery and embarrassment.

"And definitely not with someone who doesn't love you back."

"I don't think that's quite true…."

"You really think that you love him? Or were you just telling yourself a lie to make it easier to do the deed?"

She frowned, shifting in her chair. "I wasn't telling myself a lie. More like… I was choosing to magnify a truth."

She could feel his gaze on her as he pondered her words. And it made it all the harder to look him in the eyes.

"Then put us side by side and be honest with me. And with yourself."

He was still staring at her when she finally dared to lift her head, peering into her soul.

"Who do you love more?"

Her voice came out in a timid whisper: "You."

They both looked at each other anew, their eyes full of emotion now.

"Now we can both do better than our parents…. We can have a baby for love. And we don't need any other reason than that."

She pursed her lips, attempting to hold in her rising emotion.

He pressed on, "And it shouldn't have to matter to anyone who the father is."

Eren stared down at his hands, examining his palms as he thought.

"It's true that there's nothing special about my bloodline: your children can still be turned into Titans, if I'm the father. The only protection I can give you is time for the rest of us to end this war before you or your children will ever have to be involved."

Historia closed her eyes and dropped her head.

"But if you do go through with the Rumbling, you're going to make yourself the enemy of the whole world. It will matter if you and I…."

But Eren only shrugged again, then reached down to pull her to her feet to stand before him.

"It will matter to them; but not to us. And we're not obligated to worry about them. Because this is about us."

She nodded slowly—listlessly at first, then more assuredly.

"Do you want to see what I saw?" he asked her. "Back when I kissed your hand?"

For a moment, she hesitated. But then her face was set with renewed resolve.

"If it helps me to see things through your eyes… show me."

At that moment, the sun fully disappeared beneath the horizon, shrouding their kiss in the timely secrecy of night.

Another time, another place: Historia, clad in the crown and robes of a queen, approached a kneeling Levi with an outstretched hand. And Levi took her hand in his, closed his eyes, and lowered his lips to kiss it. As Eren knelt next to Levi, awaiting his turn, his thoughts rang out clearly in Petra's ears.

Is this what we've been fighting for all this time? Was this result today worth everything they sacrificed?

Then Historia moved on to Eren next. He dutifully held her hand and made to kiss it as well, but seemingly out of nowhere, a spark of electricity jumped between their touching skin, and a roaring, cascading torrent of sound, images, and visceral feelings assailed him, paralyzing him in shock. In that moment, Petra was Eren, feeling what he felt, and seeing what he saw: things she had borne witness to since then, things that had yet to happen, things that could happen but might not happen, things that he wanted to happen, things that had to happen, things that could not, should not, must not happen. Petra tried desperately to hang on to any one specific event that flashed through her mind, but there were too many to process individually, pulling her emotions in every direction.

There's no controlling it? No making sense of it? she asked herself. All I get to hang onto is a feeling? A feeling of… chaos, and pain, and at the end… nothing. Because I'm dead? Because they're all dead?

But then a half-whispered, familiar voice enveloped her in warmth. Comforting her in the nothingness.

"See you later… Eren."

Eren? Petra asked herself. But that voice… Mikasa?

It was Mikasa at the end, bidding Eren farewell—at least, for now. It was Mikasa that Eren chose… and the pain of losing everyone else as a result.

No, Eren's voice said now. No matter how I feel about her, if this is where the road to Mikasa leads… then I can't bring myself to choose her. I believe in freedom. But all she knows is slavery—enslaving herself to me, and me to her.

Petra opened her eyes suddenly to find herself laying on her back. There was a canopy of trees above her, and sunlight streaming down around the figure of Eren all grown up, watching her as he knelt before her. She sat up slowly, staring at him as he stared back.

"Petra? How are you here?" he asked her warily. And a bite of aggression tinged his next words: "You died, didn't you?"

"What?"

She turned her head all around her and noticed the giant trees, and the bark of the tree behind her smeared red with her own blood.

"I don't know," she blurted out in a panic. "This is just a dream, Eren."

Seemingly pacified (at least for now), he leaned back on his haunches and closed his eyes.

"Ah, that's right. I must be dreaming. I mean, you died. Didn't you."

And he opened his eyes again, staring piercingly into her, freezing her body and threatening to shatter her self-assurance.

