Chapter 30: Just What to Say

Missions packed back to back, only little ones (mostly recovery), but they kept the Captain busy. He seemed to spend his evenings writing with Hange over his shoulder, stuck up in trees to avoid abnormals and packs of titans as they waited for reinforcements. Based on what she'd seen of his performance eight months earlier, she didn't think the titans posed much of a threat to either Scout. Nevertheless, she enjoyed reading of his Wall Maria exploits, Hange's theories (which she insisted be documented to someone worth telling), Erwin's latest ideas on how to best avoid carnage, and his team's relentless bothering. On days he was in the city for busy weeks, she sent replies, compliments, and stories of her own.

Mr. Solway has a sweetheart, one of her letters informed, and they'll likely be married in a month. In case you've been occupied by significantly more important matters (wonder what those could be!), Mr. Solway has been friends with Larmie since they were children, supported his marriage and would marry Hajule should father die first, loves Jamie as if he were his own, and has long declared that he's married to his work and our community. But Miss Sari Haevyn, a widowed refugee from Maria, has stolen his heart. Mr. Solway's visited the farm every evening for advice and to bare his soul, and days when Hajule and Larmie happen to be absent, that's my doing. You wouldn't believe the ridiculous questions he asks. "Do women care more for tulips in clay pots or dandelions in metal cups?" and "What is the best way to avoid a woman's scorn—a downward tie, or folded in half?" He's completely blind to the reason she's completely in love with him. A few weeks after she settled, Mr. Solway settled a fierce debate which should have been handled by the Military Police. Due to three months of shortages, the distributors gave refugees a quarter of their share instead of evenly distributing what was available to those present. He stood on his shop's porch and in few, plain words, called anyone listening to action. He reminded them of the hunger they'd faced when Wall Maria first fell, and how it was difficult to see their children cry out in pain, but worth it to preserve humanity and reach out to those in need. Nearly everyone listening returned home and brought something to donate to hungry families, and Mr. Solway was working till ten at night repacking the goods. Miss Haevyn offered her hands, and the two of them hit it off. She refused to take an extra share for herself, instead adding that little extra to the packages. He invited her for dinner, and that was that. She remembered pausing for a moment in the writing. He says it's my fault, really. He hasn't had a reason to think about courting or anything of the sort. But since I—well, we—have the idea present in his mind (and letters often passing through his fingertips), that it's my duty to make sure it goes well. So, any advice from you, the other willing party?

The captain's slight smile was practically visual in the next text.

Do someone else's job, it seems. He did what the Military Police refused to do, same as I did. A titan inside the walls isn't the Scout's responsibility, but no one else felt comfortable getting eaten on a Tuesday afternoon. Maybe for our next date, I'll join the Garrison for a few hours and finally skewer the Colossal Titan.

That'll be the day, Edie mused. His letter went on.

Many congratulations to the happy couple, although I find myself awfully jealous of the time on their hands. Working side by side sounds like an excellent mixer, though I'd be furious if you decided to join the Scouts now. Erwin wouldn't mind.

She picked up her pen and put his mind at ease.

No worries, captain, I'm quite settled here. Jamie will be with you all in just two and a half years, more capable than anyone else on his squad, I guarantee it. Without his help and with recent expansion, the farm's busier than ever anyway, and I'm a bit of an expert on growing things. Who would've thought? Me, a fighter and survivor, cultivating life as if it were a second nature. Maybe it's inside of everyone, to nurture and sustain, but they don't work at it for the eight months it takes. Take a crop too soon, and it dies. Leave it on the branch too long, and animals will get at it. The deer and raccoons I don't mind, but the birds have seed feeders all around town. Why do they need our food?

His reply spanned five pages, back and front, of the neatest and smallest handwriting known to man. She had to wait till the clearest early afternoon light to make out some of the miniscule letters. The captain began by bearing his heart again:

Those infernal animals. Infernal was written over five times, with ink bleeding through the page. He skipped the spot on the backside, the backwards letters enforcing his opinion, still blaring on about the same topic. On each mission, vultures circle the regiment, knowing a feast is underfoot. Titans invariable eat two or three Scouts on each journey, usually of their own undoing, and barf up their remains. Those infernal birds circle and circle, just waiting for us to finish fishing out belongings and uniforms and weapons—whatever we can salvage to take back to their families—and dive once we're twenty meters away. We can hear them for miles, yelping and cawing in delight. Not to mention the hawks that circle open fields, diving on full grown hares and dropping them from eighty meters in the air. You can hear the mammal's neck break over the horses' roaring. But it's a rabbit, so we don't talk about it. It's how nature is. We'll go to Nedlay one of these days, out of pure contempt for the creatures, but this awful species of pigeons never flies, just hops around eating crumbs from the restaurants and scaring full grown dogs away. I've half a mind to find a lion and release it in the streets. Smaller cats wouldn't be effective, or half as satisfying. Swinging through the air feels just like flying, I imagine, but those pests do it so effortlessly, and for no reason at all. Most of them could hunt their prey on the ground and live on the ground, and their wings are a taunting reminder that a species was designed better than us.

