Disclaimer: I do not own Attack On Titan, and I do not wish to. I'm just playing around with the characters. :)
Author's Note:
Warnings:
-Mentions of violent situations and character deaths of the past; it's Attack On Titan, that's bound to come up at some point. Nothing super descriptive or anything, I don't think, but it's hard to be certain when writing for this fandom.
-Throughout this fic, there are scenarios in which Levi is pretty much stalking people, watching them, breaking into their homes, picking specific targets for what he's doing, and so on and so forth. He isn't doing any of this with malicious intentions- far from it- but if that type of thing is a problem for you, then you might want to skip out.
So I know we see Levi in a wheelchair in the end of the final episode.
In the interest of preempting any confused/picky-people comments, I just want to state for the record that for the sake of this fic, I am choosing to interpret the state of his injuries as, "Levi's leg was injured badly enough that he can't rely on it for long periods of time, so he uses a wheelchair when he goes out to avoid being put in a bad situation if his legs give out, but he is still able to walk if he needs to, and can maneuver himself around a house by using a cane or leaning on walls."
If this is different from official canon, well *shrug* guess it's officially a "Levi can still walk to some degree" AU. :P But given the ambiguity surrounding that particular injury, I think that at least for now, it's up to fan interpretation.
There's a legend amongst the remnant of the people of Marley, surrounding the beginnings
of the popular folk hero of the Rumbling Days, known as The Captain. No one knows if any of it's really
true, of course, but there are a lot of things in the historical records surrounding that time
which seem to point to some parts of it being accurate, and as for the rest…well.
It makes for a good story if nothing else.
1.
Levi watches from his seat by the window as a group of refugees gathers wood for the fire. One person carts in logs from a nearby forest, while others chop it up, and still more people gather the pieces into a pile at the side of the camp. They're going to need that fire if they want to be warm tonight.
Everybody avoids looking at the deep divots in the ground, which have only recently become firm and cool enough to walk upon, not that anybody wants to if they can help it. An uncomfortable silence settles over the group as the Eldian members of the camp return from their own work, a subtle yet sharp divide between the two peoples.
Levi is abruptly overcome with a strong urge to comfort these people. To say something, do something, that will lighten the shadows in their faces. He's used to seeing darkness gathered in the eyes of those around him, has grown up with those shadows reflecting back at him from the mirror.
But that was in the Underground, where everybody looked out for themselves, and if you lost, it was someone else's gain. That was in the Scout Regiment, where every mission took your dreams and ripped them right in half along with the body of a new cadet who could have been something in the scouts if only he'd ridden two feet to the left.
That shadowed look wasn't meant to belong to civilians. To mothers and fathers and children barely old enough to write their own names.
It eats at him, and he doesn't know how to help these people in the midst of their mourning. His go-to reaction would be to join them in their work, but the state of his injuries removes that option from the running entirely, which leaves what most people fall back upon by default: attempting comfort.
Unfortunately, Levi is a man who is very well versed in knowing and accepting his own limitations. He's never been the best at comforting people, through words and actions alike. Besides, it's not as if the ones who need it most would ever accept such comfort from him even if he knew how to give it.
Oh, he certainly has prestige and influence aplenty, what with his role during The Rumbling, and his connections with Armin and the other people who are trying their best to pull the world back together. But prestige only serves to make people gawk, to drive a wedge between you and everyone else who feels as though they're not on your level.
As for influence…well, he doesn't mind having it, exactly, but he can't help the feeling that it's not the role he's meant to play. His place has never been with the people on top making the big decisions, unless it's to support them in their own work. Sure, he's perfectly capable of being a leader in his own right when he's the only person available to do it, but it's always been a matter of absolute necessity. Leadership itself has never called to him. He'd be perfectly content with collecting wood on the sidelines or working in the fields beside all the others.
But as far as he can tell, most of the common crowd seems to lump him in with the dreams and positions and ideals of the other heroes of th e Rumbling, and… Frankly, he just isn't good enough with people and honestly doesn't care enough about what others think of him to bother with correcting their assumptions.
So, most people aside from the Scouts, Gabi, and Falco tend to treat him with cautious awe, none of them bothering to get to know him as he really is. But it's fine. This is how it's always been, ever since he got an in with Erwin, even before the man became the leader of the Scouts. It's fine, he's used to it, and it doesn't usually bother him.
Today, it does.
Wheeling his way into the living quarters he's been given—a special privilege due to his still-recovering injuries along with his status as the person who stopped the Rumbling's advance—he finds himself thinking of all the people who are sleeping outside in tents because they no longer have a home.
The legend goes that after The Rumbling, in a town that the Paradisian Eldian Ambassadors frequented, there was a mysterious figure who- for three days a year, during the anniversary of that great horror- would go around at night in a dark green cloak with the symbol of the Paradisian Scouts on the back. He was rumored to carry a cane, and wear a handkerchief over his hair and face, and he would sneak into the homes of those who were overworked and underpaid, leaving them small presents of food and money, and candy for those homes which had children.
