chickn

“I simply do not understand… we were talking so well and all of a sudden—!”

“You called her stupid.”

“And naive,” Hange added after Erwin, almost tired, while taking a messy sip from his tea, not bothering to raise his head properly.

Levi clicked his tongue, running a hand through his hair and almost tugging at it out of frustration. “I was just trying to tell her I was worried about her!”

“You’ve a very peculiar way of expressing your concerns,” Erwin remarked, raising one thick eyebrow at his friend's illogical actions. Unlike Hange, he raised his cup to his lips with elegant, measured movements.

“UGH!” Levi bent over the table where they should have been having a tactical meeting, but instead were having a catch-up moment as friends. His forehead hit the polished wood covered with glass, and he scoffed against the surface in frustration, fogging it up.

“You should have known,” Erwin said softly, shaking his head with closed eyes as if the outcome was easily predicted, like a palm reader foretelling your life. “When a woman asks you to repeat something, it’s not because she hasn’t heard you. It’s because she wants to see if you have the guts to say it to her face. That’s the precise moment you should buckle up, fold the imaginary paper where you wrote your speech, smile, and say, ‘nothing, honey.’”

Hange frowned deeply, even curling her lip in disdain. “Since when are you such an expert on how to keep a woman?”

The blond put down his tea and looked at the squad leader, almost offended. “Excuse me, I had a very long relationship with Marie before we broke up. I learned a trick or two.”

“Whatever, I fucked up and it’s all wasted now,” Levi said woebegone, his cheek resting on the surface and his eyes looking to the side, completely bereaved. He couldn’t complete a single sentence without clicking his tongue or sighing in resignation.

“Oi! Come on, shorty! You just have to go and apologise. Don’t be such a coward,” Hange tried to raise her friend’s spirits.

“Yeah… but give her a couple of days. Let her cool down a little bit,” Erwin added, fearing that Hange’s enthusiasm might cause Levi to make another mistake.

But perhaps waiting a couple of days became weeks. Between work and each time he tried to lock eyes with her, she either completely ignored his presence or didn’t seem particularly happy.

While it was still freezing cold, certain trees began to bud, and the sun warmed more than usual on some days. Early one morning, he saw her again, walking on the front sidewalk with five friends, each holding something from a nearby pastry shop. Her face had the softness and lethargic appearance of someone who had just woken up.

Clenching his teeth and with hopeful eyes, his body naturally straightened from his slouched position against a wall. He thought of taking one hand out of his pocket and waving at her casually, worried, and timid as he was that time on the boat.

“Good morning, Captain,” three youthful cadets passed by and bumped into him with suspicious dorkiness. Their rosy cheeks and shining eyes made Levi slightly uncomfortable.

He hadn’t even noticed them, and the loss of focus on his main objective made him turn back frantically to where he was looking. She was already gone.

“Morning,” he replied disinterestedly to the girls who still wore their training ground jackets with swords on their backs. Levi returned to his slouched position, head down. He quickly heard the little girls giggle enthusiastically, muttering among themselves as they hurried away, thinking they were far enough for him not to notice.

“Did you see how he looked at me?” one whispered. Levi grimaced uneasily; he knew better than anyone that at their age, having silly little crushes on higher-ups was normal. ‘What are you, 13? You should be worried if I looked at you like that.’

He sighed loudly. ‘What would it take for you to look at me like that?’

Not that he daydreamed of her being like them, but he wished for the enthusiasm. Sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, nervous chuckles, and rushed steps to tell a friend.

‘I can’t just keep spying on you from afar like a creep. I’ve run out of innocent excuses to pass by your workplace.’

“Well, it’s decided. On the 2nd of March, we leave again,” Erwin announced as he exited the building with signed papers.

‘I don’t want to die without having at least something with you.’

Such a simple thought. For a split second, which lasted days, he wondered if it was a sort of fetish he hadn’t added to his list. But as another nurse, with the same uniform and the same soft touch, stitched up a cut he got when he came back and looked up at him from his left side, he felt nothing.

It reminded him so much of when she had tricked him into getting a vaccine, but it had no power over him. With her, it was like he couldn’t get her face closer without fighting the overwhelming need to grab it and kiss her.

‘Once again, do I really need to tell you that I’m dying to have a single silly chance with you?’

Something that feels utterly humiliating, like apologizing or confessing, really fades into oblivion when you’re visiting cadets half your age who are either dying or won’t be able to live a standard life after walking beside you to near-certain death. Levi looked at his soldiers in immaculate rooms and whitish beds, their bodies and faces blending into the sheets as they were covered in bandages the same shade as the rest of the room.

“Did I do good, Captain?”

Levi’s eyes opened slightly wider as he came back from his mental storm. “Yes, you did great, soldier. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

He wondered, only sometimes, if his words really held any real power. But they always muffled cries of relief and pain.

‘I’m being a fucking coward, that’s what I am.’

As the family members arrived in the room or fell asleep, Levi left. ‘Even a kick in the ass pushes you forward.’

