Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He can’t remember when the headaches started, just that they got a lot worse after that conversation.

If he’s honest, he’s been feeling rough for days. His brain is a ticking clock. A countdown. Stress, probably. And he has reason to be stressed.

“They are people, why does no one give a fuck? You’d think we’d -“ He stands, paces, wants to tug on his cravat - too tight, too hot - he keeps his composure, stifled. “You’d think we’d just figured out they shit, or sleep, or something. They’re people. All this time we’ve been…”

That kid - the Springer kid - his mother had burst through the walls of their home. Her ribs splintered on ceiling beams. 

“They were people, Levi. They are not anymore. Even if we can turn them back, how could we possibly have done that when we didn’t know? When everyone’s lives were on the line? We had to protect ourselves, and we can’t get caught up in the past when we didn’t know.” Hange says. Their voice is grating. The tone - the compressed excitement at the new discovery - it’s giving Levi a headache. No, he’s had the headache for days now. Weeks. It’s making the headache worse. He wants to dunk his face in a bucket of ice water. 

“You’ve been overworking yourself.” Hange says with a sigh. “I guess you haven’t been sleeping again? You’re acting…weird.”

“Yeah, you’d know all about that.” He says, can’t muster humor, can’t muster anything in the face of their pragmatism. He’s been killing humans for five years and no one is even going to blame him for it. 

He hasn’t been sleeping. How could he? There’s so much fucking work to do. Everything has changed. At least there’s no hole that needs plugging, this time. 

He would like Hange to share his anguish, but perhaps they do. Perhaps they’ve got a better grasp on it. He needs to get a grip. He needs to get another, stronger grip. He feels frayed. He does loosen his cravat. 

“You need to rest. We can talk about this later, when you’re not as - “ Levi watches them with warning. They finish with “tired”.

His head buzzes. The strings strain, threatening to snap. 

“I’m going to see Erwin.” He says, marching towards the door. 

“Levi, don’t. He needs his rest too.”

“I’ll do what I like.”

“He’s going to recover,” Hange says, high and a bit hysterical, like they’re frustrated with him. Good. He’s frustrated with them. It seems like all he does these days is pick fights. “He’ll be fine, he just needs to be allowed to rest.”

Levi storms out, fingers twitching. He’s been staying at the hospital. Now Erwin is conscious it’s just easier, to ask him directly for his orders, rather than relaying it. Before he woke up, when they thought he might die, it made sense for Levi to be nearby, with Hange covering at HQ. It’s just convenient for him to be close. He knows the route to Erwin’s room. Each step shakes up his spine. His head pounds. He feels sick. He never gets sick, though, so he must just be tired. He’s just stretched thin at the moment. All this work. All those people he killed without a second thought. 

He stands outside Erwin’s door, stops with his hand against the wood, feels the throbbing in his temples abate slightly. Feels himself sway and then steady. He takes a deep breath. 

When they brought Erwin back, Levi made a scene. He admits that it was childish. Embarrassing, even. Thank god the recruits weren’t there to see it, he’d lose all credibility. There was a lot of blood. Erwin’s lips and face had been the same color. He doesn’t remember much, but he does remember demanding to know who’d allowed it, who’d been watching his back, or not watching his back as it turned out, who was stupid enough to forget to protect their fucking commander, their leader, their only fucking hope, who’s life is so much more valuable than theirs, disposable fucking foot soldiers, Levi’s not there for one expedition and everyone forgets how to do their fucking job, forgets the chain of command, the priorities that a damn kid could understand, useless, stupid cowards who almost cost them everything, almost cost them Erwin, almost - 

Anyway, Erwin lived. He lives still. There’s no need for this fear anymore. This choking panic when Levi can’t see him, when he stands outside his door not knowing if he’s alive on the other side or not. 

When he was healing, Levi didn’t sleep so much. Too much work. He used to do it in this room, small room, smelling of bleach, of Erwin’s blood. The lack of sleep drove him mad. He’d wanted to - fucking humiliating - wanted to curl up at the foot of Erwin’s bed, like the kicked puppy he used to be, snapping at anyone who came near, resting his heavy, aching head on Erwin’s legs, transferring him body heat. He’d had another mad vision - of him tearing off his own arm, stitching it onto Erwin’s shoulder, and sitting with him, bleeding, beginning to die himself, desperately teaching Erwin how to use his fingers, his wrists, the strength in his joints, how to twist just so to kill, how to grip a pen in his smaller hands and write with it. Erwin looking lopsided. Complete again. Completed by Levi. Mismatched. Cobbled together. Ridiculous. 

This thing, this pain, the headache, the sickness; it’s more than guilt. More than fear of the future. More than worry for his commander, his friend. It’s bone-deep. It’s been lying dormant. He tries to point to where it’s coming from - it feels like his chest, but maybe it’s deeper than that: not his heart, or his head, more like his guts. It’s in his organs. It’s his blood and his bile and viscera. It’s his skin. Maybe it’s all of him. And it’s making him feel insane. 

He sits outside Erwin’s door now, slipping down the wall, slumping by the frame. He knocks his head back against the bricks separating them. It’s cool. It soothes. The itching, the aching, is so persistent. So difficult to assuage. It goes against everything he’s made himself into. It’s damaging his shield. It’s fracturing the front he wears so well, wears so necessarily. 

He’s tired. They’re tired. He should let him rest.

Hange finds him later, sleeping, frowning, curled small, outside the Commander’s door. 

000

“Are you listening, Levi?”

He isn’t. He blinks himself back into the room.

“You found a location?” He guesses.

“Yes. In Rose. Plenty of distance away from big groups of people, should anything go… awry.” Hange says. The room is stuffy. It makes Levi feel like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. Eren’s green eyes stare at him, all full of hope and determination. 

Mike should be here, but he’s dead, as far as we can tell. Erwin should be here, but he’s…he’s alive. He’s just resting. He’s sleeping just down the street, in the hospital. We can tell him when he wakes up.

“Good. When are we going? Do we need to wait for approval?”

Hange grits their teeth, snaps the band of their goggles. 

“Not really; it’s an internal matter, after all! And besides, if we were to refer this upwards…”

“Eventually the King’s men would get hold of it, and they’d shut it down immediately. I get it. Fine. When?”

“There are a few things Erwin wants to discuss with Pixis, but after that he should give us the go-ahead.”