"That's right," she whispered, holding her voice as steady as she could. "I'm just a ghost."

"Then why are you haunting me?" Eren countered, his own voice growing sharp again. "I buried you in the past. I put flowers on your empty grave. And I walked away and didn't look back."

"I don't know," she squeaked. "I can't control it. I just—wanted to see you. To know why you're doing all this."

He stared wordlessly at her for another long moment of contemplation.

"You told me… to trust in others. And that's why you died. But if you want your parents to live… then you'll leave me be. To trust in my own power."

She felt her face grow pale and cold with mounting dread as he continued to stare at her with murderous intent.

"Don't come to see me again," he growled at her now. "I don't need anyone to question my resolve."

She gasped quietly.

"You really will do the Rumbling? And destroy the rest of the world?"

"It's them or us now. They made that choice," Eren concluded, getting to his feet and clenching his fists at his sides. "And anyone who interferes will die by my hand along with them."

She closed her eyes to steady her emotions, and when she reopened them, he was already gone.

The ghosts in the Paths murmured amongst themselves in a range of responses, from vague approval and nodding to quiet unease. In particular, Erwin stood silently with his arms crossed, his eyes blazing with renewed conviction. But all that was soon put to an end by the arrival of one more ghost: the Founder Ymir.

"Well, shit," Kenny Ackerman sighed. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."

"You think it's fun to hear my daughter suffer?" Mikasa's father snapped at his distant cousin. "Over this boy who's brought her nothing but ruin?"

Erwin gave a half-turn of his head, seemingly analyzing their words.

"Heh, don't worry about it, Commander," Kenny muttered. "You'll forget all about it soon enough."

And surely enough, the little girl—the Founder Ymir—spoke to them inside their heads.

You are not Titans. This is not your place.

In the blink of an eye, the masses were left stranded and confused amongst themselves now. And Petra watched her former self grow just as dazed, no longer sure what she had come there for.

"What were we all doing here?" someone asked.

"Beats me," another replied.

And everyone drifted back off into the dark, leaving only Frieda Reiss, the freckled Ymir, and the four Ackermans: Kenny, Kuchel, their grandfather, and Mikasa's father. In another instant, Frieda and Ymir grew stock-still and the light faded from their eyes as the Founder Ymir stared at them.

But then the Founder Ymir turned to Petra—the Petra looking on while dreaming, left sitting alone with Eren gone—and stared directly at her. Petra's heart felt as if it was being clenched by an invisible fist as the little girl's hazel eyes gazed into her own. Her throat tensed up, and she could barely breathe.

You are intruding, Ymir said. You are no Titan.

I'm only dreaming, Petra assured her. I mean you no harm.

Strangely enough, the girl managed to smile, and Petra felt her body relax. She took a great gulp of air out of reflex, heaving in desperation.

Very well. You are an Ackerman now, the girl said in her mind. If you wish to change the path to the future, you should know what that future is. But know that the world will not be kind to this baby if they knew who the father is.

Petra nodded.

"I can keep a secret. From everyone but Levi."

Ymir nodded back in approval.

The only kind of lie that is good is a lie that protects.

And the girl's eyes grew downcast, and she frowned in sudden concern.

That baby is my descendant... and I leave them to you.

Petra nodded again, with more conviction now.

I understand.

Petra awoke with another gasp, finding Levi laying down on his side next to her with his eyes open, staring at her. The sky was starting to lighten with the dawn.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice wary.

She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes.

"A lot of things…. Shit." She paused. "The farmhouse. Eren and Historia."

She bolted upright, staring wildly back at him.

"It's Eren's baby," she blurted out in an urgent whisper.

He scoffed. "No shit. And?"

They stared at each other, then she looked around to confirm that there were no eavesdroppers close enough. And finally, she dropped her head and leaned into him to whisper in his ear:

"And no one can know the truth—for the baby's sake. And…."

He nodded and waited for her to continue.

"I talked to Eren. He saw me in the dream…. I told him that he was dreaming, and that I'm still dead…. But one day, he may figure it out. And it's just a feeling I got, but if he does find out… he might just try to kill me all over again."

Levi hung his head and buried his face in the crook of his arm.

"Shit."