He took secure steps down the halls. It was very late, and there was no security that she might be in the staff area. Or perhaps there was; he had learned which days she was on duty. Was it a bit on the stalker side? Perhaps. But Levi took pride in knowing her and wished to know much more.

It was stupid, but he held on to that information. Sometimes he was miles away in his office doing paperwork late at night, looked up at the clock on the wall, noticed the time, and something clicked in his mind. He would check the calendar and worry. The huge hospital, empty corridors, or long hours of staying up helping women in labor or taking care of the ill. Perhaps returning home when the sun hadn’t completely risen yet. He was miles away, but he worried.

‘I just need to know… I need to know if she’s alright, if she’s safe.’

That had been the reason for this whole issue, but this time he was confident in solving it or at least trying to.

He pushed open the door to the staff area. The room was freezing, either because it was in the basement or because the heating budget was spent on the patients. He froze momentarily when her pitched scream and little jump echoed in the room.

“DEAR Shenna! You scared me!” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her chest to calm her heart and sighing loudly. She had a cardigan over her uniform and rubbed her arms to keep warm.

Her body was next to the stove where she was warming up a kettle, her frown haunting him across the room. She said nothing, only scoffed and kept silent.

‘This seemed ten times easier in my mind five seconds ago.’

He pushed the door closed with his body, giving serious thought to the words he was going to use.

“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you. That was just me bitching,” Levi said, raising a white flag in the mental no man’s land they held. It earned him a sidelong glance, but her body language showed she hadn’t completely given in. “Tch, what I am trying to say,” he scratched the back of his head, feeling the sensation of his undercut beneath his fingertips, “You’re not stupid, but you’re too nice, and assholes like him abuse that.”

This time she turned to him slightly, still folding her arms to hold in the warmth, looking tired. “I’m not naive. I know my boss can’t keep his hands to himself,” her voice was hushed, either because it was late or because she seemed exhausted. “But not all of us are Humanity’s strongest, held in such high esteem by the military. I could lose my job. He could make my life a living nightmare. Plus, I prefer he bothers me rather than the new girls who are too young and too impressionable. No, Captain, I’m not stupid.”

Levi wondered if his admiration was as palpable in his features as he felt it. ‘I’m not stupid,’ his mind repeated. ‘Yeah, you’re right. The stupid one is me.’

A young woman who held her own, whom he met having fun with her friends at a party, all of them keeping each other safe, who lived on her own. She wouldn’t have survived the Capital if she was stupid. Levi knew firsthand how those environments shaped you: either you blend with them or you break.

She sighed once again, “The last thing I need this week is to argue with you.”

It made him want to ask what else had happened, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Instead, he rose from his slouched position against the door, walked to the countertops next to her, and rested there.

“It’s fucking freezing here,” he said, hoping the little shaky fire from the stove would warm the air more.

“Yeah… I can’t feel my feet,” she replied. “You look good, though.” This time, she managed a side smile, perhaps too tired to smile fully.

Levi quickly assumed she was referring to his recent return. “Yeah, it was a shitty mess of an expedition, though.”

She hummed. “I heard. A lot of rain, I’m sorry.”

Levi shook his head, dismissing her apology as she held no responsibility. “Tch… about your boss, someone should put him in his place.”

Her eyes rolled as she chuckled. “Who is going to do it? The MPs who go to men-only parties with him?” she joked, though her words carried no humour.

Levi, unable to stop looking at her face, said, “I could cut his balls off for a modest price.”

She giggled, tilting her head to the side and biting her bottom lip to suppress her chuckles. But he felt his chest warm up. ‘Holy shit,’ he thought, feeling pride at making her laugh genuinely for the first time. ‘I wish I knew another fucking joke to pull off.’

“You’ll go to jail if you do that,” she replied, entertained. As the conversation flowed easily, her sleepiness slipped away. “You’ll go to jail, and Erwin will kill me for losing his best soldier.”

“No, I’m the stupid military board’s favourite, didn’t you say that? They’re too scared because I’m the only one who could kill the titans if they break another wall. I’ll just pull off a shitty excuse,” he replied, bending slightly forward and closing the space between them.

“And your excuse, Captain?”

The way his title rolled off her tongue, it was just not holy what it created in his system.

“He’s fucking tall… maybe I confused him with a weird titan who has balls… or should I say had?”

This time she laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she showed her teeth. She tried to cover it with her left hand, and Levi was tempted to hold it down so he could still see her laugh.

The little slap of her hand against his arm caught him off guard. It didn’t hurt, but the proximity surprised him. “Stop it, you’re going to get me punished. This is a hospital; we should keep quiet,” she whispered.

She was so close, both bending forward. ‘Maybe I should just fucking go for it. Go big or go home,’ he thought. But she straightened up, pushing the sleeve of her cardigan further into her hand to use it to grab the kettle that was already whistling.

Back to being slouched against the countertop, he lost his chance. Hands in pockets, he couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to the cup with the tea ready for her to pour the water.

“You want one?” she asked, and Levi tried to hide the fact that he was mesmerised by the way her hips moved in the skirt. He just nodded. “So, what’s your modest price, Captain?”