The argument went on and on, but Edie circled that little noun early on and issued a small reply.

What's a lion?

The first two pages of his next letter were still on those pigeons, expanding on how their littler got everywhere, and no one took care of the droppings. The city was a nightmare, and if he was ever forced to live and work on one of the jutting city, he's rather burn Nedlay to the ground than live there. But then he answered.

It's a fierce mammal that's gone extinct since now. They lived in packs, with one male living with a group of females. The lionesses hunted and took care of young, while the lions protected the territory from other packs. Some children's books used to have pictures of the beasts (great animals, used to hunt other awful beasts) before the Church suddenly realized lions were extinct and pulled the books to be burned. It was an offence to the walls, they declared, to even know about monsters that the walls protected us from. That's why titan knowledge is limited to military recruits, too. There was a break in thought, some more rubbish about lions, before he continued his explanation. But where I grew up, there was a steady stream of old, old books, so we had some copies overlooked by the purge.

A decent account. She didn't pursue it further, for how interesting could an archaic animal be in a budding relationship? The setting was of interest, but her slight inquiry led to naught. Childhood matters were touchy, and she had no desire to dive into her own. Already the psychoanalysis was at full, jesting force: he diagnosed her family loyalty as fear of losing loved ones, her love of the earth and early morning as rebirth in her identity, and love of sunflowers as a turn to the light, whatever that meant. The letters increased in word count and pages month after month, until she picked up her pen on the fifth month to write to an old friend, rebutting what he had to say about sparrows (they were on the only species she enjoyed) and discussing in depth the terrible sweep of Sina taffy on the school (poor Mr. Emerson was all too happy to be soon retiring).

Mr. Solway and Miss Sari would be engaged within the month if the man picked up his courage, the Cartwell farm was now the fourth largest in the region but the highest producing, Jamie trained in the top tenth of his class, and Edie had her second date set with the captain.

He entertained conversation in a different way than anyone she'd met. Jamie always had an ear for her, but his naivety tended to overlook her hidden meaning. Hajule and Larmie, loving as they were, absorbed one another. She ran an experiment the week before, asking both of twenty questions over the course of ten days, separately and around the same time, and documented how many times they mentioned their spouse in the answer. Hajule said Larmie's name eight times out of twenty and eluded to his opinion six more times. Larmie mentioned Hajule each time, as a "let me see what my wife thinks" sort of response (even about what shape of cloud indicated rain more), and mimicked her opinion more than his own. Their bias was evident in each conversation afterward, the conditioning that living with the same person for thirty years can bring. Mr. Solway was quite eccentric, and she never clicked with Corini or Tinnul, especially now that Tinnul was expecting their firstborn and spent most of her time rocking on her porch. Amile was effectively out of her life, but he'd had a sort of arrogance in his voice that never worked out, even when Jamie knocked him flat on his back.

The captain had no hint of bias, never sounding like someone else. And Edie read critically, searching for any argument that was Erwin or Hange's instead of Levi's own. Their thoughts were well cited, and she had no cause for deception. His reveries were his own, duly noted and well-constructed, inviting and delighting in response. He was honesty at its finest, and over the five months, Edie accepted that she hadn't really made any other friends. Earlier, it might've been a bother that lead to a completely different storyline headed by Hajule, but now, she felt relief at having one.

An evening engagement, per your last request. Hori heard about sunflower tea and wants to run a few blends by you. I'll make it up to you tenfold. I spent too many evenings at Hori's as it is, when we stay in Ehrmich. Thankfully, most of the regiment authority are planning for a mountain training, to test new ODM gear. They should be tuckered out, or at least sore, and we'll have most of the city to ourselves, given the weeknight.

Edie crossed her fingers and agreed. The letters were lovely, but they weighed as a stack on her dresser. They'd be taller than both of them combined if the absence went on any longer. Her mission hung in the back of her mind, of testing the waters and ending it softly, but those plans were never entertained long. She kept a growing list of questions, tying them to sentences and word choices in his letters, wanting to clarify and sort all she'd learned about the captain since seeing him last.