Chapter 34: Morning Light

Summary:

A new day brings more unexpected developments and suspicions, both in the Forest and in town.

Notes:

This will be my last chapter before the fall semester of school starts for me in a week. I really can't say when my next chapter will be ready, but I do hope to publish at least one chapter over the course of the semester, possibly two. Please be patient and enjoy this chapter in the meantime!

Chapter Text

Recommended Soundtrack:

"Red Swan (Piano + Violin)" – YOSHIKI + FURUTATSU

DAY 3 CONTINUED

Sitting at their desk in candlelight with their green Survey Corps formal jacket hung over the back of the chair, Hange read through Levi's first report from his mission to guard Zeke. Hange could not help but smirk to themselves at how businesslike it read, true to form.

"He didn't even mention Petra specifically, though. I wonder how she's doing out there," Hange muttered aloud. "It's a hell of a thing, us sending her back there where she—" And they heaved a sigh. "I guess let's just hear it from the horse's mouth."

And they set down Levi's letter and opened up the letter from Petra.

Dear Hange,

I hope you get this letter, and that you're doing all right. I'm so sorry about Moblit, in particular: I know that you and he were close. If it helps at all, I did see him around a fair bit. He's proud of everything you've accomplished, and he hopes you're not too stressed. But so much of what I went through when I died, he had to go through, too. He wishes he could still be there for you, but he knows that you're strong on your own, too.

I've been feeling lonely lately, so I figured I would write to you. Levi agreed that we could send flowers to my parents—nothing too obvious, but just enough of a nice surprise to give them something to think about. I can't wait to see them again someday. And I wish that you and I had also had more time.

At this point, Hange noticed an additional piece of paper folded into the bottom of Petra's letter: it appeared to be a vaguely worded, handwritten message to the Rals, but addressed from Levi instead of Petra.

"Flowers, eh? To Mr. and Mrs. Ral? I guess I can't see a good reason not to. Huh. I wonder how they've been doing, too." Hange flipped open a notebook filled with hastily scribbled notes to themselves and started a new page with "ASAP Send flowers to the Rals per Levi's instructions. Include custom message from Levi."

I hope that when I see you again, we will have more time to talk. I miss the slumber parties we would all have when you would tell us about your experiments (and gossip, of course!). I miss Nifa, Nanaba, Lynne, Miche, Moblit, the old Levi Squad, and so many others... And I wish I could talk to the younger Scouts, too. Even Eren. I know that he's a touchy subject these days; so much has changed in these four years. But I guess I can't help getting nostalgic.

Anyway, the other Scouts on this guarding mission are a fun bunch. I admit that there are moments when I worry whether they're taking this seriously enough. There is a fair bit of gossiping going around, and one of them likes drawing pictures a lot (although I can't speak to what it is they're actually drawing that's so funny….). But it might be best if I don't mention any names!

Hange started to giggle to themselves, which progressed unstoppably into a great, toothy yawn. Their eyes started drifting in and out of focus, and try as they might, they could not keep their eyelids from closing. Hange's head tilted forward….

"Section Leader."

Hange lifted their head, still feeling groggy. "Moblit…? Is that you?"

Right next to the desk, there stood Moblit in the old Scout uniform and green cloak that he had died in. He propped his hands on his hips and gave a tiny smile.

"I know you're a Commander now, but it's still taking some getting used to."

Hange groaned, suddenly feeling alert again, and with the return of consciousness came all the problems, too.

"Tell me about it. I've had Imposter Syndrome for years." They paused. "Wait. You're… a ghost, right?" And they suddenly got incredibly excited, leapt to their feet, and slammed the palms of their hands onto the desk. "I'm talking to a ghost? Seriously?!"

"Indeed. You fell asleep at your desk. Again." He sighed. "You seem stressed these days. Much less optimistic."

And this time he gave a pause of his own to peer more closely at Hange.

"So very unlike you."

Hange slouched forward a little and rested their arms on the desktop. "Well. What can I do? I feel so… lost–these days especially. I feel like any decision I make could potentially spell disaster. If it hasn't already."

Moblit nodded knowingly. "Paralyzed with fear?"

"Fear… indecision… so many people's lives resting with me. And on how I deal with Eren."