But the strangest thing of all was that it didn't stop with the presents. No, this strange figure would choose one house each night, and spend the night cleaning, leaving behind a sparkling home and a large tin of tea on the kitchen table.
2.
It isn't the anniversary of The Rumbling. Not yet, anyway.
Levi dips his cloth into the bucket of soapy water. He reaches down to the floor, carefully sliding his leg out of the way, and scrubs at a spot of dirt where Jean had stomped with his foot in the middle of an argument with Connie the other day. He allows himself to push into the rhythm of the motion, back-and-forth and back-and-forth, into the water and out again, and back.
No, it isn't the anniversary of The Rumbling. It is, instead, the anniversary of the night when his stupid, too-soft heart proved to have gotten the best of his better judgment for once, as his comrades changed before his very eyes at the hands of the one enemy he had failed to kill.
He continues to stand by his decision to choose Armin over Erwin, and as much as it had pained him to let Erwin die, he always will. There were many choices he had made for which he hated the consequences, but if presented with them again, he would do the very same things, because most of the time, you never knew if choosing differently would have made things better or not.
But letting his men drink poisoned wine…that was not one of those choices.
Everything else that had happened that day was mostly up to Eren, Zeke, and chance, and the way they were carrying on, perhaps his men would have drunk the wine anyway…
But it had been his decision to allow them to have that case, and his permission that guaranteed their deaths. And while he would not, and could not, let himself dwell on his part in their fates more than on any of the others whose deaths he had played a part in, he still had to admit that he would have spared them the horror of becoming titans if he had known.
Scooting himself further along the floor, Levi dips the rag into the bucket again, then clenches the rag between his fingers, watching the water drip from the cloth to the floor. He closes his eyes, acknowledging the memory as it comes, then takes a deep breath and lets it out, releasing the images along with it. He presses his washcloth to the floor and begins the rhythm once again. Back-and-forth, and back-and-forth, and back.
Tomorrow will mark the beginning of a three-day long memorial. The first of what is to be an annual time of remembrance for The Rumbling.
Dip, and squeeze.
He isn't sure he wants to go.
Back-and-forth and back-and-forth and scoot.
He'll probably go anyway, of course, but his reticence is worth acknowledging, if only to himself.
Swish the cloth around, make sure it actually gets clean-
He just isn't sure what good it will do, for him to be there. The whole point of the thing is for the people to have the opportunity to mourn, and to remember, and while he certainly feels for everyone who lost people during those three never-ending days…
Well. For the group on his side of the story, the day was less about grieving for the ones who were trampled upon, and more about a shared grief towards someone whom they can't publicly claim to have once called a friend.
The horrors of The Rumbling had been made even worse for the part that they had been forced to play in its inception, and in Levi's opinion, he is one of the last people who should be attending.
Remove the cloth, and squeeze.
He would much rather be working in the camp, or sitting in the doorway of the childrens' tent, a quiet and unobtrusive guardian watching that they don't get into any trouble.
Unfortunately, he knows Armin and everyone else won't see it that way. Everyone else, because none of them played as much of a particular role in those ominous days before The Rumbling started as he had, and Armin, because he has the capability to understand both sides of an issue at once, and would say that it would be better for Levi to be there than not, from a diplomatic point of view.
So. Like it or not, he will probably go.
Back-and-forth and back-and-forth and back-and-
-smush!
The cloth squishes against his hand as it runs into the wall. He blinks, glancing up as his senses begin picking up on his surroundings again, noting that he's managed to complete the entire floor in his musings.
Well. It's probably about time for him to go to bed, anyway. Try to get some sleep before tomorrow.
He just wishes he had some way to contribute to these people that will actually help them. Something that will make him feel like he's doing more than just being a figurehead.
No one is quite certain when this all started. Some say that the first few incidents occurred during the very first Remembrance Days; others believe it didn't kick off until a year or two later.
Either way, it is well known that by the time people realized that there was anything to notice, the incidents had been happening for several years.
3.
The ceremony is very long, and by the time they're finished with the formal part of the day, Levi is ready to go home and take a nap. Thankfully, he hadn't been required to actually do anything other than be there, and his legs thanked Armin for it.
As much as he would like to just head out and leave everyone else to it, that's not the purpose of today. So he sticks around, roaming the area in his wheelchair, watching the different ways that people have chosen to honor their dead.
Some of them seem rather strange, like lighting a bunch of candles, or making offerings at the edge of the giant footprints. Others are more sensible- swapping stories about people who were lost, naming buildings and children after them.
Either way, it's hardly Levi's place to judge. Or to point fingers.
What fingers he's got left, that is.
As he's wheeling his way around stalls of titan effigies meant to be burned, he notices a woman stalking towards him through the crowd. He pauses where he is, and lets it happen.
The closer she gets, the more upset she looks, until finally she's standing before him, crying. "How could you?"
Levi blinks. How could he what?