“Alright.” He fixes Eren with a stare. Eren’s back is straight. “You hear that, Jaeger? I’m gonna let them poke and prod you until we know how you work. You ok with that?”

He doesn’t really have a choice, but his expression is convincing Levi that he thinks he has a choice.

“Yes, sir. Whatever I can do to help.” So eager to please, even after all this time. He’s a hot-head, a brat, but he’s a good kid, really. He just wants to help. That’s fine by Levi, as long as he keeps his cool.

“Then what’s left to discuss?” He wants to go outside. He needs some fresh air. This cramped, stuffy room is making him twitch. It’s making his head hurt again. 

“Some potential tests, of course! My first thought was that, due to the boulder incident, Eren should be able to change the shape and size of his titan form at will, but in order to test that…”

There is a ringing in Levi’s head, behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut for a second, blinks the pain away, tries desperately to focus on Hange, but the room just seems to get hotter and hotter. He would like to leave. His body is telling him he needs to leave. He has a flash of panic that he’s going to vomit, or faint, or something. It is infuriating; this apparent lack of conscious control. He’s never faltered in that respect before.

“Are you alright?” Hange asks. Levi doesn’t know how long he was out of the conversation for. He blinks again, heavily, sluggishly. His stomach rolls around like a cart wheel. His temples throb.

“Yeah, yeah, I just…”

“You’re really pale, Levi. Are you sure you’re not sick?” They peer at him owlishly, with open concern. His vision swims.

“M’fine. I’m tired.”

“We can talk about this later. Like I said - we’re not going anywhere until Erwin’s spoken to Pixis. You should go get some rest.”

Rest is difficult. He hasn’t slept in two days. He hasn’t slept properly in weeks. Closing his eyes makes him feel like he’s falling, like he’s rolling down a hill in a barrel. He sees the usual onslaught of vile images, but they’re jumbled, absurd, and that’s somehow worse than the realistic dreams. He can’t sit still, but he’s also running out of energy. He wonders if he is sick.

“Fine. Fine. Whatever. You can carry on without me, and I’ll go get something to eat.” He stands, leans on the table, wills himself not to humiliate himself in front of the kid.

Ha. His hero, Humanity’s Strongest, fainting in a shitty little meeting room in Trost.

He keeps his cool, stays steady, convincing enough that Hange does nothing more than look after him, a little worried, as he leaves. Once the door is shut he sags against the wall of the corridor. 

Fuck. No use to anyone like this. He rubs his hand over his face, screws his eyes shut, curses under his breath.

Trost is still half-shambles, but there is a pretty impressive effort to rebuild going on. As Levi staggers outside, squinting in the sun, he can hear it happening around him; the work, the clearing away of destruction. This side of the city, the side with the military barracks and the hospital, was less affected thanks to the diversion tactics the Garrison employed. There is still this sense of renewal , though. Something growing from a grave. Out along the Northern borders of the walled city, there will still be bodies buried in the rubble, as of yet unrecovered.

The air does him a bit of good. He draws it in, drags it through his lungs, wills his headache away. It’s still warm, though. He will change into more comfortable clothes when he gets back to the hospital.

Once inside, he climbs two flights of stairs and then peels off down the corridor. The thumping is in the base of his skull now, less insistent, more mind-numbing. When he arrives at the door, he realizes it isn’t his.

Shit. Chasing my own tail. Can’t keep on like this, someone’s gonna notice…gonna get the wrong idea…

He relents. He turns the doorknob, insinuates himself into the room silently, closes the door behind him again.

Erwin’s asleep. Good. The curtains are half drawn. His skin is peachy. Or maybe it is just less-white than it has been previously. Levi watches his chest rise and fall from his spot near the door. He watches for what must be minutes, mimicking it with his own breathing. 

Someone has brought Erwin flowers. Levi wonders who - the nurses? Hange? Moblit? That kid in Ness’ old squad that thinks the sun shines out of his ass? Who knows. Either way, they’re dead now, wilting on the windowsill. Levi walks over, picks up the vase, takes the limp stems out, throws them in the trash. Then he leans back against the sill and observes his unconscious commander.

It’s peaceful in this room. Less stuffy than the other one. Levi hasn’t seen Erwin in a few days; he has been restraining himself. He isn’t even sure why. Erwin is his friend. He can visit his friend, if he wants. Just because Erwin needs his energy for his official duties doesn’t mean Levi shouldn’t check up on him.

Still this headache, though. It’s an insistent thudding at the back of his head, like something is chipping away at his brain. It makes it difficult to concentrate. It makes him break out in a sweat, even though he’s just standing there, doing nothing. There’s that taste again in his mouth - panic, terror, sickness. It’s driving him mad. It is driving him to Erwin.

He’s not stupid. He thinks he might be making himself sick with worry. Worry for what? Erwin is here; alive. He will recover. It is ridiculous that he’d worry over an alive man. It’s like his body doesn’t care for what his brian knows to be true.

But it is Erwin. Something about Erwin. It eases when he is with Erwin.

Maybe it would…Erwin stirs, the sheets ripple, the furrow of his brow deepens - maybe it would help if Levi were to touch him. It helps to be looking at him. It doesn’t go away but it…settles. It feels more controllable, more normal, when Levi can see him and watch him and be sure of him. Maybe touching Erwin would make it better. If he could - no, that’s stupid - he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, but in theory, touch and sight is more reliable than just sight. If he were to touch Erwin, maybe it would ease. He could…see the stump up close, the flesh of it, clamped closed around the shorn bone, he could maybe touch it, maybe put his hand on it and that would make his stupid body see it’s done, and it’s over now. He could sit beside Erwin, as he has in the past, in meetings or in carriages, in the back of carts, and slot his arm into the space Erwin’s left, his literal right-hand man, and that could maybe…soothe it a bit. Maybe it would drain the anxiety out, knowing that it was done, and Levi could sleep.

He could sleep against Erwin, maybe, with his head upon his shoulder, and then he would sleep better because his body would understand that Erwin was still alive, and not in danger, because he would feel him breathing, feel his warmth against him as he slept, feel his heart beating in Levi’s dreams, and so maybe he could actually get some rest that way. If he explained it to Erwin like this. If he made him understand that it’s the only way. If he did it by accident and begged for forgiveness afterwards, put his pride away for the sake of rest, and Erwin would forgive him, wouldn't he? For using him? For touching him and laying with him so that he can keep his sanity? Erwin is kind, despite appearances. He’d help Levi sleep if he knew he could, surely?