"It's a hell of a thing, what happened with him," Moblit murmured and scratched the back of his head out of habit. "To think that Eren would become the Survey Corps' biggest liability, after Commander Erwin told us over and over how he was our savior."

Hange turned away and stared at the wall in front of her, covered in barely decipherable papers of diagrams and notes tacked up to a wooden board.

"I know. And I can't help but feel guilty. All this happened on my watch–if only I had had him watched even more closely… talked to him even more… maybe I could have gotten through to him somehow."

He gazed at Hange patiently until they turned their gaze back on him.

"You did your best. And you still are. That's the most anyone could expect of you." He smiled proudly. "Commander."

But Hange just covered their face with their hands. "Ugh. Enough of all these titles. I barely feel like I deserve it. Four years since the basement and all we did was talk endlessly about solutions that were never good enough…."

"Never good enough for Eren," Moblit clarified.

"That's right. That little brat. We couldn't figure out what to do, so we ended up doing nothing…."

But when Hange lowered their hands, Moblit had suddenly disappeared already, and Hange found themselves awake and acutely alone again. They heaved a sigh and slumped forward again, staring listlessly at Petra's letter still in front of her.

He's right. If Eren is the most powerful of us all—the holder of the Founding Titan—then the final decision is his. No matter what we in the military would like to think. We just spent the past four years trying and failing to appease someone who will never be satisfied.

They glanced down again at the papers on the desk, this time at the bit of Levi's message to the Rals peeking out:

I found some hope in my life again

"Hope, huh?" Hange sighed. "Maybe he's right. Maybe Petra is that hope. Not just for Levi to find something to live for, but… to change Eren's mind?"

Hange closed their eyes and fought hard to recall those days when they had watched from afar: fifteen-year-old Eren, following Petra around with a dazed look of admiration in his eyes whenever she would smile at him or impart a new nugget of wisdom. And with every new failure—and every new loss—Eren would change. That look in his eyes grew duller, more guarded, and less optimistic.

And Hange heaved an even bigger sigh.

"She's still out there with Levi. But I wish she were here, too." Then Hange suddenly grinned to themselves. "Heh. If only there were a way to get someone in two places at once."

DAY 4

It was a rough morning for Mr. Ral—rougher than usual. More painful than usual to wake up yet again to realize that his daughter—his only child—was dead. He reached out for the painting of Petra on the bedside table and picked it up, gazing at it fondly and tracing the outline of her face with his calloused fingertip. All the hard work he had done in his life had been leading up to her—and she was no more. Now what did he live for?

He turned to his wife, Mrs. Ral, who was curled up in a fetal position, her face pale and listless. At least through it all, they had each other, all the way until the end. She smiled weakly at the painting of their daughter and took it from him, admiring it for a few long moments for herself, too. It was just another heartbreaking morning in a difficult life: one in which the good things could not last, and good things were harder and harder to find.

"What if we… closed the shop for the day?" Mr. Ral asked her. "Just… took a break. Stopped to let things in. Maybe visit our girl again. Hm?"

"She's not even there. Her body went to the crows and wolves."

Mrs. Ral held a hand to her mouth, fighting valiantly to stifle a sob; the framed painting fell face-down to the mattress in front of her. Nevertheless, her eyes grew watery, and she squeezed them shut to hold the tears in, too. He hugged her from behind as she slowly regained her composure.

"You do what you want," she concluded at last, her voice brittle. "I'm not spending any more time wallowing uselessly."

"Wallowing isn't useless," he pointed out. "It's good for the pigs. It's how they take good care of themselves."

But she flung the sheets off her and felt around the floor with her feet for her slippers, not looking back at him.

"Then you wallow in the bedsheets and 'take good care of yourself.' I'm going to work as usual. The less I have to see my own face on top of hers, the better."

As she headed to the bathroom, he slowly turned the painting of Petra face-up and took one more look at it. Surely enough, the glass protecting the painting was reflective enough to show his own face. And when he let his gaze go blurry, he could no longer truly tell whether it was his wife's or his daughter's face gazing back at him. It was both a blessing and a curse to resemble someone they missed but could not see again.

Mr. Ral ended up going to work as usual, too. He could not bring himself to leave his wife alone—and certainly not on a morning when she was so heartbroken all over again. They went through the regular tasks without any extra chatter, going through the motions stony-faced unless a customer came in, for whom they would pull out the smiles to bravely mask their inner pain.