She continues. "How could you let that- that- monster get to that point? I'm a psychiatrist, I know how these things work. Some people say he must have been a monster from the very beginning, that he was born with the desire to kill. But even if that was the case, I know there had to have been some signs leading up to that...massacre. How could you let him stoop to that level? How could you let him get away with it?"
The part of him that's still an ex-thug, ex-soldier, ex-captain who's dealt with things on a daily basis that most people could only begin to imagine wants to snip at her in reply. But another side that's been showing itself a bit more often lately, now that he has room in his life for more than just preparing himself for his next fight, tells him to stay quiet and let her rant.
Besides. It's not like she's wrong.
"You know, most people hate the Islanders. Even among those sympathetic to the way Eldians have been treated, the vast majority of them despised the Eldians on Paradis, thought them to be the true devils."
He grunts. This was no news to him; he had been at that 'Eldian sympathizers' meeting right along with everyone else. There had been no sympathy to be found in that room. Not for them.
The woman takes a shaky breath and continues. "I always thought they were wrong, you know? I was one of very few people who thought that. But when it comes to- that man-"
Levi sighs. "What do you want me to do about it?"
She huffs. "You're not going to try to make excuses for yourself? To try and defend your people's actions?"
He looks up at her, meets her eye. "What, did you want me to?"
She blinks in surprise. "I- Well..."
His lips twitch in some mockery of humor, but just like most of his barely-existing expressions, it doesn't quite make it to his face. "It's not like there's much I can refute. You're right. When-"
He pauses, not sure if he should really be giving away this sort of information, then decides it doesn't much matter anymore; most of the people he'd have been worried about disobeying were either dead or on Paradis. He continues.
"When his abilities were first discovered, my team was assigned to watch him, to make sure he never became a threat to humanity. Now, granted, humanity was a lot smaller back then- but the assignment was still the same. We were supposed to protect him from anyone who would try to experiment on him, and we were supposed to protect everyone else if he got to be too much to handle." He shrugs and turns to look out at the sea of hardened ash settled along the horizon. "Obviously, we failed. Didn't notice what was going on with him until it was too late." He looks back to the woman. "So. What am I s'posed to do about it?"
She stares, likely having not expected that sort of response, especially from one of the great heroes. From most people, such an answer would indicate that they were taking her lightly, and yet...she can hear in the tone of his voice and see in the set of his eyes that he is being completely serious. He isn't being sarcastic about it, or brushing her off. He actually wants to know.
And she finds that she doesn't have an answer. "I...I don't know."
He sighs and studies the empty space where the first two fingers of his right hand used to be. "Yeah. I don't, either."
Later that day, having seen as much of the memorials as he wanted to see, Levi slips into his room feeling restless. Somehow, despite his misgivings, he had thought that today would be…busier. And it was busy, for most of them, anyway.
Most of them.
Hobbling into his closet, Levi drags out his bucket and a rag. He's not sure why he does it, exactly-it's not as though he's had anyone in here today dirtying his floor up again-but he just really wants to scrub something, so out it comes. Maybe he can clean the hallway instead?
An hour later, he's finished with the hall, and moves back into the bedroom. Staying on the floor (he doesn't really feel like sitting around in his chair, but neither does he want to actually walk), he absently continues pushing the rag along the floor, wishing (for once) that his room really was dirty so he would have an excuse to keep going.
Ten minutes later, he's feeling restless again. Except now he doesn't have anything to do. So he just sits there running the rag over the damp floor.
He's scrubbing a floor which is already clean. How useless can one person get?
The thought hits him like a punch to the gut, and sticks in his mind like a burr. That's his problem.
He feels useless. Useless, useless, useless. Can't walk very far on his own anymore, can't see right anymore, can't hold a cup properly in his right hand-
Hmph. How pathetic of him. Well. That's a feeling that's got to go. No sense in sitting around feeling sorry for himself. The only time someone is truly useless is when a person gives up on learning to do better.
Reaching over to snatch up his cane to help him reach his wheelchair, he drops down into it with a weary sigh. Then, feeling somewhat boxed in, and deciding that staying in here is just going to add to this stupid self-pity party he's been throwing, he figures he might as well go out. Again. Grabbing his wallet, he doesn't even bother to change out of his cleaning clothes before he's rolling out the door and back into the very street he'd been so relieved to get away from earlier.
A few minutes later, following some strange impulse, he finds himself stopping in front of the tent he knows belongs to the woman who had confronted him earlier. Thankfully, it appears that she is... still out. He doesn't know what he would say to her if she had been here, so it really is for the best.
All the same, he just can't shake this strong desire to do something. Not to make her think better of him-he doesn't give a damn about that-just…something.
His hand brushes over his wallet. He pauses, a stray thought slipping into his mind-
It would be easy. Too easy. She'll probably never know it was him…
He rolls around to a spot that will hide his wheelchair from anyone who happens by, and carefully eases himself from the chair, making sure he's stable before trusting his weight to his feet. Shuffling along towards the canvas of the tent, he glances around cautiously, looking for any signs that someone might be watching.