“Huh?” The question confused him, as his mind couldn’t think of two things at once. He tried to remember his own words while thinking that she had the best ass inside the walls. Men’s brains have limitations.

“You said,” she began, pulling another cup out of the cupboard and filling it with water, “that you would do it for a modest price. What’s your modest price?”

His brain was still recovering from seeing her laugh next to him about a joke he made, the cute little swing of her uniform as she walked, her cheeky smile as she looked at him. It was hard to come back from that and reply as he usually would. No actual thoughts, no consequences.

“You going out on a date with me.”

On the other hand, your clothes are the only thing that you can be physically separated from. The risk from bringing strange garments to the island far outweighed the small comfort they would bring you, and so you were outvoted in your request to bring them with you. Zeke kept them, somewhere under the floorboards, or wrapped in darkness at the end of an old closet, or in between the house’s foundations.

Eventually moths would eat away at them, your face would change into something your family has never seen. But your name would remain constant, a brilliant flare for those that knew you in the before.

So yes, being called the girl miffs you a little bit.

“I’m afraid we can't do that,” Yelena says, keeping up the pretense that being separated from you is detrimental to the volunteers.

“No, no, we insist!” Hange says with a smile, and you’re not the only one that notices a slight edge to their voice. “I can only imagine her merit, given it was you who insisted on waiting for her at the beach.”

With their cheery smile, Hange manages to bring attention to the fact that you were important to the volunteers, while also indirectly stating your status as a perceived pawn. Levi is less discreet with his facial expressions. He has been glaring at Yelena ever since she started singing praises about Zeke. It's cold, quiet, and could be easily passed off as being part of Levi’s general distrust of strangers, even his resting annoyed face, but it stems from something much more personal, given her ties to Zeke.

“As her guardian, it would be unbecoming of me to abandon her so soon after our journey,” Yelena says.

“Guardian?” Hange asks, turning to you. “Were your parents victims of Marley too?”

“They’re… not around,” you say. “Anymore.”

You don’t confirm nor deny the causes of your family’s absence. In a way, it was you that was taken by Marley, not the other way around. It felt as if the universe was playing a big joke on you, stripping you of your family, bringing you to an unfamiliar territory, loading your back with the burden of knowing. You are well on the road to becoming a shonen protagonist, and hopefully one who got what they wanted in the end.

“So you see,” Yelena says, “I couldn’t possibly leave her to fend for herself.”

“What they were trying to say,” Levi says, toeing the line between interrupting and being patient, “is that she would be much more comfortable were she to comply.”

The unspoken threat and implied future whereabouts of the Volunteers hangs in the air. You know Yelena is letting it simmer for a moment, before she inevitably agrees. She and Onyankopon share glances, discussing something that has already been decided.

The plays that are now being created in the chess board have been scrutinized already, chances and paths to the end have already been calculated, and most if not all valuable players have already been scouted. Both Yelena and Onyankopon have very different ideas of what the endgame entails, but the road to getting there is similar in both iterations.

“You can’t fault my faction for being cautious. We trust your people to take our plans and transform them for the betterment of the island, but Y/n is a special case. I trust you understand, given your own young charges.”

Yelena places her teacup on the table, reveling in the unobstructed march of the circumstances she has weaved. This woman knows the strands and how to thread them, and her strengths lie there and in her almost complete view of the full tapestry.

“I would like to request that she is free to seek us out, should she wish to.”

“She’ll be escorted,” Levi counters. “One on one rendezvous will not be permitted.”

“I expect nothing less. We look forward to working with you, for the betterment of the nation of Paradis. Please make sure to opt in sooner rather than later, as it would be a shame to not share the plans we carefully designed before arriving.”

Yelena smiles that unsettling grin of hers and a deal is struck. She and Onyankopon rise from their seats, and you, Hange and Levi accompany them just outside the tent flaps. Onyankopon turns to you, putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing in a comforting fashion.

“It won't be long, okay?” he says. You've only known him properly for a day, which most of it was spent separately, him on the deck as a soldier, you hidden away with the cargo. But you assume he must feel some sort of responsibility towards you, someone young whom he must leave with strangers in order to ensure the help they are offering is accepted. You nod as he retreats, giving Yelena space to approach you.

And you understand his worries and his concerns, and you know they are well founded even if they aren't exactly accurate. If what Eren told you and if Hange’s and Levi’s reaction is of any indication, then you have some sort of tentative immunity in the eyes of Paradis.

The question is, what does the island’s government expect in return? How far does Eren’s knowledge of you extend? How much has he shared?

You are taken by surprise when Yelena pulls you into a hug, dwarfing your figure with her thin frame. You hesitantly return the gesture, and put your arms around her. If Zeke’s hug felt secure and grounded, hers feels suffocating and cold.

Your head starts to hurt again, and you squeeze your eyes shut so your brain has one less sense to process. It helps somewhat, and only adds onto your guardian–charge charade with Yelena.

“Stay focused,” she murmurs in your ear, before pulling away. “I’ll see you soon” is her final farewell, and she and Onyankopon are taken away by other Scouts, about to be reunited with the other Volunteers and unfortunate soldiers.