Levi tries to think of the last time he and Erwin touched, but he struggles. They don’t, really. Not at all. Levi does not like to be touched. Erwin is not a tender man. Levi stares at his remaining hand, limply resting by his side, over the bedsheets. Levi must have touched it before, by accident, without thinking - how did it feel? Did it make the pain go away? 

Half-delirious, he pictures it, pictures going across the room to Erwin’s bedside and touching his hand, bumping their fingers together, feeling living warmth and callouses from blades and pens. Just thinking about it makes the headache recede a little. He could… I don’t know, I could… he could take his pulse, like the doctors do; two fingers against the inside of Erwin’s wrist, where the skin is pale and fragile, and you can see the veins running up to his hand. He could feel his blood beating beneath, and then might be satisfied he is alive, and he might feel better. It would be steady. It might slow the pulsing in Levi’s head.

He could, while Erwin was dead asleep, like he is now, feel the bulk of his arm, lift it, press down on the muscle, check it is still as solid and strong as it has always been. He could check him all over. He could impress the shape of Erwin into his tangible memory. He could listen to his heart beating in his chest. He could lie down with him, next to him, and touch all of him at once, molding himself to the side of Erwin, covering himself with him, and then there would be no room for doubt. And then the headache would have to go, and the panic with it, because it would be overwhelming; so much skin, so much warmth he is stealing, that doesn’t belong to him and that he has no right to take, from his commander who he has taken so much from already.

He might even - he could close his eyes, yes, and block out sight, rely on touch alone - he would stay like that, wrapped in Erwin as he sleeps, until he was certain, until he drifted away himself, until he got some fucking peace. Just touch, but maybe smell, too - Erwin smells clean, usually, like his fancy hair product and his soap, like a Scout, still, though - like Levi’s purpose and his home, and that might be nice; to be able to smell Erwin himself instead of bleach and blood and this hospital room, and he would be touching him, too, and he would know it was Erwin without needing to look because he knows his smell, and the shape of him is familiar, even if he hasn’t touched him before, and maybe it would make him feel more insane, for a bit, but then he would get better, right? He would have to get better, because he would know, then, that Erwin lives and is safe, and that’s all that the pain really wants to know, Levi is figuring out. And he wouldn’t need to see, or think, he could just touch him a bit - a lot, as much as he needed, as much as he wanted - wants - and smell him, and taste him, perhaps, just a little, because he can hear and see and touch and smell him so it makes sense that tasting as well would also be better, and he could do that - he’s an Underground mutt, after all, at Erwin’s heels - he could touch him with his tongue, take some of him into his mouth, and then all senses would be certain, and it would make him feel better, he is sure of it. He could maybe…bite him. Just a bit. Not enough to wake him. He could press his nose against Erwin - his arm, his chest, his thigh, his neck, anywhere where the pulse is, anywhere where the warmth is - and he could open his mouth a bit, and close his teeth around some of his flesh, and taste him that way, and then he’d have had a bit of him on his tongue and in his mouth and that would obviously be better than just seeing, or hearing, or smelling, or touching - that’s more, that’s the most. He could eat him, maybe - would that help, to have him inside him, where there is nowhere else for him to go? Where he would have to stay, and be a part of Levi? He could unhinge his jaw and swallow him whole. Levi could open his mouth, hungry, dripping, brain-dead, and bite Erwin’s arm off. He could eat it. 

Levi’s forehead smacks against the bedframe. He has stumbled, unthinkingly, to the bed and fallen on unsteady legs. He has tripped before Erwin’s sleeping form and hit his head on Erwin’s sickbed. His head is swimming. The pain is blinding. His vision shifts and shimmers. His mouth is watering.

“Levi?” Erwin asks from above, confused, half-asleep. Levi’s strength appears to have deserted him. He can’t stand, can’t hear a damn thing, except his heartbeat in his head and the sound of Erwin stirring, sighing as he wakes, sitting upright. Levi looks up at him, at the obvious concern across his face, at the heaviness in his eyes as he wades out of the waters of unconsciousness.

“Are you alright?” 

“Mmn -” Levi tries to speak but his jaw is clamped shut against the pain. It feels like his head is splitting open. He barely even felt the actual hit.

“You’re bleeding.” Erwin says, and he reaches his hand over, and Levi can see that very clearly, in amongst the spinning, swimming room, and he touches Levi’s forehead, where he hit it. Levi makes a sound of - he can barely tell - relief? Agony? Pleasure? He isn’t sure. It’s just a sound. A sound he is pretty sure he has never made before. The room rights itself. It feels like Erwin is pouring cold water onto a burn. It feels like Erwin is lifting the pain from him, through a light brushing of fingers over his forehead.

“Levi, you’re hurt. What’s happened? Are you unwell?” He’s not the Commander yet. He’s still getting into uniform post-sleep. His fingers come away bloody and Levi’s pulse spikes, cries out, for a second until he realizes it is his blood, not Erwin’s.

“I just…I fell…I’m - “

“You don’t look well. Do you feel feverish? We should call a doctor.” Erwin swings his legs out of bed, sits before Levi where he doesn’t quite have the energy to stand. He’s taken his hands off Levi and Levi thinks he might be about to faint.

“When was the last time you slept? You ate? Can you stand?” Erwin asks, trying to get Levi to focus on him, but it’s like watching him through a waterfall, through fog, through gunpowder smoke. He hears what he’s saying but Levi’s head is empty. He grapples for his composure, a single excuse, or reason, or thought, but comes up with nothing. 

Erwin reaches down and takes his shoulder, clearly with the intention of helping Levi stand, but Levi doesn’t want to stand. Levi doesn’t want to move. Levi’s whole body goes limp, strings cut, and he collapses against Erwin. His head drops into Erwin’s lap, cheek against his thigh, crumpled by his side, and Levi feels that peace again, that balm to his sores, and the pain ebbs, and his vision goes from white to black. He doesn’t remember anything else, just that his last thought was that Erwin is indeed very warm, and his sleeping clothes smell like him.

000

He comes to with a jolt. He’s in an empty room. It’s small. It is not his own. He blinks in the low light from the single window - evening. From what he can see of the city outside, he’s in Trost, still. The hospital.