One particular customer, however, was a most unusual encounter: a young woman with nondescript short brown hair came in with a brisk stride, her arms laden with a bouquet of blue and orange flowers wrapped in kraft paper. She wore plain black pants and a white button-up shirt: not explicitly a military uniform, but the way she carried herself belied her true profession.

"Delivery for the Rals," she said matter-of-factly.

"That would be us," Mrs. Ral replied from behind the counter, raising one eyebrow as the young woman thrusted the bouquet into her arms.

"Have a good day," the young woman added and marched back out the door after only the briefest glance at Mrs. Ral's face of bewilderment.

"Sweetie?" Mrs. Ral called out over her shoulder to her husband, who hurried out from the back room, clapping any dirt from his hands onto his apron.

"What's this?" he asked. "A flower delivery? To us?"

"Yeah. Blue and orange roses."

They stared at each other.

"I thought our shop was the only one in Trost that sells blue roses," Mrs. Ral said.

Mr. Ral frowned. "Maybe this delivery is from out of town…."

They set the bouquet down on the front counter and noticed a message card tucked into the kraft paper, hugging the roses as it bent around them:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Ral,

I hope you are safe and well. I wanted to tell you that I found some hope in my life again, thanks to you. This hope is the same as yours: that there is something out there worth living for.

Yours truly,

Capt. Levi

"Ah, the Captain!" Mrs. Ral exclaimed upon reaching the end. "It's been a while, huh?"

"My goodness," Mr. Ral murmured. "Such a cryptic message."

She nodded slowly as she pondered.

"Something… or someone…. I wonder…." And she suddenly perked up as she arrived at her thought: "You know, those orange roses remind me of the color of Petra's eyes. And doesn't the Captain have blue eyes?"

But he shook his head and rolled the roses around by their stems under his fingertips.

"Not quite. I think they're gray, actually. But if you looked at him long enough, they looked like they would turn blue, the longer we would talk…."

At this, she shook her head, too, and she made her way down to sit on her chair and close her eyes, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter.

"They really would have made a lovely couple, don't you think?" she sniffed.

He gave a long pause of his own to contemplate things.

Blue roses… mean 'unattainable love.' And orange roses—for budding love? A new relationship?

And a vague suspicion started to bloom in his mind. He rested a hand on his wife's shoulder, coaxing her to open her eyes and look up at him.

"You know, though," he began slowly, "we never saw her body. Captain Levi told us everything we needed to know."

Mrs. Ral turned her head away again and pried his hand off her shoulder.

"Maybe it was better that way. I hate to think about how it might have happened, but… if someone's going to come home in pieces, maybe it's better not to come home at all."

"Don't say things like that," he huffed. "There's no good in that kind of thinking, even."

"You know that anything's possible if she was killed by Titans. I'm just being realistic."

"So, you did believe Captain Levi. Even though you had no proof for yourself."

Her brow furrowed as she began to grow frustrated. "What are you getting at? Should we not have believed him?" She stood up in sudden incredulity. "Do you think she could be—still alive?"

They both turned pale as they stared at each other, their expressions clouded with unease.

Mr. Ral thought back to the flowers and turned to notice them lying on the counter again.

Orange and blue… two different rose colors…. 'Something worth living for'…. Could it be?

So, having made up his mind, Mr. Ral went to the door, locked it from the inside, and flipped the sign to show "Open" to "Closed" to the people outside.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Ral asked.

"I don't care what you say," he insisted. "These flowers are a sign. For what, I don't have a damn clue, but… we're going to see her—and ask her ourselves."

Petra and Levi were both sitting up on their sleeping mats, thinking silently to themselves as they quickly lost track of time.

"I should take night shift running," Levi muttered aloud eventually.

"Yeah," she mumbled, nodding absentmindedly to herself.

"Captain!" Nino called out, hurrying over to Levi and kneeling next to him.

"First thing in the morning and you come running? Why?" Levi asked.

"Bad news, Captain: we had a wolf problem with the rabbit snares last night."

Levi's eyes narrowed.

"I thought I heard another gunshot last night."

Nino cocked his head in the direction of the snares just outside of camp. "Yeah. So now we have wolf for breakfast and only two rabbits."