The expected morning arose with complications. Six farmhands took sick with a terrible cough, and the family's throats weren't without exception. But Edie powered on, drinking tea and working the fields relentlessly. She couldn't cancel, not without missing another three-month window. She couldn't stand to see those letters stack higher and higher, of seeing the Scout's forest green wax symbol pass through Mr. Solway's hand again without having a recent image to call back. So by late afternoon, with a mostly healed voice and warm hands, she hurried back inside to get ready.

"We won't be behind after all," Larmie said in a drowsy voice, barely heard through the walls. "But we were out…and the storm rolling in…ah, well."

"Please, just sit down. You're not getting up tomorrow, and we're thankful as it is that you haven't sprouted new pox. These Maria refugees have some diseases we're not used to, and you're not as young as you think you are."

"Only forty-six, darling."

"Sure, thirteen years ago."

"Barely anything."

"Sit."

Larmie would be utterly disappointed that he couldn't sass the captain, so Edie readied quickly, kissed both her parents, and waited on the steps. Clouds roared and rolled overhead, and anxiety settled in her stomach. He would've seen the clouds clearly from Ehrmich's outer gate, and perhaps turned back. Bad weather was indicative of bad missions, after all. Perhaps that would be grounds for the first-intended rift.

It wouldn't be so bad, maybe. She could write a long letter detailing what the farm looked like right before a storm. A foggy gray settled over the grass, like the haze after inhaling too much pollen from the nightshade flowers. The land changed between blinks from a warm, welcoming safety to a warzone, filled with the scent of death. Flowers, healthy only a moment ago, wilted, and the winds carried children's whimpers. He'd appreciate the poetry, add a touch of realness to it, and clarify some of the metaphor in his reply. Perhaps that same reply would give a new date, or new disappointment.

Low thunder rolled as the captain turned to their driveway, some thirty feet away. Edie left the poetry to the step and rose to meet him. Her stomach flipped around as his horse flew close, although the rider's figure was obscured by a Scout's cape. The animal skipped to a stop a bit away, spraying mud below the ankle. Edie was glad she had her boots on.

The captain dismounted, and their eyes met for the first in four months. Neither had method to understand it, but the time settled. All the letters, all the wonderings, all the dreamings and hopings, all the late nights when sleep wouldn't come, all the exhausted afternoons when the words were a sweet stupor. And all the things that were never written about-Amile's arrogance; Hange's couple names; Erwin's terrible romantic suggestions that, thanks to heavens above, never made it on the page; and Jamie's snide comments that romance was dead after being turned down a third time—all of that transferred in those long three seconds. Time stretched forth its hands and worked them like clay, until both let out a laugh and jumped into an embrace.

Her hair flicked into his face, and his cape obscured hers. She managed to whisper a muffled, "I can't believe you're finally here!" before her feet touched down again.

"Neither can I." His hand lingered on her cheek, and after blinking a moment, he surveyed the sky. "Quite a storm coming on." He motioned toward the house. "Shall I—"

"Oh, no. They're both sick as dogs. They send their greetings."

"Duly returned." He helped her on his horse, effortless climbed himself, and turned. "Are you alright with a gallop?"

Edie stroked the beast's side. "How fast can he go?"

A smile lighted his face, and they broke off.

She kept both hands securely around his waist this time, hugging his back close. Her hair flew wildly in the wind, but the look of it hardly mattered. He was here, right here, not on a page or in a dream. Not an occurrence three, two, or one month away. His hood bellowed up at a point, nearly taking out her eyes, so Edie settled her head over his shoulder, watching the road carefully. The captain, sensing his partner secure, maneuvered the road expertly, leaping over muddy portions and taking shortcuts through straight fields when the roads swerved. What could be an hour's journey ended after twenty minutes, with the walls practically appearing out of thin air. The guards opened the doors presently, as the captain hadn't left long before, and the two locked hands and hurried to Hori's shop.

"Dia can't run like that anymore!" She shouted over the intense wind. "It's lovely to have the wind in my hair."

"And in your face." He reached across and helped tie her hair back. "It's so long."

"It's a bother sometimes. You gentlemen are lucky, with your set styles and lengths. No one would be caught dead with flowing locks."

"Conformity is key."

Huge raindrops started splattering down three blocks from Hori's, and despite their incredible speed, both were soaked at the doorway. Hori, insanely busy with the "sudden" rainstorm (city folk were amazingly unobservant), they found a table near the back and waited it out.