You look at their retreating figures when Levi’s gruff voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Get inside,” he says. “It's almost dawn, and you need to report to us before the brats arrive.”

You mouth brats? while you follow them inside, grunting when Hange decides to tackle you gently, putting their arm around your shoulders.

“I'm sorry we didn’t ask you directly,” Hange starts chirping, their voice moving faster than their mouth. “We didn’t know you would arrive so soon, and less so with people from the other side of the sea…”

Their voice trails off as they stare at you expectantly, making you squirm. Their half hug is nice though. Comforting and full of energy you seem to be quickly depleting from.

“Get off the kid, Four eyes,” Levi says, taking a seat and bringing his cup, holding it by the rim. “We need her report.”

“Oh!” Hange exclaims. “Of course! Come on, come on, take a seat–”

They lead you to the middle chair, and you sit down in front of the pair, not quite knowing what to expect. You need to report to us versus we need your report. Something you are required to do versus something they are looking for. Choices in spoken words often talk louder than the voices expressing them, so you hope this is a spark of future mutual trust.

They ask you to confirm Yelena’s plan and you recite back the small spiel in its entirety. Specific questions are posed and you answer them to the best of your ability, still carefully abiding only by the limited information brought forward by Yelena. You purposely stutter on some, if only to keep your cards close to your chest. Nonetheless, sometimes you trip over your words truly just because you’re nervous.

“And what's in it for you?” Levi asks. Hange makes a move to scold him for his lack of tact, but you wave off their concerns.

“I want the same as you,” you say. “The island’s safety.”

“And why you?” he presses.

That throws you in for a loop. Their questions made it seem like they knew something was up with you, but now you don't know if they’re referring to why you, as in why you a teenager, or why you as in what tools you have at your disposal that made you the ideal asset.

“Didn’t Eren already tell you?” you ask, because it's better to fall short of the question than to reveal extra information that will surely make its way to their higher ups.

Levi narrows his eyes. “So you know.”

“I met him at the beach, just when I got off the ship,” you confirm. “We didn't talk for long, but he told me to tell you my name. I assume that's because you already know about me?”

“Right on!” Hange says. “Eren hasn’t spilled a whole lot, but it was enough to convince us that you were someone who wanted to do right by Paradis.” They finish off their explanation with a grin, and you revel in the way it calms you down. Even Levi, who plays the bad cop in the interrogation, is surprisingly not as antagonistic as you expected him to be.

“I do,” you say. “I know you have no basis to trust me but a few words, but I really do just want to help. And i understand if you want to keep me at arms length–”

“Don’t be silly,” Hange says. “You’re our ally now! And you didn’t hear it from me but there's no reason to be worried for your guardians–”

“Hange,” Levi says, warning in his tone.

“Anyway! I’m sure it would be better for you to stick close to Levi’s squad while we figure out where to place you.”

“Levi’s squad?” you ask.

You whip your head towards the front of the tent when chatter is heard from outside, growing louder and louder, footsteps accompanying them as they approach the entrance. You distinguish teenage voices overlapping the others, seemingly discussing, constantly one upping the others’ contributions. Your heart leaps out of your chest as a hand reaches under the entrance flap and opens it, letting in the soft light of the early morning.

Six teenagers dressed in Scout uniforms come inside the tent, some more apprehensive than others. Jean Kirstein and Connie Springer –if they’re anything like their animated counterparts– decidedly don’t trust you, but their distrust for Yelena is bigger. Sasha Braus looks like she'd rather be snoring on a cot than gawking at you and Mikasa Ackerman is doing her best to prevent her from falling asleep, even if the girl is starting to look more awake.

Mikasa is also pointedly standing in front of Armin and Eren, shielding them as much from your line of sight as she can. You don't take it personally; you know they're her family and you're someone who could pose a threat to them. Still, it is kinda funny. Those two, being the only titan shifters on the island, are probably the ones who should be doing the protecting. But instead, Mikasa takes on that role, and you can't help but admire her for it.

Armin Artlet is looking at you half in awe, half analyzing you. You remember he always advocated for peace, for hearing out the unexpected allies they encountered, and for trying to find a middle ground in the midst of bloodshed and uncertainty. For someone with the tallest and most disastrous titan, he sure does look smaller in real life. His blond hair is still styled into that bob though, and you marvel at how the trio's hairstyles are somewhat similar at this point in time.

Finally, Eren is the last person to set foot inside the tent. Technically, you've already met him, even if you only exchanged ten stilled sentences at the beach. He is the only one that is not the least bit apprehensive of you. Now though, with the light of the day and the lantern combined, you can distinguish bags under his eyes and a strange tension on his shoulders. If you looked in a mirror, you think then maybe you’d see similar attributes in yourself.

“Who’s this?” Jean asks when the group approaches you.

“Y/n,” you say, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you…?”

“Jean Kirstein,” he says, shaking it. “No last name?”

“Oh, it’s…” you trail off.

Many times you have dealt with slow wifi in your world, where computers suddenly forgot they were supposed to be fast and innovative technology, and instead took ages to process or retrieve information. Your brain seems similarly frozen, and you start to panic when you can’t reach the information you seek. You'd have better luck digging a hole in shifting sands with only your hands as tools, than remember it.