Levi furrowed his brows further as he processed this unwelcome news.

"If they're making their way this close to camp already, then this is a problem…."

While Levi and Nino were talking, Petra thought about her dream with Eren and grew sick to her stomach with anxiety at how close she had come to being discovered for her true nature: not a ghost, but alive and dreaming just like him.

Then she suddenly found herself feeling intensely nauseous, and she quickly turned her head, fell upon the grass on both hands, and felt shivers rack her body as she sadly could not stop herself from vomiting what little stomach acid she had in her.

Petra panted desperately between dry heaves, then spit out a little more. "Urp. My stomach… I'm… hungry…."

Levi sighed and rubbed her back as he glanced warily around for any witnesses. Nino was kneeling right next to them, there were some Scouts up in the trees as always, plus Alessandro staring curiously over at them from across the firepit. Nino cleared his throat and excused himself immediately to respect their privacy, going over to stand where the night duty Scouts gathered to go on their morning run. Petra sighed as she watched Nino leave with an unreadable expression on his face. And she gave one final cough and spit the residual vomit out of her cheeks.

"This is why I keep feeding you more," he said in an almost-whisper. "And even then, your stomach's too empty by morning…."

He got up momentarily and brought a full waterskin and a field biscuit over. She rinsed her mouth with some water, and she wrinkled her nose when she sniffed the biscuit, seeming to know that it would taste bad, but she begrudgingly took a bite anyway.

"Ugh. Did these always taste like shit…?"

He frowned. "No, but if you think they do, then that's that. Just—don't think about the taste and just swallow it."

She nodded, looking pale and miserable, but she fought through it and wiped the beginnings of sweat on her forehead with the back of one hand as she nibbled determinedly through the biscuit. Even though it tasted awful, she knew that the only way to make herself feel better was to eat it. Levi sighed again, pursing his lips as he watched her eat.

As if on cue for the very last thing Levi wanted to deal with, Zeke popped his head out of the tent flap in the commotion and cleared his throat pointedly.

"Now that I couldn't help but overhear. What are you feeding her?"

Zeke glanced over at the puddle of runny vomit soaking into the grass.

"Oh dear, someone's having some morning sickness…. Very publicly, I might add."

Levi looked up and saw the night duty soldiers already lining up for the morning run of their own accord; apparently it was late enough in the morning that Lauro had taken it upon himself to gather them up in Levi's absence. Some of them glanced furtively over from the far side of the firepit, then turned back and did their best to pretend not to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Valis came over and spoke briefly to Lauro at the front of the line, and Lauro said, "Yes, sir!" and took the group with him for their run.

"Did you just send them off without me? Without asking me?" Levi asked Valis as the latter approached him.

"You have a situation," Valis responded blithely. "Unless you wanted to leave Petra alone with Zeke right now?"

"Tch. Fine," Levi grumbled, before turning his attention to the Zeke again. "Once again, Zeke, you can mind your own damn business."

"Well, I would like to, but you make it quite difficult, let me tell you…."

Valis glanced wordlessly at Zeke, then gazed down at Levi and Petra, both still sitting on their sleeping mats.

"Captain, I can take the day duty group."

"It's okay," Levi grunted. "I'm already awake."

"No, really, Captain. You should stay with her this time."

Petra turned away guiltily. Levi sighed again.

"Okay. Thanks."

Valis nodded curtly and walked away into the trees, presumably to check on the snares.

"I want to go running," Petra mumbled quietly. "I can still run…."

"Just take a minute first."

Levi got up, made his way to the fire, and poured some water from a nearby jug into the teakettle. While the teakettle was hanging over the fire to boil, he poured more fresh water into Petra's mug and went over to hand it to her. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest and her head buried in her arms, perhaps out of a mixture of nausea and embarrassment.

"Here," he muttered, nudging her arm with the base of her mug. "Drink some water."

She lowered her arms slowly and heaved a sigh as she accepted the mug from him.

"Okay. Thanks."

"I put on some water for tea. What kind do you want?"

She shrugged listlessly, staring at the grass next to her feet.

"Is there any peppermint or lemon balm or something? Something refreshing?"

He grunted in approval.

"Sounds good."

Levi turned again to glare at Zeke.