"Okay. Hange's thing about orange?"

"She's determined to ban it from existence." He'd barely caught his breath. "Reasons being that it's an awful color, causes things to stand out—which isn't great when your survival depends on camouflage—and struggles to match with anything."

"So—why?"

"Erwin's a tactical genius with incredible leadership capabilities and the best memory in the regiment. Of course he'd buy her a neon orange jacket."

"That must've cost a fortune." Edie leaned back, her hands on her face. "Oh, god. I've been thinking about this for forever."

"Better yet, he's not a birthday gift kind of person. He started training Hange in strategic planning a few months back and thought it'd be a good idea. She went off on him for nearly an hour before realizing she was speaking to a senior officer." The captain shook his head. "He'd just started working on some paperwork and asked if she was finished. She apologized, bowed, took the coat and left."

"Good riddance. Has she burned it yet?"

"Even captains have spot checks. She doesn't want someone to report it missing from her closet."

"What a mess."

"And so avoidable." He set a hand on the table. "How have you been?"

"Unbelievably restless. I didn't think four months could ever last that long."

"My squad started timing how long I'd shut my eyes after they announced another leg." He huffed for a minute. "But you're no stranger to the government wanting a million results in half the time."

"Oh, I'm fully familiar." She shivered and pulled her wet coat shawl tighter. "How were all those missions? You hardly wrote about what you did."

He fell silent and shrugged a little.

"Is it confidential?"

"Unsettling."

"I can take it."

"There's…no need."

"Well, do you at least have someone you do talk to? Erwin, or Hange, or your squad?"

The captain shook his head. "We've learned from experience that those experiences spoil the present. Others sometimes gather to talk, but that's usually over alcohol and is too disorderly for my tastes. Suffice it to say that I'm glad it's over and am not eager to get back to work."

Edie offered her hand over the table. "Okay."

"How's Jamie?"

"Distraught, at the moment. He's competing for the top spot against some girl named Amora Buckley, but over the last few weeks, he got a bad crush for her. Apparently it started when she saved him during an ODM exercise. He stopped one of his comrades from barreling into a tree but was knocked off balance as a result. The other guy would've lost his life, and Jamie would've just broken a leg, but she caught him halfway down. He just can't handle a girl's arms around his waist."

The captain nodded knowingly. "That's inevitable."

"Anyway, she—" Edie stopped and stared at him quizzically. "Wait, really?"

"Mm hmm."

"That's the sweet spot?"

"Hange and Morris dated for four months because she accidentally touched his back, he became obsessed, and she was too distracted to say anything about it. In her words, she got eight free dinners and a decent make out partner for the price of a brush."

"Good gracious." Edie took a moment to contemplate her own power. "Maybe it's just magnified for teenagers. He's been off his game since then, trying to either go out with her or one-up her. Neither are working. In his words, she's as flexible as a snake and twice as ruthless. Whatever the case, she's planning to go into the Military Police and isn't convinced by his self-sacrifice act." She tilted her head, thinking. "She might hate him."

"Sounds like it. Some of the temporary cadets we get for lower level missions are the top trainers set to be in the top ten, and we take them beyond the walls for exposure and battle experience. They're insufferably condescending. Jamie can do better."

"I keep telling him that, but somewhere in the space between twelve and thirteen, he's decided he knows more than the average bear."

"What a shame."

The ever-stewing Lee brought them a platter of sunflower teas and paper, saying his fuddy-duddy uncle was dealing with the rush but still wanted their honest opinion. He muttered something about half price on sandwiches and scuttled away. Teenagers, Edie thought, hope Jamie's not like that when he's finished with the Cadets. Only two and a half years to go. The five months took the dickens to pass, but now that they were over, she couldn't believe they were gone. With all her thoughts on the captain, she hadn't paused to think how tall he must be now, and to be thinking about girls

The captain closed his eyes, dealing with a heat. "Don't try number five."

"Got it." Edie sipped the first, then the second, both with hints of honey, but one with a lavender addend. "Unless the last three are exceptional, I think the second is the best."

"Mm?" He took it from her hand, drank, and agreed. "The best ones overwhelm your other senses."

"Yeah. Seeing and smelling and practically touching the sunflowers." She pressed her thumb and index finger against one another. "You can feel the soft petals between your fingers."

Four, six, and seven had no redeeming qualities and might as well have been a tree in a cup. The eighth was too sweet for the captain, but Edie thought it worked as an evening blend, perhaps paired with a bready dessert, and said so much on paper. But between the crowd and having eaten there before, the two gave their compliments to the brewer, submitted the homework, and braved the storm.