God, his head hurts. He feels sick. He tries to sit up but the dizziness upturns his stomach and he just manages to force the vomit back. He lies, staring at the ceiling, blinking stinging eyes. He’s hot and shivering. A fever, then. Great.

He waits, tries again, tries to sit up, so he can stand, so he can leave, but his body is too heavy. Heavy and useless. He’s had fevers in the past; upset stomachs and chills and water sicknesses, but this feels different. It’s like his brain is melting, slipping down the back of his throat, digesting in his rolling stomach, turning into acid.

Eventually, the door opens: a doctor. They feel his forehead - put their hand on him - tuts at what they find.

“How are you feeling?”

“Shit.”

“The fever took you quickly. You were out cold. When was the last time you ate?”

He thinks. It’s difficult. “This morning.”

“Yesterday morning. You’ve been out for a day.”

“What?” Lying around, like the damn pigs. Wasting everyone’s time. 

“You’re rather unwell, Captain Levi. We are monitoring you.”

“I need to get back to work.”

The doctor scoffs behind their mask. 

“Commander Smith warned me you would say that.”

Shame runs through him, quick like the zip of a wire. He must have passed out, swooning into his commander like a damn milkmaid. All because he’d been a bit tired. A bit too busy to eat. He’d had half of Erwin’s workload and it had been too much. Unreliable.

He could try and explain the headache, he supposes, the nausea, the tightness in his chest. The doctor stirs some herbs into hot water. He sits up, and breaks out in a sweat. He must be ill. His body feels like rock. 

He drinks, tries to drink, can only manage a few mouthfuls before he has to push the bowl away to fight down the vomit. 

“You’re dehydrated. Probably undernourished. Definitely sleep-deprived. You’ll just have to sit it out, Captain.”

Again. So soon. He’s been on leave for months. He’s sick of the sickbed. 

“No.”

The doctor wets a towel, goes to touch Levi with it, changes their mind, drops it on the nightstand instead. They head for the door. 

“It is foolish to argue with doctors, Captain.”

They clearly don’t see any danger in his stubbornness. They leave, and Levi tries to stand, can’t manage it, manacled to his bed by his own uncooperative body. He must sleep, then. He’s pulled under, the only escape from the dull, pounding pain in his head. 

A few days pass like that, in a haze, and as Levi’s anger grows, the rest of him seems to weaken. He can’t keep anything down. He sleeps fitfully and wakes more tired, dreaming of being crushed by giant hands, squeezed tight in a giant intestine, boiled in a giant stomach. He wakes again with a desperate sense of what he needs. 

“Get the Commander. Please.” His voice is brittle. His throat is dry. He can’t lift his head off the pillow. 

“He has lost an arm, Captain. Do you really want to reward him for battling off infection by introducing him to another one?”

“I need…to speak with him…” The cure is in Erwin’s flesh, Levi knows it. If Erwin would just come in, and be quiet, and alive, and reliable, and let Levi feed off him a bit, touch Levi’s face, speak to him a little, Levi would be fine. He’d be alright again. 

“You can’t. It’s too risky for the Commander. Whatever you’ve got is vicious, and we are quarantining you so it doesn’t spread.”

You can’t get it. You need my body to get it. You’re all immune. He’s immune. 

I’ll die, then. 

“Your temperature is climbing. The next bit will be the hardest, but you are the strongest. I imagine you’ll be much better in a few days.” They say. They sound, for the first time, unsure. Maybe he has them scared. Maybe they heard he fights titans like no one else, and now can’t even beat a fever. 

The day lasts for years. It’s raining outside but swelteringly hot. Levi stews in his own sweat, feeling revolting, and if he was any more conscious he’d attempt to clean himself with the damp towel, but he can’t move. The walls are sweating, too. The paint melts, runs in murky rivulets to the floorboards, the white made gray with years of accumulated filth, dripping down further, seeping into the streets, the foundations of the city, down further, Below, where it’s stifling and Levi can’t breathe, where the world is capped and the lid is locked and there is never enough air, too cold in winter and too hot in summer, illness everywhere and all the faces are strange now, the streets are strange now. It is no longer his world. He has lost his way. He has lost his friends. He has lost his mind. He needs to climb the Wall. He needs to feel the ground rush up to meet him. He needs the agony of emptiness, and the promise of crystal-clear nothing, forever. Forever.

When he wakes, it’s dark. He struggles against the ropes of sleep, eyes heavy, thoughts slow. He’s disorientated: he hasn’t seen the room at night. 

There is someone else there. His heart starts up, that adrenaline as sweet and familiar as cigarette smoke spreading through him, waking his limbs, fighting a losing battle against his body. He’s a sitting duck. He’s promised to fight for humanity and now he cannot even fight for himself. 

The figure is tall, shaping the blackness into something solid. It has one arm and one wing, trailing oddly at its side. Its head brushes the ceiling. The room bends to it. It’s too heavy for the floor and too wide for the walls.

It seems to be standing quite far away, but it stretches an endless arm out, and Levi flinches, or thinks he flinches. He can taste bile. He’s panting with the effort of maintaining his body temperature. He is being slowly boiled.

The hand arrives, eventually, and Levi is helpless to stop it. It brushes the hair off his face, and exposes his forehead to the air, sizzling, steaming, titan-blood, regeneration, healing, unrelenting…

The heat withdraws, tucking itself into a corner. It’s like the windows fly open with a gale. Levi chokes, coughing, trying to draw the fresh air in.

“Levi?” The figure says, in Erwin’s voice. Levi can’t swim, but he’s swimming now, kicking with everything he has, towards the surface.

The hand is gone - it leaves its patch of coolness behind for mere seconds. Levi gasps, finds the strength to move, reaches out. The figure is shrinking, hardening, compacted into a man. His wing is a loose shirt sleeve. His face is shadowed.

Levi flails until he hits something, and then grips it, with everything he has left. It’s a hip, perhaps, a waist. A flank. He digs his fingers in. He pulls, pleading.

“I shouldn’t be here. Please keep quiet.”

Erwin looks down at Levi’s hand. Levi’s awareness comes in drips. He is realizing what he is doing slowly, as if watching someone else do it, and then recognising his own face. He can barely feel the shame against the pain. The desperation for relief batters the embarrassment out of him. His temples throb. His chest constricts. He is suffocating himself.