He thinks it's fine, but it's hard to be certain. He's out of practice (as that pickpocket kid from that one visit to Marley could attest; Kenny would have laughed his head off if he'd seen that) and it's not like he ever had to do this in broad daylight. But as far as he can tell, he should be good to go, and if he isn't, well-it's not as if he's doing something wrong.
Illegal, maybe, but not wrong.
Calling upon memories of breaking into houses from a long, long time ago, using skills that he hasn't needed in more than a decade, he slips inside the tent, barely stops to look around at what's inside (though some small part of him still finds itself casing the room for valuables even as he's reaching into his own wallet to gather coins with his left hand), and quietly dumps a handful of change on a small table in the middle of the room.
There. Just like sneaking around in the Underground. Except he's…leaving something behind instead of taking things away. How strange.
It's not enough, of course. Nothing will ever be enough. But it's something, and it helps.
Knowing that the longer he stays, the higher the risk of discovery, he ends his impromptu visit there and limps his way back to his chair. Brushing his better foot over any suspiciously-placed wheel tracks left in the dust, he goes home a different way, with nothing else in mind for the rest of today except tea and maybe a bath.
Part of the reason no one except the Paradisian Ambassadors was initially able to figure out who was behind it, was due to the man's outward persona.
He was well-known to be an ill-tempered, surly sort of fellow, and his past reputation as one of Paradis' greatest soldiers combined with his newer status as a hero and the scars he got during the Rumbling made him seem to most people…unapproachable at best.
Let this be a lesson to us all, to never judge a person by how they first appear. Over the years he spent among the remnants of humanity, the Captain showed himself to be in possession of a kind heart, a generous soul, and a strong sense of loyalty, despite his gruff exterior.
4.
The next day, as Levi heads toward the memorial site, he sees the woman from yesterday chatting with a small group of people on the other side of the road. She's preoccupied with something in her hand, and shows it to her friends in bewilderment. The friends look just as baffled as she.
Good.
Continuing on his way, he finds himself running a considering eye over some of the other people he sees. Moments later, he realizes he's evaluating them as if they were potential hit targets, and pauses in the middle of the street.
What the hell is he thinking? Sizing people up like they're targets for a robbery? What, he loses the ability to fight as a soldier and immediately starts falling back on old habits?
And yet, he knows that even with his injuries, he'd probably be fairly good at it.
Wait. Good at what, exactly? It's not like he's planning to go around stealing things-
Pointedly shoving the thought out of his mind, he carries on with his day as usual. But later in the afternoon, as everyone goes their separate ways, he finds himself wheeling around to the back of a tree-the better to hide his chair-and switching to his cane as he studies the side road he's wandered into.
The people here are more likely to return in the middle of his little visit than the woman from yesterday had been. He'll need to be fast if he doesn't want to get caught.
Taking a few careful steps along the walkway, he makes his way to the back entrance to a local children's home, watching for any spotters all the while.
Content that his approach has gone unnoticed, he sneaks inside and silently pulls the door shut behind him, only to hiss and press into the wall as his leg protests the excess movement.
Right. He needs to account for that now. Okay. He's alright, he has his cane with him, it'll be fine, just…in and out. This is just a quick in and out job and he'll be back in his chair, and he won't have to get out of it again for the rest of the day if he doesn't want to.
Wait. Job? Since when was this a job?
Oh, whatever. He continues onward to his destination: the kitchen. Once there, he grimaces at the state of the place.
Damn kids are gonna come down with something if they keep the whole building like this. Maybe I could-
No. No, he really couldn't. He has little enough time as it is.
It would almost be worth it, though.
Forcing himself to ignore the remnants of juice stains on the sticky (eugh) countertop, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the package of honey candies he'd bought for… some reason. Earlier that day. (Don't kid yourself.)
Gingerly placing it on the filthy counter and hoping that the paper wrapped around it helps to counteract the lack of hygiene, he makes a break for it as best as his battered body will allow.
Just in time, too, as he hears voices from the front of the building right as he's closing the door in the back. For a moment, he's a young teenager again, trying to make sure he's in the clear as he darts into the alleyway trees. It's a relief when he spots his chair, and an even bigger relief once he's in it, but the adrenaline rush he just received nearly bowls right over it entirely.
…Tch. They should really start locking their doors. Someone might try to break in sometime, for reasons other than handing out some candy.
The Captain's nightly exploits would occur at many times throughout the year, but they experienced a dramatic uptick in frequency throughout the month of the anniversary of The Rumbling.
Having made this connection about four years in, there was a person who asked Ambassador Kirstein if he knew anything that could potentially lead to the identity of the one behind the visits.
It is said that the ambassador, after hearing about exactly what was going on, immediately fell into a fit that could have just as well been coughing as laughter.
Upon regaining his voice, Ambassador Kirstein said, "I know of only one person who's likely to not only think of something like that, but also be able to carry it out- but I'm not going to be the one to tell you. No way in hell am I risking his wrath over something like this."