"Zeke. Take a walk." He beckoned to Henrietta to come over and told her, "Wake Bruno up and have him take Zeke on a walk. And tell him I want report from him tonight before bed."

"Yes, sir."

As she excused herself, Zeke gave a smug smile and held up his hands.

"Captain's orders, eh? Getting me away from the crime scene?"

"You're not 'getting away' anywhere. We have eyes all over this forest."

"Ahh, nothing like pissing in the forest on a lovely morning while getting stared at from all angles," Zeke chuckled. "I hope Bruno gives a thorough report."

And he sauntered away to meet Bruno at the fireside, stretching his arms above his head and yawning, his mouth stretched infuriatingly wide-open.

"I can smell a smoker a mile away," Levi grumbled to himself. "His breath did smell like shit."

On the morning run with the day shift, Petra and Levi both joined in.

"Sorry you ended up in the other group today," she sighed as they began to run in tandem at the front of the line.

"It's fine. If anything, this way I can monitor these guys myself now, too."

Feeling reassured and her stomach settled for the time being with water and herbal tea, she fell in line and kept up with Captain Levi rather easily for a time. But her self-assured jogging pace eventually slowed to a trot as the fluids wore off and her throat grew dry, and she let Levi and multiple other Scouts pass by her before she could hold it in no longer. She clapped a hand to her mouth as she began to heave, and she fell to her knees and started to vomit in the grass just off the path. Not much came out overall, but it was enough stomach acid to spit out from her mouth little by little, multiple times.

Valis, bringing up the rear, stopped and asked her, "Petra, are you okay? You feel sick again?"

Henrietta also broke away and leaned in to check on her. "I didn't see you drinking any wine last night," she mused.

Petra gasped between dry heaves, "That's 'cause—I didn't..."

Henrietta's face was ashen as realization dawned on her. Valis shook his head; he already knew.

"Oi, Valis," Levi interjected from right behind them. "I'll take care of her; you go catch up. You too, Etta."

And Valis nodded once and pulled Henrietta away by the sleeve; she glanced back at her shoulder at Petra, looking worried, then turned away. The two of them left Levi and Petra in the dust, kneeling at the edge of the path alone together. For a long moment, the only sound was of birds twittering overhead, gossiping about their own problems and living their own lives. If only people could also manage to leave them alone.

"I'm sorry," Petra sniffed. She wiped the corners of her mouth with her jacket sleeve. "Should I… go back?"

Levi sighed quietly and helped her to her feet.

"Yeah. Let's go."

The fur and pelt collection created by their various kills—deer pelts and rabbit hides stacked in a small pile on a crate at the campsite—was joined now by a freshly harvested wolf pelt they draped over a tree branch to dry.

"I call dibs on this wolf pelt," Ernest blurted out, standing squarely with his hands on his hips in front of Alessandro and Henrietta tending to the food.

"Why?" Alessandro snorted, stirring the giant cauldron of wolf-and-rabbit stew. "You wanna wear it and howl at the moon or something?"

"Kind of, yeah! See what the wolves do when they see one of us with it."

"They'd probably get pissed off and tear you apart," Lauro snorted, helping himself to a mugful of wine. "Hey Valis, wanna pregame this meeting? Give me your mug."

Valis shook his head, reaching for the nearest jug of water instead. "I'm on duty 'cause I'm day shift. And we still have to use our ODM Gear to get to the meeting, remember?" he added, eyeing Lauro's mug of wine in his hand.

"So? One cup of wine isn't even gonna make me tipsy. Maybe you haven't noticed, but even the Captain does whatever the hell he wants around here."

"Lauro." Valis glared at him. "It's not your place to question him. I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Reasons for keeping things from us? 'Cause I'm starting to get the sense that there are a hell of a lot of things he probably could have told us earlier."

"Well, you can tell that to his face in a minute," Valis sighed. He shook his head, chugged the rest of his water, shook out his mug, and set it upside-down to dry on the crate next to him. Lauro pursed his lips, took a sip of his wine, and wandered off to their meeting with Levi while the younger Scouts watched them leave. An uneasy pall fell on the remaining three.

"Anyway," Henrietta declared, "we should start a business with all these pelts. We can send them back in to town with the supply runners, and they can sell them for us and bring us back the money."