Erwin, merciful Erwin, pragmatic, intelligent, compassionate Erwin, relieves him, moves closer, sits beside him. Levi can hear his blood, roaring through his veins, all human, all alive, filling him, singing - it’s good. That’s good. Levi’s own blood responds in kind; slows to match Erwin’s pace, calm, efficient, falling into step with him as he always has. Erwin puts his hand on Levi’s forehead again and Levi sighs. The fire is doused, smoldering into embers. 

“You’re worse than I thought. Worse than they told me.”

“Don’t…want…they don’t want…” Levi tries. It’s a grating whisper. A death rattle.

“I know. They don’t want to risk infection. I’ve told them I am almost completely healed, but they are still keeping me under watch. It is you they should worry about. You are irreplaceable.” He says casually, like he is musing, reorganizing statistics. Levi moves closer, shuffles under his damp sheets. Erwin hesitates, tenses, Levi can feel it, like his own muscles, like his own body.

“You can’t…”

“Don’t speak. Save your strength. If you are this unwell, I will risk infection.”

“No… no… ” Levi tries. “It isn’t…you can’t catch it…it’s me. It isn’t a sickness doing this, it’s…”

Erwin strokes his hair back again. He is trying to soothe him, because Levi sounds insane. Because he thinks he is delirious, floundering, falling - he is trying to give superficial comfort to a deranged and dying comrade, like holding the hand of a cadet with half his body chewed off. Unfortunately, his intention doesn’t matter. It’s an immediate tonic. Levi leans up into the touch. He doesn’t have the strength to resist any longer. It has been taken from him by this sickness.

“The doctor…the doctor hasn’t got it…”

“That’s true. And perhaps a little unusual.” Erwin is talking quietly. It echoes in Levi’s head. It drowns out the screaming.

“They can’t…you can’t…it’s just me, trust me - please, I just need…”

“What do you need?”

He needs the fire out. He needs coolness.

“Water.” He says.

Erwin nods, takes his hand away, stands.  Levi feels the noise physically ripped from him.

“No! No..don’t go…”

“I’m not going anywhere, just to get you water.” He indicates to the jug on the other side of the room. “And keep your voice down. I was not joking - I am not allowed to be in here.”

Levi lies and waits, breathing, while Erwin fetches him a glass. He sits up, or attempts to, takes the glass, sips once, twice, swallows around the water - lukewarm, wetting his throat but doing nothing else, stirring up his stomach where it already roils and complains. He cannot manage more.

“You need to replace the water you are losing.” Erwin says. He pushes Levi’s hand, holding the glass, back towards him. Levi tries - Erwin must see him try - but he chokes on it. Erwin, with his serious voice and his missing arm and his big brain, so stupid still, so blind. He’s ruining Levi. He’s dragging him across coals. He has branded him, and Levi hates him for it, feels the hate as keenly and hungrily as the other thing, the needing thing, that is killing him.

“Please, just - “ Levi isn’t sure if he says it or thinks it. He drops the glass - throws it - and it smashes against the wall - some strength summoned from somewhere, from the new bubbling in his blood. Erwin’s going to scold him, or question him, or command him to shut up, or worst of all, he’s going to leave to go and clean the broken glass up, so Levi doesn’t give him the chance. He crashes into him, leaning into the tugging, the raging. He holds Erwin still and fits himself against his chest, his cheek pressed to his shoulder, and feels his body convulse. If this is a fever, and he does infect Erwin, in his weakened state it might kill him. He shouldn’t be touching him, but he’s been here god knows how long and he’s coming up dry on self-control. He just wants the ache to abate. He just wants to rest. 

To Erwin’s credit, he doesn’t flinch at the prospect of infection. He steadies Levi, a huge hand on his waist like it’s nothing, but doesn’t move to touch him further. It’s working - fuck, why is it working?! - the hurt is retreating, the world rights itself slowly, bit by bit, and Levi grunts at it, grits his teeth against it, the wash of coolness right down his spine, pooling in the place Erwin’s hand rests. Erwin feels warm and alive. He smells like a living thing, and like Erwin, so he must be alive. 

“Feels…” Levi sighs half-heartedly against Erwin’s collarbone. He puts his hand flat over Erwin’s heart, closes his eyes, breathes into the material of his shirt. It’s like poppy milk. It seeps into his head and chases the pain away. He can breathe again. There is feeling in his fingers.

Erwin must be shocked but Levi is too out of it to notice, let alone care. Levi touches his neck, where his pulse is, feels it - or maybe that’s his own? - brushes his fingers over it, then presses them down, firm and hard, with his renewed strength. He pants against him, relieved that he can’t see his expression, remembering just in time to close his mouth before he starts drooling on him. 

“Feels better.” He says. Erwin stills at that. Levi realizes somewhere that this will be almost unbearable to come back from, if he doesn’t die tonight. How is he going to look him in the eye again? How is he going to expect to be taken seriously? When he’s behaved like a scorned child, like a rabid animal? When his commander has seen him like this - like no one else has ever seen him, like no one ever should?

“Better? Is that so?” Erwin says. His voice rumbles through Levi’s skull. It’s bliss.

Erwin moves his hand, along Levi’s side, up his ribcage, over his stammering heart. Levi's head vibrates as Erwin touches it, drawing his fingers through Levi’s hair, cradling him - it’s a simple, assured gesture, and he scratches Levi’s scalp as he holds him. Levi almost weeps. He can feel him all over, feel him all around, and Erwin feels him back. He’s the greatest man, the most merciful, he knows exactly what needs to be done. He knows exactly what Levi needs, and how to help, as always. Levi can trust him absolutely. And Erwin can trust him, too - to always protect him, and to make it so that he is always warm and soft and touchable, smelling of sleep and soap. Levi will not let anything else take any more of Erwin. They have not earned the right, and Levi is greedy. He will make sure there is plenty left for him.

Levi must fall asleep, but he isn’t aware of it. He wakes up to a light room, with the sun washing in from outside. His head is heavy and woolen. Erwin is there, sitting on a chair at his bedside. The doctor is there, too, watching Levi wake up. 

“Your fever has broken.” They say.

“How long has it been this time?” He groans. He sits up. He does, admittedly, feel much better.

“Just a night.” They send a very hard look towards Erwin - they’re brave - but it passes right through him, useless. He’s watching Levi with interest.

“Good.”

“How do you feel?”