In hindsight, this in and of itself ought to have been a clue, as the Ambassadors were known for being utterly fearless except in the face of their old Captain. But nevertheless, all of the Ambassadors seemed to follow Kirstein's lead, and none of them ever gave any sort of useful answer to questions about their mysterious non-thief.
5.
Day three of the anniversary of The Rumbling dawned horribly bright and clear, in contrast to the dark moods of pretty much every one of the remnants of the Scouts.
Levi could see the pain in Armin's eyes as he remembered both what they had been forced to do that day and why they'd had to do it. He politely pretended not to notice the way that Jean and Connie would occasionally mention something from their training days only to pause mid-story as they came to a point in which the memory featured Eren, unsure whether they should continue. Reiner could often be seen on the sidelines, eavesdropping on these same conversations, looking like a part of him wanted to join in, but uncertain of his welcome.
For Levi's part, he was pretending to listen to Gabi as she chattered on about something, and she was pretending his mind wasn't a million miles away, remembering…remembering…
Hange.
He doesn't normally get hung up on one particular person like this. Most days, although there will be the occasional moment of remembrance for an old friend or two, it's easy to catch the memory, turn it over for a moment, and let it go.
But then, no one had ever stuck around with him as long as Hange had, either. Not his mother, not Isabel and Furlan, not his…uncle?
Not even Erwin, fierce and bold and larger-than-life, had stayed within his life for as long as Hange had been- and the Commander had seemed almost invincible at times.
And the thing is, Levi knew. Oh, he knew that nothing in life was ever permanent, especially in the life of a Scout. But when Hange had survived that horrible ambush, had lived to stand beside him as they learned the Truth of the Walls and the reality of their situation…
Well, a part of him had somehow managed to hold onto hope that this one friend would be the one who stayed.
Which leads him to his current predicament of wishing, despite knowing that Hange's sacrifice was the only reason why they managed to save as much of the world as they did. Because in spite of everything…
He doesn't regret his words, his declaration that Hange would never be able to sit out of a fight like that. Even so, there's a (very) tiny piece of him that he'll never admit exists that wishes he could have taken Hange's offhand suggestion. Stayed in the woods, within that moment, with the last person who knew him better than anyone else.
Maybe they could have…built...a house. Or something.
But that's all it is, and all it will ever be. A wish. A daydream.
One he doesn't give into often, but on days like today…
"Captain?"
"Hm?" He raises his head from where he's been studying the flattened horizon to look at Gabi.
"You okay?"
He pauses, blinks, and actually considers her question. Is he okay?
No. Not really. Maybe in time, in this kinder world where titans don't eat all your friends or smash them into bits or squash them like a bug, but right now?
"…worry about yourself, brat." He mutters as he leans back into his chair, crossing his arms.
He thinks he hears a quiet mumble of, "what's that supposed to mean?" from behind him as Gabi pushes him onwards, but he doesn't bother to comment. His mind is clear for the rest of the day, though his melancholy persists.
That evening, however, finds him unable to sleep. Not that this is an unusual occurrence for him, but tonight it's…worse, somehow. Deciding that staying in bed is a useless endeavor, he starts going through his place once again, reorganizing shelves and dusting them, wiping the floors (they only needed a touch-up, not a full scrubbing), washing windows-
He realizes about halfway through drying down one window that what he actually wants is to not be alone right now.
He scoffs at the turn of his own thoughts and keeps scrubbing.
Unbidden, the memory of the family who is taking care of a small child who lost his parents in The Rumbling comes to mind. According to nearby witnesses, The Rumbling was just a hair's breadth away from taking the child too, when The Rumbling stopped.
If Hange hadn't made sure we were able to make it…the kid wouldn't be alive today. Even if we'd made it past the titans, we would have been later than we already were, and with how close I've heard that kid was to the path of The Rumbling...
I wonder how that family's doing?
Half an hour later, Levi's running out of windows. And excuses to talk himself out of something very, very stupid. Absolutely ridiculous. He's not going through with this, he's not going through with this-
He glowers at the small white house in front of him as if it's the house's fault he'd decided to come here. Grumbling to himself, he goes through the rigmarole of hiding his chair-something that's uncomfortably quickly becoming a routine-and taking extra care with his leg, he snatches up a small, stupid stuffed bear he had left from one of the campsite visitation days, and stalks toward the house.
He is preparing to make an attempt at unlocking the door with his left hand, when he finds that the handle turns easily on the first try.
It isn't even locked.
This startles him enough that he isn't careful about turning the knob, and he accidentally opens the latch more quickly than he'd intended.
Thankfully, he catches the door in time before he can make any more breaking-and-entering faux pas, like slamming the door itself into the side of the wall or tripping over the doorstep.
Damn it. At least those other times, the people weren't home, so he didn't have to worry about the little mistakes. Good grief, he needs practice. Kenny's got to be laughing his head off right now from beyond the grave.
Levi freezes in the shadow of the doorway, hardly daring to breathe until he's certain he didn't wake anyone in his clumsiness. Once he's sure he's in the clear, he steps into the house, planning to do as he had done with the candy and leave the bear in some random place in the house.