It feels like when you are running in a dream, where you sprint as fast as you can, and yet there are invisible ropes holding you back, tying your wrists, your torso, and the air around you feels like jelly, preventing your every move.

The panic and hesitation must show in your vacant gaze when you are too preoccupied with remembering, because Jean awkwardly clears his throat and looks at Levi.

“Where do we take her, sir?” Jean asks.

“I don’t know, show her around. Show her the facilities and don’t cause a commotion or you can expect extra drills extra early. Looking at you, Braus.”

The girl in question splutters, flailing her arms around in defense. Connie snorts and punches her lightly on the arm as they exit the tent. Armin flanks you as you follow the duo outside, eager to know more information on the outside world. Mikasa lags behind for a moment as Levi tells her something, but she joins the group soon enough.

“You said your name was Y/n, right?” Armin asks and you nod. “Do you really come from the other side of the sea? What’s it like?”

“Uh, I dunno? There’s people, buildings, cars…”

“Cars? Do you mean carts?” Connie asks.

“Kinda, but with no horses to pull them. I think it has something to do with pistons and ignition?”

Armin’s eyes get impossibly bigger, impossibly brighter. His face is pulled into an awed expression, and it makes you want to sit down with him and explain everything the new world has to offer. Besides the –you know– animosity towards their race.

“Do you know about the fields of ice? Or the fiery waters?” Armin continues.

“Not personally,” you say. “I’ve never gone to a volcano or frozen plains, but I’ve seen them in photographs.”

“Like Eren’s dad’s picture,” Mikasa says when Sasha pulls a confused expression.

You find yourself nodding. “Yeah, that one.”

Jean narrows his eyes. “You know about that?”

“Uh–”

You messed up. The trouble you have remembering your last name (what the hell, what the hell, what the hell), and the unexpected introduction with the main cast, as well as the lack of proper sleep hits you over the head. You hastily catch Eren’s eye, wordlessly asking him what you should answer. What you’re allowed to answer.

He simply shrugs. “I told you guys she knew things.”

“Oh! Are you also a shifter?” Sasha asks. “Do you get those memory thingies too?”

“I can’t– I’m not,” you quickly amend, “a titan.”

“Bummer.”

“Sasha!” Connie whispers.

“What?”

You chuckle awkwardly trying to diffuse the tension as you walk. They point out various structures, most of them tents. There's the field canteen, the lavatories, the grounds and the tent barracks. “It's fine,” you say after a moment. “It would be easier to explain if I were a shifter.”

“What are you then?” Connie asks.

I’m just someone who likes stories is what you want to say, but you know that will only serve to confuse them further. You quickly go through a list of possibilities that include lying about having royal blood, lying about your parents being shifters, or lying about being part of experiments. The first one can be easily disproved by anyone with eyes, the second is not something that makes a lot of sense, and the third one is just plain reaching.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Eren says, not missing a beat while you’re weaving a lie. “She’s the key to whatever locked up memories I have. I don’t think it's a coincidence I remembered one yesterday, just before the ship arrived.”

“I don’t understand it myself fully yet,” you say, falling into a rhythm with Eren’s explanation. “I just know things I shouldn’t. That's how I knew to find Zeke, and to come to the island.”

The mention of Zeke’s name brings forward a slight tension in everyone’s shoulders, and they exchange glances, as if only just remembering you were someone who was allied with an old enemy.

“You’re with the tall woman then?” Jean asks.

“Officially yeah,” you say. “But Yelena’s always creeped me out.”

“But you’re on their side, is what I'm saying.”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “My… future memories, if you can call them that, have shown me primarily what has happened here. You’re welcome to believe me or not, but I do feel a sense of duty to you all.” If they notice how you changed the island for you all they do not mention it.

“I trust her,” Eren says, breaking the silence.

“We know,” Jean says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve made that very clear.”

Eren shrugs, and you all stop walking on the edge of the tent barracks. Everyone but Mikasa is on cleaning duty for the morning, given she was the one to win some kind of training game the day before. So they send you off with her to the barracks, where you are promised a cot and time to digest everything. You wave at them, and they promise to come back to escort you to the canteen when you wake up.

Mikasa starts walking to the far left, checking behind her once to ensure you are following her. You jog after her until you reach her, and you fall into an uneasy step next to the girl. Birds fill the early morning air with their chirps, occasionally flying from tree to tree when you get too close to one in your path.

“I don’t know if I should trust you,” she says after a while, and you flinch, expecting her sentiments all the same.

“But I trust Eren,” she continues, “and he trusts you. Armin thinks you are allies that will help the island, but not all of us are as optimistic.”

“I get it,” you say, giving her a small smile. “I know what happened, so I get it, really. I don't expect you all to trust me so quickly either.”

“Don’t let him down.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “Nor will I let you down, if you'll let me.”

She stops in front of a small tent sandwiched between others. You see two cots when you walk in, parallel to each other. There are a few personal items on the one directly to your left, while the right is bare with the only exception of thin sheets and a thin blanket.