“Fine.” He says, feels the sandy inside of his own mouth, his coarse tongue, “Thirsty.”

“Here.” Erwin passes him a glass. Levi glances at the wall behind Erwin, wonders why he looks, but sees nothing.

He drinks. It goes down. His stomach roars to life.

“Hungry.”

“We’ll take it slowly. We don’t want to overfeed you too soon, or your stomach won’t be able to handle it.” 

Levi slumps back against the headboard. His head hurts, but distantly. Manageably. His neck is stiff. He feels disgusting.

“I want a bath.”

“Raising your temperature again isn’t wise.”

“A cold bath, then.”

“Similarly, you shouldn’t - “

“Fine, fuck, lukewarm! I don’t give a shit. Just let me…”

“I think we should allow Captain Levi the basic dignity of washing himself, don’t you agree?” Erwin asks, polite, calm, without any room for argument. The doctor sighs.

“Alright. I’ll have one run. Captain Levi, you are out of the woods, but the infection may return if you do not look after yourself properly. I have already explained to Commander Smith that it is not safe for him to be in here, but he had my authority overwritten by Central Command, so I must insist that you do not bring anyone else into this room for at least the next two days. If this infection took you out so completely, imagine what it could do to those weaker.” They say this evenly, with well-concealed anger.

“Fine by me.” Levi doesn’t want anyone else in the room, anyway. Not seeing him like this. Not when his head is still throbbing.

They go; to run him a bath, hopefully. Levi lets his head drop back against the headboard.

“You don’t think it’s infectious?” Erwin asks, continuing a conversation he was clearly having with himself in his head.

“No.” Levi says. “I don’t think so. Otherwise they would have it. You still probably shouldn’t be here. It’s a risk, anyhow.” 

Erwin frowns. “You asked me to stay.”

“I did?” 

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice.” Erwin says, warm with…humor? He glances down at his hand, resting on his knee, fingers twitching - abashed. 

“What do you mean?”

“Last night. It seemed as if you needed me to stay, in order to rest yourself.”

“Huh?

“Ah, you don’t remember. I suppose that makes sense; your fever was extremely high. I think you were a little delirious.”

Erwin - last night - was here? With Levi? He concentrates; it is difficult with the throbbing. Yes - a figure with one arm, he remembers that. He was worried he was going to be attacked. In the Underground if you let your guard down while sleeping, men would come and take things from you. Some of them were missing limbs. It makes sense: he forgot where he was. He was disorientated.

Erwin - Erwin’s hand - just the one. It was…it had…he can’t quite…

“You seemed… soothed. By my touch. I think you might have been frightened. You asked me not to go, and so I didn’t. You fell asleep against me. You were speaking nonsense, and so I let you sleep. I thought you probably needed to not be disturbed. The doctor found us this morning and helped get you back into bed. And now I am in trouble with the Medical Board for disobeying their orders.” He says this lightly, amused, without a shred of shame or embarrassment. Levi wishes he could say the same.

It comes rushing back in one flood, hazy and in the wrong order, like he was blackout drunk or something. The pathetic way he had grabbed Erwin, fallen into his arms - or arm, he supposes - gripped him tight, begged him not to go. He’d taken his medicine from Erwin’s skin. He’d been too out of it to care how it looked. Shit.

“I wasn’t frightened.” Levi says, relying probably too much on his trademark stoicism. 

“Not frightened, then. Delirious.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’m glad I could help. Sickness always makes one feel so helpless.” He says, with conviction and bitterness. Don’t touch that, Levi thinks.

“Sorry,” Levi mutters, not looking at him, “Sorry about that. And...uh, thank you. I suppose. I was out of my mind. Didn’t mean to be so pathetic.”

“Think nothing of it, Captain.” Erwin says his title like he’s rubbing it in, but his expression doesn’t flinch. 

“I don’t need you to babysit me. I’m fine now.”

“I never imagined you would. You need no one. I’m glad you’re feeling better. You certainly look better.”

“Will look a damn lot better after a bath.” Levi says, grimacing, 

“You’ll be back in the field next week, if you continue this recovery trajectory. Not that it will make much difference - our main obstacle is inside, not outside.” Erwin’s stare goes distant, thinking behind his eyes. Levi would like to ask him what he’s turning over in his head, that unplottable land mass as unknowable as whatever the fuck sits behind the Walls and throws titans at them. He doesn’t ask. He never does. He probably wouldn’t understand, anyway. Doesn’t mean he can’t think about it.

“I’ll be ready for whatever we need to do, anyway.” Levi drawls, stares at his hands. They shake slightly. His heart rate is still a bit frantic. Jittery. Like an aftershock.

A nurse comes in with some food, which Levi manages to eat. Mostly because it is a pitiful portion, to save his stomach. Erwin watches him eat, watches the nurse tell him his bath is ready, watches him leave.

Levi stands, wobbling slightly, feeling the muscles in his calves complain: he must have been spasming for them to cramp like that. Erwin goes to help him, reaches out his hand, and Levi looks at it. A buzzing takes up in his head.

“I’m fine, thanks.” He says, supporting himself on the headboard, holding still until he’s steady.

Erwin looks like he’s waiting for something. Levi is waiting for something.

“Is there anything else? Because I can get to the bath myself and don’t really want you talking tactics while my ass is out.”

Erwin blinks; a little show of surprise. “Oh, of course. Sorry, I thought you might - “

“I’m fine, Erwin. Stop fussing. I’m sorry for fainting on you. You can go and see to more important things.”

“Very well, if you are certain.” Erwin collects his coat, walks with Levi out of the door.

“I am meeting with Pixis today. The outcome will determine when we can begin with Eren.” He speaks quietly, but boldly enough to avoid looking suspicious. Levi nods.

“Right. You feeling ok?”

Erwin nods. “Well enough. I am supposedly on bedrest for the next month, but I’ve stopped bleeding so much.” He glances at his empty sleeve impassively.

“I’ll come by later, Levi.”

“No, I’ll come by later. I had a fever. You lost an arm.” 

Erwin smiles, amused. It’s been a while since Levi amused him.

“I will see you later, then.”

He leaves. Levi walks to the bathroom. His head still feels woolen.

The nurses have drawn a bath for him. The room is otherwise empty - they must have cleared it for him. 

Beats scrubbing myself in a bucket in my room.