He is stopped by the sight of how filthy the floor is.
Now, don't get him wrong-it doesn't look like no one has tried to clean the house at all or anything. From the way the house looks relatively neat otherwise, he gets the impression that it's untidy out of a lack of time or energy on the part of the family rather than a lack of care for the home. By most people's standards, it's probably even decently tidy. But he is not most people, and his standards are higher.
Well. Hmph. He's been wanting a good cleaning session anyway, and his room is generally kept tidy enough that he doesn't need to work on it too often.
Turning on his heel (and immediately regretting it, but being too stubborn to care), Levi makes a beeline for the nearest closet, looking for the cleaning supplies. After a brief search, he manages to locate a broom, a few cloths, a mop, and some soap.
Hours later, after a lot of careful and quiet work, he's managed to clean the living room and kitchen floor, wipe down the counters both top and bottom, move the clutter into a single location rather than being scattered all over the house, dust the shelves, sweep the entrance, and wash the few dishes that had been left in the sink.
Frankly, there's still a good deal of work that needs to be done, but if he stays too much longer he risks the sun coming up before he leaves.
Besides; he's worked for long enough now that it should be worth it to at least attempt to sleep, and also his leg and shoulder are starting to hurt from overuse. Even if he can't manage to actually sleep, he should at least try to rest for awhile before one of the brats comes calling for his attention.
Pausing a moment to place the bear on the dining table-he'd nearly forgotten about it in the suddenness of his cleaning frenzy-he takes one last glance around at his handiwork and slinks into the night.
The entire scenario baffled the people of this city, because what sort of man would perform a breaking and entering simply for the sake of cleaning someone else's house? But as time went on and this tradition continued, people began to look forward to that time of year, and once people learned that their mysterious benefactor liked tea, it became a common custom for the people of that city to leave the supplies for a fresh cup of tea on the counter in the hopes that their little gift-giver would choose their homes to stay and clean.
6.
After that, he's able to put the whole thing out of his mind for awhile, and as things pick back up again following the end of that first Rumbling Memorial, Levi finds himself busy enough with his own life that he doesn't bother worrying about anybody else's. He does occasionally wonder what the kids thought of his…gifts, but it's not important and is a question easily set aside.
However, about three weeks later, he overhears one of the men working the remaining telegraph and telephone lines talking with his buddies about some of the people he's met, and the things they miss the most. Apparently, there's an old man living in the outskirts with a daughter who made it through The Rumbling...and three children who didn't.
"I've heard the man hates all the so-called 'Heroes of The Rumbling,'" the communications officer says. "Says if they'd gotten there sooner, his kids wouldn't have died, and he'd probably have a few grandchildren by now. Can't say I blame him, myself. Most of my family was in one of the Untouched countries, but my sister was in Marley proper at the time, visiting her friends in the Capitol. If that Eren Jaeger wasn't already dead, I'd chop his head off myself."
The man's friends make vague noises of agreement.
Levi sighs to himself. Despite the complexity he knows was involved in that whole situation, he kind of feels the same way. Watching over Eren had been his job for the entire time that Eren had been part of the Scouts. He was supposed to ensure that Eren's powers didn't fall into the wrong hands, that Eren was protected from those who might want to experiment on him or use him for their own selfish purposes. However, a part of that responsibility was also meant to involve protecting the people from Eren, if he ever got out of hand.
Well. Eren sure got out of hand, alright. Except, by the time anyone (or he) realized that anything was wrong, it was too late. Eren had already grown too strong, gained too many titan abilities, for Levi to easily deal with him if it came down to it. Frankly, the only reason they had been able to stop him at all was because Eren had allowed his friends to interfere. Had permitted Mikasa to come close enough to finish him off.
But all of that is beside the point. In any case, Eren is dead, but this old man paid a heavy price for Jaeger's idea of freedom.
He wonders if the man needs anything...he can always sneak around the area, try to find something out.
Levi blinks, realizing where his train of thought has led him once again. Is this... starting to become a thing?
…No. No, no, no! This isn't going to become a regular thing! Sneaking around, breaking into people's homes so he can, what-do good deeds? Isn't this an invasion of privacy? He thought he'd left this part of himself behind years ago. He hadn't even tried to pickpocket any of the Scouts after those first three times! What kind of person even does this sort of thing?
...A half-blind, ex-thief, ex-soldier who seems to have developed impulse problems over the course of the last few days, apparently.
Is he seriously considering this? It's a ridiculous idea, is what it is! Ridiculous, reckless, foolhardy-
But it'd be fun, a voice whispers in the back of his mind. One that sounds suspiciously like Hange. You might not have the strength to fight anymore, but since when have you needed to be physically strong for sneaking around?
...He needed to be more careful about this. He wasn't going in blind. Half-blind, maybe... (Shut up, Hange.)
It could work. This whole sneaking around to help people out thing…He can take those skills he learned from Kenny a lifetime ago and use them for something good for once. But if he's going to make this a regular occurrence, then he should probably think it through a little more. Giving a person some money was all well and good, but with things still as chaotic as they've been...money might not be what a person actually needs. He'll probably be better off using his own money to buy food and other types of supplies.