“That one’s yours,” Mikasa says, pointing to the one on the right. “I’ll be back in a while to check in on you. Don’t leave without someone from the squad.”

“Okay. See you later?”

Mikasa nods and leaves, leaving behind a slight breeze from where she opened the tent. You step closer to your cot, dropping your satchel at one of its legs. You only had water and a little bit of rations left on it, so you were allowed to keep it. It rattles as it hits the floor, but you’re too preoccupied with finally laying down to properly care.

You groan in satisfaction when your tense back hits the fabric of the cot. It's not the most comfortable place you’ve slept on recently, but it is a welcome luxury after spending more that twenty four hours on the cold floor of a ship’s cargo hold, so it's really no surprise when your eyes close the moment your head touches the pillow.

The first part of your plan, arriving to Paradis, is completed. The second, earning everyone's trust, is going better than expected, thanks to the curveball that was Eren’s knowledge of you. So you let your consciousness rest for a moment, going to sleep in between flashes of stars.

taglist:

@dressycobra7 @xngelsau @bloodchapell @i-think-im-adorable13 @luna4mnoon

@yuuuumii @kermittears @binluvsu

ask or comment to be added!

Working four 12 hour days in a row can be tiring, but it’s worth it most of the time for the following four days off that you’re able to get. Four days off of freedom—which usually means catching up on errands. Laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning.

It’s just you now, so things tend to pile up much more quickly.

As you feel the rumble of movement beneath you, the momentum causing you to sway a little in your seat, you stare unblinking at the opposite window. Flashes of advertisements and thick concrete tunnel walls speed by in a blur, and you allow your mind to wander.

Maybe you could go to that new cafe in the morning that opened up on College Street. It’s been a while since you’ve taken a moment just for yourself. Or maybe you could take a book to the park after cleaning your apartment. The weather was supposed to be nice, and that used to be your favorite thing to do before…

The train slows to a stop before you continue down that line of thinking. With a droning chime, the doors open to signal would-be passengers to either depart or climb aboard.

A pleasant female voice erupts from the intercom system. “This is Freedom Park Station. Please stand clear of the doors.”

It’s not unheard of for others to be out so late, particularly on a Friday night, so to see a man walk aboard doesn’t immediately surprise you.

What does cause you to do a double take is the state of him.

The first thing you see is the insignia of the wings of freedom, a symbol you immediately recognize on the back of the green cloak covering his upper half from one of your favorite shows, Attack on Titan.

The second thing you notice is that he’s soaked.

That’s odd. You don’t remember it raining earlier in the day, but it could have been a brief downpour in another part of the city. And he’s clearly coming from an anime convention. Those were usually held at the convention center on the other side of the city.

The man heavily slumps forward against the railing. His back is turned toward you, but you watch him thoughtfully, admiring the impressive handiwork of his costume. From under the cloak, you see the intricately wrapped belts of the omni-directional gear, as well as the boxes along his thighs that are used in the show to store blades. When you see a reflection of an advertisement briefly glimmer off of the surface, you realize that they’re actually metal.

Those must be heavy. Did he make them himself?

The train begins to move again and your thoughts are stopped short when the man stumbles, nearly falling. That’s when he turns and you notice the blood.

His face is covered in it.

You’re on your feet before you even realize it. “Excuse me.”

He turns at the sound of your voice and you see the source: a rough cut just above his right eyebrow.

The man sways unsteadily on his feet against the movement of the train. The look he gives you is immediately distrusting, but he doesn’t back away.

You stop a few feet from him. “Sir, are you okay?” When his eyes narrow, you point to the badge pinned to your work scrubs. “I’m a nurse, see?”

You wait as his eyes study your hospital badge for a moment.

“Where the hell am I?”

Okay, that’s potentially a cause for concern. “Uh.” You try to remember what stop he got on from. “Freedom Park.” The look on his face doesn’t resemble recognition. “You’re not from around here?”

For a moment, he seems to think. “No.”

There’s a sharp jolt from the train car and you both sway a little, him more than you.

You gesture to the empty seat next to him. “Here. You should probably sit down.”

He doesn’t argue as he takes a seat.

Looking him over, you consider your options. It isn’t too late to take him back to the hospital, but you don’t exactly want to after spending the entire day there already. From the looks of it, it doesn’t look like he’ll need stitches, but it doesn’t feel right to leave him alone in the state he’s in either.

“Can you tell me what happened?” you ask.

The man looks around for a moment. The look on his face turns apprehensive. “I don’t remember. There was a flash… and then I just woke up here.”

You raise your brows. Something about the way he says it feels like he isn’t being completely honest, but you suppose the bleeding itself is a more pressing concern right now anyway.

“Okay,” you say. “Well, that cut doesn’t look too deep, but you should get it cleaned.” You pause for a moment, debating. “My apartment is at the next stop.”

You had meant it as a suggestion, but the man doesn’t seem to follow.

“I can look at it for you,” you add. “Maybe help you find wherever you were supposed to stay.”

He seems to consider it for a long moment, looking from you to around the empty train car and then back to your badge.