The captain knew of another restaurant, one with indoor seating, fine windows, and a place to wait out the storm should it last much longer. They maneuvered under eaves, avoided dripping drainpipes, and used his canvas cape to cross the streets. Halfway through the journey, Edie spotted them, another flash of green further up the street. A group of young men and women dashed around the drops, making their happiness a spectacle. Her eyes drew to the group, stuck on their closer laughter and jokes. One was the center of it all, younger than the rest, messing up the puddles and predicting the patterns on his pants. When they were a block away, he swaggered about, saying it would be a shaggy puppy chasing a tennis ball, leapt feet-first on the water, and called his comrades wusses for screeching.

One of them turned, diving under the breezeway, and gasped. "Captain!" She turned to her friends. "Captain Levi's here."

As salt on a hot griddle, they danced around and enveloped the couple. "Gone for a night on the town, eh?" one said whilst straightening his cape.

"We're heading the other way! To a completely respectable establishment!" Another assured.

"And all this?" The one who had been jumping in puddles threw his attention from their realized guest to his muddied trousers. "Where did all this come from? Some kid must've dumped it on me! From the roof, yeah!"

The captain narrowed his eyes at the spectacle. "You're a mess."

"…I know."

"A disgrace to the regiment, right?" The girl who's turned first elbowed her comrade, then set her eyes on the captain's date. "We were just heading out, whenever Tauren finished playing. But you must be Edie Cartwell."

Edie accepted the handshake. "That's right."

"I'm Petra Ral," the girl said. "And this is Oluo Bozado. We're in the captain's special ops squad."

"I know. He's mentioned you both often in his letters." She couldn't recall much about their fighting techniques, special abilities, or reasons for it, only that Levi handpicked them for his squad. These were the people who had helped keep him alive those five miserable months. "It's wonderful to meet you all."

"Hange's talked so much about you, I feel like we're friends already. She says you killed a titan without any training!"

"She's exaggerating, I'm afraid. The captain killed the titan, I just happened to be running from it quite well."

"Don't be modest," the captain responded, hooking his arm with hers. "You held it down."

Edie turned her attention toward the rest of the group. "And you all are-?"

"Not important enough to get an introduction with the famous captain's girlfriend," Oluo interrupted. "We're taking them out for a proper night. They just finished a full three months with the regiment, which in military speak, means they're more likely than ever to live to twenty-five."

"What a relief."

"I'M TAUREN LENSKI!" The missing one said, saluting. Oluo smacked him on the back of the head, took him in a hold, and dragged him into the rain. The others followed, screeching, and the captain took a few steps into the rain to get their tempers under control. Petra, alone at last, pulled Edie into a quick hug.

"We're all so eager to get to know you." She let go quickly, squeezing Edie's hands for a moment. "He really loves you, you know. Spends every free minute writing letters now, when he used to just sip tea and brood at windows. Have a lovely evening, really." With that, she brushed past the captain and ran to catch up to the others.

The couple turned back to their path, in a bit of a daze. They hooked arms again, and Edie leaned closer to his ear. "Remind me why you picked them to be in your squad?"

"Oluo's a genius with ODM gear. His style's similar enough to mine that we alternate well."

"And Petra?"

He sighed "She's in love with Oluo."

Edie punched his arm. "That is not—"

"Well, it wasn't a deterrent. She's observant, more than most. She picks up on environmental factors and deduces strategies, but waits for orders."

"But they're still a couple."

"Oluo still hasn't noticed."

"Good riddance." She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You scouts are so…slow, for needing to be so fast." She slipped her hand lower and clasped his hand; his palms shook, slightly, but noticeably. "Are you nervous?"

"A bit." He pressed their hands against his jacket, pretending to dry them, but instead steadying the shake. "They can be…"

"Exuberant?"

"More or less."

"Jamie's the same way. Hajule and Larmie were so embarrassed after Corini and Tinnul's wedding. I kept telling them that nobody was thinking about him."

"Erwin was mostly responsible for that one."

"Half and half. They're perfect for each other."

"Mm hmm."

The food was decent, but the wait was insufferable. Everyone in Ehrmrich wanted to eat here, it seemed, but that at least gave them reason to sit on a bench and just talk. Her questions were all about his squad—how they came together, pet peeves, funny stories, heroic moments—and the captain shared more and more. Erwin and Hange made guest appearances, and Edie began to be genuinely concerned for the latter's street safety. When the queue finally lessened, both ate lightly, took bread to go, and took to the streets.