He takes a long bath. It makes his body ache less, but his dizziness worse, despite the water not being particularly hot. He stands out, dripping, lets himself air dry for a moment. He can practically feel the heat evaporating off him with the end of his fever.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He looks awful: gray, pallid, eyes shadowed by sleeplessness. There is a cut on his forehead, clean and scabbing over, where he must have hit it against Erwin’s bed. Fucking ridiculous .

By the time he leaves, he feels much better. By the time his second meal comes, he cannot eat it.

“What is wrong? Stomachache?” The doctor asks. They’ve still got their facemask on.

“Yeah…” His gut growls and complains. Hungry, but with no appetite - how is he supposed to fix that? His body seethes. It is angry with him. 

He tries, anyway, knowing it will help. He hates wasting food. He eats the whole bowlful, slowly, meticulously, fuelled by spite. After he is finished, he throws it back up again, into the bowl.

“We probably expected a bit too much of you.” Says the doctor, as the nurse cleans up, like he’s some incontinent old man. Levi is shaking again. 

“My fever broke.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re clear, yet.” They touch his forehead.

“Hm. Maybe you’ll have a second flush. That’s unfortunate. I’ll tell Commander Smith.”

Levi has a creeping sense of revelation that he would normally give more consideration, but thoughts are coming slowly again. He lies down to relieve his limbs of his body’s weight. He feels that same sickness; hungry and nauseous all at once. Flighty but exhausted.

I’ve slept for days. How much more rest can I need?!

He rests anyway. The following day, he gathers the strength to leave for another bath. He is permitted to sit in the courtyard, providing he is alone. He breathes in the fresh air, feels it like nails down to his lungs.

When he is back in his room, the nurse says he missed the Commander. 

Levi is glad of it. He is ashamed. With the stunt he pulled the last time Erwin was here, he thinks it would be best if he kept his distance. 

Besides, what if he is infectious? What if he’s wrong? What if he kills him?

So he waits for it to be over, but whatever startling progress he made that night, it grinds to a halt. He struggles with his food. He struggles to sleep but struggles to stay awake. He can just about make it to the bathroom and back with the energy he has left. When the doctor returns, telling him Erwin has been asking after him, Levi pleads with them to lie.

“You were the one that wanted him here in the first place.”

“Yes, I know, but…” Talking is exhausting. He can’t lift himself up from his pillow. “I’ll just worry him. And you were right. It’s not worth the risk of infection. Tell him I’m fine. Stop him from coming to visit. Please.”

“He has an order from high up -”

“Please. Keep him away. Please.”

They stare at him oddly. Perhaps they didn’t expect the politeness. They nod.

They make him drink some water. They lay a rag soaked in herbs over his eyes. They leave him to sleep. He dreams of tar. Of sinking into it.

000

When he wakes up next, Erwin is there again.

“I told them not to -”

“They thought you were dying. They came to me and said you didn’t want me to see you like this. I told them that was absurd, that a man like you is too sensible for pride like that.”

Levi sits up. He…he sits up. He feels…

“How long have you been here?”

“All night. I lay beside you. You moved towards me in your sleep. You were asking for a ‘Kenny’.”

The room isn’t spinning. The thudding is back to a throbbing. His stomach is still.

Embarrassment, hot and putrid, leaks into his bloodstream.

“Why did you tell the doctor that I wasn’t to come and see you?” Erwin looks calm and steady, sitting over there, an arm’s length away from Levi. His fingers itch.

“Was it pride, after all? Were you hoping to die silently and alone, at the risk of showing weakness?”

“There was no need for you to come.” Levi says. His voice, his near-normal voice, sounds strange to him now. “I’m alright. I’m not dead. It would have been a fuss over nothing.”

Erwin scrutinizes him, unconvinced.

“You’re worse. You were better, and now you’re getting worse again. You have been keeping me from seeing you.”

Erwin stands. He walks over to Levi’s bed. Levi wants to bolt. He also wants to collapse.

“Why are you being so stubborn, Levi? Why the change? What have you figured out?” He asks.

He’s so patronizing. Like you know anything. “What do you think? You think I’m slacking off? Trying to wrangle myself more leave from service?” He says sarcastically. Under the sheets, he buries his fingernails into the meat of his thumb.

Erwin considers him, sighs deeply.

“I think you know your own ailment, and I think you are beginning to learn the cure. You’re not contagious, are you Levi? It’s not an infection, is it?”

It isn’t an infection. And infection takes you, passes through you, leaves you weak, but if you’re lucky, leaves you. This cannot leave because it never came. The symptoms are familiar. They come from him. He is the infection. He doesn’t understand what is happening to him, only that he is happening to it as well. 

Erwin was always one step ahead. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Levi says slowly, with defeat. 

Erwin nods. “And I make it better?”

“No.” Levi snaps, snarling. “Not just you. You in a stable state. You…I don’t know, breathing , and being alive, and sitting still. You being safe makes it go away, so it will never go away, will it? I’ll never be cured. If you suffer, I suffer, and we both know how much you love to suffer.”

He’s not sure where it comes from, but now he’s said it, it makes sense. His brain and his body align again, at last. 

Erwin blinks at him heavily, mournfully, with some emotion Levi can’t identify because he isn’t sure he’s ever seen it before.

“And how are you so sure of that? How can you know it’s not just…human contact? Touch, or body heat, or that it is something mental that is soothed by reassurance from another person -”

“Another person wouldn’t work, aren’t you listening?!” The headache is back. He is in a pot, and the pot is being slowly filled with molten steel, and it’s eating his legs, searing through his stomach, liquifying him tenderly, inch-by-inch, crawling closer to his brain. He screws his eyes shut. “I’ve been touched by others. It’s not others, and it isn’t just touch, although that - that helps - it’s more like…being certain of you. It’s like I have to… fuck ,” He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, he sways there, breathing deeply though his nose, controlling his nausea, controlling his anger, “It’s like my body has to tell my brain that you are here, and alive. It’s like I need to convince my body. That’s why the touching helps. I think, I don’t - it started when…when you lost the arm, it started growing then, lost my appetite and stopped sleeping…couldn’t…couldn’t focus , so fucking tired all the time…the headaches and stomach aches and the fever creeping in, and then it got better because you came and touched me...and I think losing the arm triggered it, maybe? And I don’t know what is happening to me… why is this happening to me? ”

“It’s alright, we will find out more.” Levi has canted forward, he notices. Erwin has steadied him with his hand on his shoulder. Levi feels it, wants to turn his head into it, and touch his face to the inside of Erwin’s wrist.