And he needs to actually take the time to pick his...ah...targets. Case them out, as if he's planning a robbery, but with the objective of finding out what they need, rather than what they can afford to lose. He should probably watch the area that old man is living in, see what types of things they are in need of the most. Once he's gathered enough information, that's when he'll strike.
He'll need to be careful about this one, since it sounds like the man hates him on principle. He should probably go in at night and try to take care of it without waking the residents, just like he did last time. Thankfully, he's always been good at sneaking around. Out of all the people he's worked with, it'd never been Levi who had trouble being quiet.
Besides, despite a full dozen years of living on the Surface, he still feels instinctively comfortable in the dark. It's something he's not sure he'll ever fully grow out of, but in this case, it's a strength he finds himself reluctantly grateful for.
There are tales of people waking up in the middle of the night, only to find a small figure scrubbing at their windows, or wiping down the shelves in the pantry. This always startled people at first, but the encounters usually ended with the person somehow settled by the fire with a warm cup of fresh, expertly-made tea in hand.
7.
For the first couple years or so, he is surprisingly successful at remaining undetected, and the only concession he makes to his identity are the times when he takes note of a tragic lack of tea in a particular home, and chooses to remedy it by leaving a tin of tea leaves on the kitchen shelf. It helps that, considering everything else he's been doing as part of helping with what he can in the rebuilding efforts, he moves around a lot and ends up taking anywhere between a few weeks to a couple months between each few nights of...semi-vigilantism, anti-thievery, whatever you want to call it.
Over time, however, he notices people beginning to talk about a mysterious person, going around at night but not seeming to take anything, and he begins to take more precautions to make sure they're less likely to find out his identity, even as they discover his influence.
...Okay, so maybe it isn't his brightest idea to start wearing his old cloak and uniform whenever he sneaks out at night to hide the handkerchiefs he wears over his face and hair...but hey, it's a dark color without being black- good for blending in at night- and much as he's trying to move forward with his life, he isn't immune to nostalgia. But distinctive or not, it seems to work. Most people outside of Paradis itself don't actually recognize the old Scout Regiment uniform for what it is, and thankfully, he manages to stay outside of his ex-subordinates' radar.
He has a feeling Gabi and Falco might suspect something's going on, considering they practically live with him, but he's avoided being cornered thus far. It's been kind of funny, actually, watching them try to figure out what the hell he's up to.
But like all good things in Levi's life, something eventually has to give. About a month and a half after the third anniversary of The Rumbling, Levi is spending the night cleaning the home of a young couple who recently had their first child. (He had left a baby blanket and a can of coffee on the kitchen table along with his usual gift of tea. The couple could probably use it.)
Now, someone with a little more experience raising small children might have recalled the unpredictability of the early months of life, and made their plans accordingly. Unfortunately, Levi has never had the opportunity to spend much time around children under the age of five. He forgets to take into account that babies- especially when they're only a few weeks old- have a sleep schedule that often causes them to wake up at odd hours of the night.
As such, it catches him off-guard when, in the middle of scrubbing the hallway (and in a pretty vulnerable position, he can't help but note) at two in the morning, a wail- surprisingly soft, yet still piercing- sounds from behind the wall. Even more damning, after the cries begin to quiet down a few moments later, the door near the parlor opens and a young man steps out in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes and making his way towards the kitchen.
Swearing silently to himself, Levi scoots further backwards into the hall, hoping that the man won't notice anything amiss. But luck does not appear to be on his side tonight. The man steps fully into the kitchen, and a questioning noise can faintly be made out as his footsteps come to a halt.
He's noticed the things on the table. Great. Just great.
A moment later, footsteps can be heard once again, this time coming closer.
"Honey?" The man calls, "Do you know where all this stuff came fro-" He freezes in shock as he rounds the corner, words cutting off abruptly the second he sees the stranger sitting in the middle of the floor with a bucket by his side and a scrub brush in his hand. He blinks, as if to dispel an illusion, before coming to the conclusion that yes, there is an intruder in his house. The man adopts a defensive stance, tensing as if gearing up for a fight.
"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?!"
Levi is rooted to the spot. He doesn't know what he ought to do. Most of his prior experiences with being caught breaking-and-entering tended to involve shoving the person to the side before they could properly react, and making a break for it before they got it into their heads to actually attack him. Neither of these is a good option at this point; he doesn't want to hurt this man in any fashion, and he's too far away to try it even if he did. Trying to run would be pretty much pointless, considering how difficult it is for Levi to stand up from floor-level in the first place these days, let alone managing to run past the man and out of the house without being caught or taking a nasty fall in the process.
So, he does what any sane person would do in his situation: resorts to snark.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He mutters back, holding up the brush. When the poor man doesn't answer, seeming to be at a loss for how to react, Levi figures nothing good will come from acting confrontational, and goes back to his cleaning.
The man stares at him for a minute or two more. He finally finds his voice again. "You broke into my house."