“Alright,” he says as the train begins to slow. When it comes to a stop and the doors open with their loud hydraulic hiss, he follows you back out onto the platform.

It’s quiet for most of the walk back. You go through the motions of exiting the station—swiping your pass and leading the way up the winding corridors to street level while the man follows, watching your movements and your surroundings with a puzzled sort of awe.

It isn’t until you’re pulling out the keys to your place before you turn to him again.

“So, what’s your name?”

He gives you a subdued look. “Levi.”

You smile.

“No, really…” you press, looking over his clothes again. It’s obvious that’s what he’s going for now that you see him up close—the scout uniform and the way he’s styled his hair. Come to think of it, he has Levi’s frame as well. And his eyes.

It’s a damn good cosplay actually. If Levi Ackerman were to magically come out of the television screen as a flesh and blood person, he’d look exactly like this guy.

But judging by his expression and the complete lack of response, he isn’t interested in giving you any sort of real information.

You turn then, your smile dropping, and lead the way into the apartment building. “O-kay.”

It’s possible, you guess, that his name really is Levi. Just a very bizarre coincidence that he happens to look and act exactly like your favorite character from an anime and also likes the anime as well. There are billions of people in the world though. Stranger things happen all the time.

Reluctant to piss him off further, the rest of the walk up to the second floor is done in more silence. You unlock your front door and lead the way inside, smiling when you hear the telltale trill of your cat greeting you at the door.

“Hello, Luna,” you greet, bending down to run your hand between the shorthair’s ears. She pushes herself up into your hand a little further with a chirp.

Still at the door, the man—Levi—watches.

“Luna?” he asks in a flat tone.

You straighten back up, noting his hesitancy to walk forward. “You’re not allergic, are you?” That would be some cosmic bad luck on his part to deal with a head wound and an allergic reaction in one night.

But thankfully, he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s affectionate but she’s harmless,” you say, sidestepping around your cat to walk further into your living room. When Levi joins you, you gesture to the sofa. “Have a seat there. I’ll be right back with some supplies.”

You don’t wait around to see if he does what you say, instead dipping down the hall toward a small office. It’s mostly just a place for all of your trinkets—a desk filled with a few figures and a computer. Some bookshelves line the walls, collecting dust. It’s been months since you’ve picked up a good book or did much of anything in this room, really. But you know exactly where to look for the supply kits you’ve managed to stock up on from the hospital.

After you find the suture thread and some wound wash, you grab a towel from the bathroom next door and return to the living room.

Levi is there, sitting on the edge of the sofa as if he’s afraid to get comfortable. His gaze keeps jumping around the room, taking in the layout and decor, and his fists rest stiffly on his knees. Luna is next to him, tentatively sniffing at his knuckles with a curious stretch of her neck.

You shoo her away gently and take her place on the sofa. The angle of light allows you to see the source of the drying blood on his face a bit better.

Quietly, you look him over. “How are you feeling?”

He watches as you slip on a pair of gloves. “I’ve had worse.”

You snort lightly and begin to prep the fresh towel with wound wash.

“Do you have stuff like this happen to you often?” you ask, now reaching to press the towel to his face.

At your question, he pulls his one uncovered eye from you, surveying the room again. “Nothing quite like this.”

“What happened?”

Levi is quiet for a moment before he says, “It was nothing. I fell.”

You pause your movements, frowning. “This doesn’t look like the kind of cut you’d get from a fall.”

“Why does it matter?”

Judging by his defensive tone, he knows more than he’s letting on, but you can’t figure out why he isn’t being honest.

But with him already in your apartment, you don’t want to do anything to unnecessarily antagonize him. Even in his current state, he looks strong and capable enough to hurt you.

Probably best to just change the subject.

“Did you have somewhere you were staying?” you ask, returning to your task.

You gently dab the towel down the curve of his jaw and feel the muscle tense beneath your touch.

“No,” he finally says.

“You came all the way here for a convention and didn’t book a hotel?”

“A convention?”

“Yeah,” you nod, gesturing to his clothes. “You’re a scout, right?”

At your words, his expression becomes a bit more relieved. He nods. “Yes. I got onto that... train thing because I hoped it might take me to headquarters.”

You blink as you listen to him. Did he hit his head hard enough for him to think that he is Levi Ackerman?

Maybe you should take him to the hospital anyway just to get him checked out. He seems perfectly lucid otherwise though, if a bit confused.

You reach forward and check his head wound again. Just like you thought, it’s too shallow to need stitches and isn’t bleeding anymore, so that’s a good sign. Maybe it could wait until morning.

“Do you feel sick?” you ask, searching his expression for any lack of focus or disorientation but find none. “Nauseated? Dizzy?”

“Other than the stabbing pain above my eye?” he deadpans, glaring at you. “No. I feel fine.”

You sigh. This is insane, considering letting a complete stranger stay in your apartment. But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go and he’s still soaking wet. You’d feel guilty if you just let him go and he got into trouble. At the very least, you could make sure he has somewhere to sleep. 