"But they'll serve us just fine as extra blankets, though," Alessandro pointed out.

"Why the hell do you need an extra blanket? You sleep during the day; isn't that already warm enough for you?"

"I mean for you. You sleep at night, don't you?" He paused in sudden embarrassment. "And so do the other half of you guys, you know."

A broad grin slowly spread across Ernest's face as he eyed each of his companions in turn. Alessandro acted cool and stared pointedly somewhere else; Henrietta cleared her throat and turned her back to them to hide her reddening cheeks, suddenly very busy hunting through the crate of potatoes for the perfect one.

"You're not hiding aaanything," Ernest cackled, running away and covering the back of his head and neck with his hands. A fist-sized potato landed squarely on the middle of his back, bowling him over onto his hands and knees and knocking the wind out of him.

"That's what he gets," Alessandro smirked to himself. "Good job, Etta."

She snapped her hood up to hide herself further from him.

"Shut up and stir."

Up in the usual tree branch within view of camp, Captain Levi sat waiting with his legs dangling over, watching the potato-throwing incident with an exasperated shake of his head. Soon enough, Valis joined him, followed in a couple of moments by Lauro.

"Kids these days. God damn," Levi grunted. "Anyway. We're all here now."

Levi looked at the faces of his two subordinates, reading the unease in their furtive glances at each other and pursed lips that hesitated to speak.

"Well?" Levi asked them. "One of you, say something. About the wolf cooking in our breakfast stew, maybe?"

They'd better not be waiting for me to start, he thought to himself. Shit. I feel like I'm the one being probed for info here.

"So, Captain Levi," Valis said at last. "Petra threw up."

Levi sighed loudly and hung his head a little.

"Yeah."

"Twice."

"I know."

Lauro heaved an even louder sigh and crossed his arms. "I guess your after-hours 'couple time' might explain that," he scoffed.

"You got some kind of problem with how we spend our free time?"

"I got a problem with being kept in the dark. And don't pull rank on me. With all due respect... you're not the only Captain around here. Technically."

Valis could only observe the other two as he sat anxiously silent now, feeling his own discomfort building.

"I say we have bigger problems than investigating each other's personal lives. This isn't the Military Police anymore, Captain," Levi snapped.

"Lauro," Valis said. "Captain Levi's right. We need to put aside any drama between ourselves and focus on watching Zeke. Isn't that why we're all here?"

Lauro looked wholly unconvinced. "I'd like to think that. But it looks awfully suspicious if a female Scout pukes during a morning exercise—when everyone knows she hasn't drunk a drop of wine. Do you need me to say it out loud? Your personal lives affect all our jobs here if she's medically unfit for duty, and others have to accommodate her instead of focusing on Zeke."

"Technically, she's not even supposed to be using ODM Gear if she's… you know…." Valis added in a hesitant half-mumble.

"Exactly!" Lauro continued. "You ought to ground her until you can get a doctor over here. Or better yet, send her back right after breakfast with our reports of her little conversation with Zeke last night—damn, that was just last night—and she can see a doctor in Calaneth. Two birds with one stone."

Levi closed his eyes while he heaved a sigh. He knew that with everyone looking to him to keep them all safe, he could no longer hide what was now in plain sight.

"Fine. I'll request a physician to come. And anyone else in need of a checkup can get ready for one, too."

"And if she is pregnant," Lauro insisted, "then she shouldn't stay here. She can't."

"That's not for you to decide."

"Then who the hell is deciding? You? Or her?"

Valis stared for an uncomfortably long moment at Levi before speaking again:

"Do the higher-ups know?"

Levi waited for a few seconds, not wanting to respond but knowing that he had to tell them something.

"Not yet."

"And are you going to wait for them to decide?" Lauro said. "God dammit, send her home already! You were already halfway going to do it last night. I can't think of a single valid reason why you wouldn't now."

Valis shook his head. "No, I can think of one."

Levi shook his head at him now, silently willing him to hold his tongue, but to no avail.

"Your Ackerman powers. You pass them on, don't you? You passed them on to your baby. Which is part of her."

God dammit. Why did I have to pick the smart ones to be my second-in-command?

"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I know."

Lauro rumpled his blond hair and stood up in peak frustration.

"God dammit."