"There's this one spot with a great view," he promised, helping her up slimy steps. "It should be deserted tonight, though."

"Perfect." Boots saved her once again.

Stairs snaked around the building and to the roof, where a stone gazebo overlooked most of the city. The house sat on a hill, so the whole city, alive with light and movement, blazed forth. Sina cut it all off, looking down on its inhabitants with wise protection. Edie and the captain sat on a bench overlooking it all. Nearly a foot apart, their hands barely touched.

"Looks like snakes," she commented. Streets waved in an uneven fashion.

"Architects are baffling people. They hardly know to work in straight lines."

"It might be orderly, but less exciting. I don't mind the city so much from up here. And the rain drove most people away."

"It did." He looked at his hands. "I was glad you met Petra and Oluo."

"Me, too. They explain a bit about you."

He looked doubtful. "Really?"

"Sure. They're good at what they do, but still carefree. You can't protect other people and still have that attitude, I don't think. So, the way I see it, you help them be a little freer."

"Freedom's necessary for what we do."

"Sure, with the wings and all. But it's human, I think, to want to be free. Despite the work, they get to experience it. It's nice, to see that it doesn't weigh on them." Her eyes peeled away from the beautiful rainstorm to his forlorn glance. "I'm sorry, that's…impertinent. I know we've only known each other for such a short time."

"There were years within those five months," the captain observed.

"Sure, but it's no reason to overstep all the experience you have."

"Yet you're right." The captain looked at his hands, and two rolls of thunder rolled as he thought. The storm was moving closer. "I'd never written letters before," he finally admitted. "Everyone on my squad was shocked, as if no one's ever used paper for communication. Oluo and Petra and Eld and Gunther all spend at least one evening a week writing, but I'm the novelty. But there was nothing else I wanted to do with my time."

"Oh, they should understand perfectly, if they're writing, too."

"Their letters are wildly different. Full of memories, jokes, quips, even proverbs. They write descriptions of the outside world and ask for their favorite dishes when they come home. They promise to bring meat and special trinkets from the outlying district, and…and they're finished writing in a minute."

Edie pressed her lips together. "Because they're all writing to family, aren't they? That's the difference."

The captain nodded.

"If you don't want to talk about it…" She moved a little closer, putting her hand on his back. She rubbed gently. "Captain, there's—Levi. You don't need to rush into conversations you don't want to have. Not on my account, at least."

"I thought about how to talk about this almost every night, falling asleep." His glassy gaze seemed to count the number of drops falling into a shallow puddle n the concrete. Shuddering, then still, then disturbed again. "No matter how the words fell apart, I wanted to tell you about it."

"Ink wasn't good enough for you?"

"No." He looked at her suddenly. "Not half as good."

They stared at one another for a while more, until thunder rattled the earth again. Both marveled at nature, and then returned to the puddle.

"I never knew my father," he began, "my mother never talked about him. Looking back, she worked in a brothel, so it might've been that even she didn't know. I have my suspicions, not that it matters. But I was just Levi, always just Levi. Wasn't until we came sun-side that last names meant anything. Now I'm the captain, and no one gives a damn that I don't have a last name. But my mother adamantly believed that it was safer to just be Levi, so that's what I was."

"That's familiar, too." Edie's hand stilled. "Selena knew who my father was, and my mother, but I didn't get a name for either. She said she'd tell me when I was older, but…I was never old enough." She laughed, for some reason. The noise came bubbling out. "I hated that there even was a secret, much less something as important as my parents, but now…it feels nice to know that someone wanted to protect me, early on. That they cared enough, even for a short time."

"I'm glad you had each other."

"Yeah."

Levi let out a long sigh and looked back at her, moving her drying hair over her shoulder. "I get closed off."

"You do." She gave him a quizzical look. "The Scouting stuff isn't easy, and I don't pretend it is. But if we're going to know each other, it has to be all of it, not just the parts that are pretty."

"A lot isn't."

"No kidding. I'm the same way."

"I know." He looked down, but not at his hands or the floor. "We understand each other."

The captain's palm slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, and after a moment's hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her. Edie closed her eyes, perfectly still, as a shot of lightning illuminated Ehmrich.

The accompanying thunder shook the sky, and Edie jolted away. The captain held her arm tighter, and she met his eyes again. An unexpected smile appeared. "You know, with this storm, I…I don't think I'll be able to get home for a while."

He stared back, softly yet intently. "No, I don't think you will."