You get to your feet and look over his clothes once more. “You can stay here tonight if you’d like. I think I might have some old clothes you can sleep in, and there’s a shower down the hall.”

He gives you a distrustful look. “You’re putting a lot of faith in a stranger.”

You raise a brow. “I guess we both are. But if you’d rather sleep out in the cold, then be my guest.”

That seems to give him pause, and he looks around the room once more.

“Where did you say the shower was?”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” you tell him. “I can get you a towel and some clothes.”

You dispose quickly of the bloodied towel in your kitchen trash along with your gloves and turn back down the hall again. When you return, Levi is standing awkwardly next to your sofa. He seems to be pointedly ignoring Luna, who is still curiously sniffing him from the armrest.

“These should fit,” you tell him, patting the folded up sweatpants and an oversized shirt tucked beneath your arm. “Just leave your things in the bathroom and I’ll make sure your clothes are washed in the morning.”

He takes the items from you with another skeptical glance. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I have to do laundry anyway,” you wave him off. “It’s no trouble.” Quickly, you point at him. “Just don’t scrub at that cut. You’ll just make it bleed again.”

He doesn’t move immediately when you back away to let him pass by, but the promise of a hot shower seems to eventually override whatever keeps him fixed in place. Without another word, he retreats down the hall, right to the second door on the left like you told him.

What a strange man.

It takes fifteen minutes before you hear the shower turn on.

In that time, you busy yourself with finding a spare blanket and a pillow and leave them on the sofa. You tidy up a little next, grabbing leftover drinking glasses off the table and discarded socks that had been pushed under the coffee table. It isn’t much, but you’re left feeling slightly less anxious about the state of your place by the time you’re finished. You like to keep things tidy to begin with, but the place certainly looks lived in right now.

Curious, you sink into a chair and pull out your phone while you’re waiting and click on the search engine, quickly typing in a few keywords to check on any local anime conventions happening in the area.

There are no ongoing events, and the next one isn’t happening until six months from now.

Well, that eliminates your theory. So then what the hell was he doing cosplaying on the street on a random Friday? If he was with someone, he wouldn’t have been wandering around alone and he said he wasn’t staying anywhere in the area.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is some sort of trap to lure unsuspecting women into vulnerable positions, preying on a person’s compassion. But then, that was very real blood on his face and a very real wound, and he has had ample opportunities to attack and rob you if that was truly what he was after. He might look intimidating, but there’s nothing about him that screams that you’re in any sort of immediate danger either.

Maybe you can get some real answers out of him in the morning when he’s less grumpy.

You’re feeding Luna in the kitchen when Levi reappears.

With silent relief, you note that his wound seems to still be fine. He looks healthier in general after cleaning off, but he also looks… well, even more like Levi Ackerman. It’s kind of uncanny.

“What?”

You jump when you hear his voice. He’s watching you from the living room, looking about as confused as you feel.

Shit, have you been staring? “Nothing.” You sigh and rub at your eyes. It’s been too long of a day to start questioning your sanity. “Are you hungry or anything? I have some leftovers I can heat up really quick.”

“I’m fine.” He shakes his head and turns his attention to the blanket and pillow on the sofa. 

Carefully, he arranges it how he likes and sits down. He glances at the television on the other side of the room before looking around again, lingering at times on things like the lamps in the corners and over to the open kitchen.

His hands fidget in his lap.

“I’ll be out of here first thing in the morning.”

The sound of his voice surprises you.

“Where are you going to go?”

He shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. He’s a grown man, so it shouldn’t concern you what he does. But his comments about not being from here, and the whole thing about him trying to find ‘headquarters’? You’d feel better knowing there isn’t anything you’ve missed.

“At least let me take you to the hospital to get that cut checked out,” you suggest. “We can go first thing while your clothes are drying.”

He scoffs but the sound is entirely devoid of humor. “I told you I’m fine.”

“So it’ll be a quick visit and you can be on your way in no time,” you reply. “One of the doctors I work with can look you over before we open. He won’t mind.”

“Or I could just leave in the middle of the night.”

“I guess.” You shrug. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you, but that’s your choice. My conscience can be clear as long as I’ve offered to help you. I can’t make you take it, but I think it’s a good idea.”

He glares at you from the sofa, but doesn’t reply.

You get the sense that he doesn’t want to be bothered anymore. With the night he’s had, he probably just wants some rest, and you’re more than willing to get some sleep yourself.

Now that the shock of the night has worn off a bit, your body feels heavy as you get to your feet.

Levi stays quiet as you move around the room, shutting off lights and locking your front door. He moves to lay down once he gathers what you’re doing.

“I’ll get you up in the morning,” you tell him from the hallway. “Get some sleep.”

That earns you little more than a grunt of acknowledgement.

When you get into your room, you make sure to lock the door and find a baseball bat from the depths of your closet to sit by your bed. You’ve always been a light sleeper, so you hope that you’ll be able to hear if he decides to try anything.

You go through your nightly routine and climb into bed, then send off a text before closing your eyes—a message to one of your friends and fellow co-workers at the hospital.

Hey, could you do me a huge favor tomorrow morning? It’ll be quick.