Levi raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look up from his work. He sees no reason to deny an obvious truth. "I did."
"...You broke into my house..."
Levi glances up at the man. Did he break him? "...Yeah."
"You broke into my house...just to clean it?!"
Levi's lips twitch. He knows exactly how ridiculous it is, but, well...It's relaxing. He doesn't expect this man to understand. "Mhm. Left a present on the counter, too."
"Look, mister...You can't just- break into- why would you even-" The man puts his face in his hands and groans in confused frustration. "I am not awake enough for this."
"You could always go back to bed. Sounds like the baby's calmed down, now."
The man gives him an incredulous look. "And just...leave you out here? In my house? By yourself?"
He says nothing, continuing to scrub. He's almost done with this part of the hall anyway; he'd started at the back of the hallway and was moving his way forward.
The man sighs. "Just...don't come into our room. And don't take anything."
Levi grunts and nods at him. The man takes a deep breath and gives a jerky nod in return, then heads back to the kitchen, presumably to finish what he went in there for in the first place. A few minutes later, he returns with two steaming mugs of something in hand, gives Levi one last glance, and steps back into his bedroom.
"Who were you talking to, honey?" Levi hears from beyond the wall.
"I...I'll tell you in the morning."
He's out of that house the moment he finishes cleaning the floor.
It hardly seemed fair to make this strange little man do all the work, so the folk who lived in the most commonly frequented areas began to stay up late on the three nights of The Rumbling, when he was likely to be out and about.
8.
As word of the 'mysterious person's exploits' continues to spread, Levi finds himself getting caught more and more often, regardless of how careful he is. After awhile, he gives up and just starts making them tea. Might as well let them keep an eye on him to make sure he's not doing anything worse than dusting the fireplace; it's hardly the worst scrutiny he's ever been under.
Then one day, about seven years in, something even more surprising happens.
He had snuck into the home of a middle-aged man named Carlos who worked as a mechanic. The trains had been down for the last few weeks, and everyone in the area with technical knowledge was working overtime to get them back up and running. The man had no time left over for anything else, and his mother had been ill for a few days and was unable to clean their house. So Levi figured he'd go in, do his thing. Maybe it'd cheer them up a bit, maybe it wouldn't.
He'd gotten caught. So, he went through his usual routine for when that happened, and sets Carlos into a chair at the kitchen table with a cup of hot tea and a small plate of cookies Falco had made, which he had brought with him for just this eventuality.
People were always more inclined to shut up and let him do his thing if he plied them with food.
For awhile, it works. Carlos shrugs to himself and settles in to drink his tea. However, he doesn't continue to follow his assigned role.
Once his tea is finished and he's eaten one or two of the cookies, he leaves his teacup on the table and gets up, moving over to the closet. Levi pauses, suddenly worried that the guy is going to make a fuss at him after all. To his surprise, a moment later Carlos settles in beside him with a bucket of warm water and a damp cloth and begins moving things off the shelf in the pantry, setting them down on the floor. Levi freezes in place, blinking at the man in surprise. Carlos looks over at him and grins. "It's about time this place was cleaned. Momma always wants to clean it, but there's never been any time, what with keeping up with the rest of the house."
Levi stares as the man begins to work on washing the shelves. He recovers quickly, however, and it's only as the set of his shoulders begins to relax that he realizes he had tensed up in the first place.
It's a little strange, seeing someone else working beside him as he cleans. He's had cleaning partners before, a long time ago...but it's been...awhile, since the last time he'd had anyone cleaning alongside him.
It feels nice. He hadn't realized how much he missed it. The man goes permanently on his good books when he makes him a cup of tea afterwards, and it's actually good.
Over time, The Captain stopped bothering to hide. Over time, the people he went to help began to help him in return. Over time, they began to help each other as well.
As the years went by and traditions were established, it became common for The Three Days of The Rumbling to be used as an excuse to show up at someone's house and offer to help them clean it. Gifts were often exchanged, and it turned into a sort of tea party. This became so common that the tea industry boomed during that time of year, with different shops competing with one another for the best varieties and blends of teas.
One year, The Captain and all the other heroes were invited to one such party, and they arrived in confusion to see a bunch of the previous recipients of The Captain's goodwill standing decked in green, with handkerchiefs over their mouths and hair, aprons draped over their fronts, and mops, brooms, and rags in hand.
"Hullo, Captain!" one little boy cried. "Guess what, guess what! We're going to YOUR house today!"
"Hush Tim," said his mother. "It's only if he wants to."
Now, most people will tell you this part never happened...but there are some who say The Captain cried.
Author's Note:
Hi! Isti here!
This came from when I was feeding my chickens a few days after watching the final episode and I was like, "what if Levi snuck into people's houses and then became the AOT equivalent to Saint Nicholas!" and the idea hit me hard enough to make me want to write it and then it grew into THIS monster of a oneshot. :P
I was not expecting this to be so long. My original expected word count was somewhere around 2-4k! Sure blew that right out of the water, haha.