“We will resolve this. It is not practical for you to be touching me at all times. It will be impossible in our job, anyway. We will come up with a different solution, I’m sure. It might be pertinent to look into your family history - it must have come from somewhere. Or perhaps a defining moment of your youth? Have you felt it with anyone else?”

Levi is hardly listening. The molten metal reaches his throat, burning through his vocal chords. It rises higher and higher, until it has melted his face away, his brain, the very tips of him entirely. So hot . Will it be like this always? Erwin is right there, touching him now, very much alive, and it still isn’t enough. The flood returns. Levi begs anything that is listening that it does not become a rhythm he gets used to. 

“Levi? Are you listening?”

Levi’s head droops forward of its own accord, knocking into Erwin’s stomach. He breathes in deeply. The metal sets, cracks, like it’s hollow. Cooling.

“Mmn, I just - I’m just…”

“That’s alright. I apologize for questioning you. If you need…you can take what you need.” Erwin says, sounding almost comically uncertain. He drops his hand from Levi’s shoulder and lets it hang by Levi’s head, palm open; an invitation.

“Keep talking.” He demands. He takes Erwin’s hand, twists it a little, feels his pulse beating in his wrist, feels the bones beneath move and shift. He lifts it to his face, holds it against his cheek, breathes him in, deeply. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when you were asking me to talk more.” Erwin says. He sounds warm, amused. He sounds fond. It makes Levi warm, too, a nice warm, not a burning warm. He has amused Erwin. He smiled through his words. Ah…

“Shut up. No, fuck - don’t. Sorry, I’m…” 

“I know, Captain.” Fond again. Fuck. His fingers move against Levi’s face. They scratch at his hairline. Levi nuzzles into the touch. Like a damn dog. This is humiliating. It feels perilously good. A blessed relief. 

This is beginning to get complicated. God. Shit. Erwin starts talking. Levi can feel his voice. It scratches and soothes. 

“Hange says you are upset with them. I suppose that makes sense. It’s a lot to take in - this new information. It’s thrown a lot of new possibilities down on the table. I’ve been reading anything I can find on it, and Hange’s been theorizing about how titan bodies work, how the humans inside are like Eren but without the control, but functionally it seems to be the same, hence why taking nape damage kills them permanently - the same is probably true for Eren. We were considering how to leverage the information we have gathered to best convince Zackley that it isn’t -”

Levi needs to hear this. He does. He will probably be told some streamlined, abridged version of it later, anyway, and didn’t he want to see inside Erwin’s head? And this is Erwin’s thought process as it is happening. It’s a rare sight. But talk of titans is getting his blood back up, making him think about the Springer kid and Hange’s wild eyes and Erwin’s arm lying in a pile of sticky vileness somewhere outside Rose. Thinking about how much it must hurt to be devoured, and how close Erwin came to knowing first hand.

So he interrupts him. “Stop - not titans, please. Something else.”

“Oh. Ok. Like what?” Erwin is scratching at his scalp again. It’s making tiny pinpricks of light appear behind Levi’s closed eyelids.

“Anything else. Something normal. Boring.” He says breathily.

“Alright. The first official division of the three-pronged military structure that we still use today is recorded to have happened - “

“No. No. Something - “ Something light, something that will make your voice mellow, and stir through me just so. Something you will tell with genuine happiness, and not a sick sense of self-righteousness. “Something about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah…” He deepens his breathing again, consciously, against a wave of nausea. In through his nose and out through his mouth. He grips Erwin’s shirt. He leans his head heavier onto Erwin’s hand. Erwin’s fingers slip through his hair, gently, like he’s stroking a cat.

“Well, there isn’t much to…I suppose I could tell you about the Bell House.”

“Mm?”

“When I was a child, the village we lived in wasn’t far from a chapel. An old chapel, to an old god, that’s what my father told me. That these things come and go, you know? So it was before the titans, before the Walls, older than living memory and his books. And these things, these relics, well, there’s usually not much of them left. This chapel had been destroyed. I asked why, and my father said because that’s how humans do things; they build something, use it, and when it’s served its purpose, we take it down again.” Erwin speaks calmly, stroking Levi still. One of Levi’s hands slips round his back to hold him against him. He feels his stomach rise and fall with his speech.

“So I didn’t question it - not at first - why these people had abandoned their old god and wrecked their own place of worship. I was only a child, and that isn’t what interested me. What interested me was the bell - this great metal thing the destruction couldn’t eradicate. It lay on its side in the middle of the broken pillars and piles of stone. Rusting and forgotten, gaping open at its base, like the entrance to a cave. It can’t have been all that big, but I remember it being huge. When I found it, it frightened me. I saw it when I tried to sleep at night; something too big and manmade, lying in wait in the ruins of this once-holy place. Tarnished and unable to serve its purpose. How long would it stay there? No one could be bothered to move it. I kept going back, knocking my knuckles against it, listening to its dull resonance - much deteriorated. It had no uvula. It would never ring again. I took my friend - Moritz - to see it. He dared me to sit in its mouth. I remember being quite absurdly frightened.”

He chuckles a little, at himself, at his child self’s foolishness. It makes the pulse in Levi’s head go pleasant. It makes the strength seep back into his muscles.

“But I did it, of course. Never one to refuse a dare. And he joined me, and we sat there, in the mouth of the bell, hitting the sides with our shoes, until the sun went down. And then I kept going back, with Moritz, or other friends, or often alone, and sat in the bell, slowly gaining the courage to go further and further back into it, until I’d peer out at the ruins from the back of its chamber. I started leaving things there - treasures I’d found - snail shells, interesting rocks from the stream, unusually colored moss, dead butterflies, shards of colored glass, acorns - that sort of thing. I brought a blanket, too, sometimes. I built a house in the bell. I’d eat lunch there if I was out all day. I even managed to convince my father to let me and Moritz camp out there one night, but we got too scared once the sun had set and ran home anyway.”

This vision of Erwin - this carefree kid with friends and interests, collecting his little trinkets, playing house in the graveyard of a civilisation, not even thinking to ask his father questions - it fills Levi with… something. Not quite joy, not quite sadness, not quite affection. Something bitter, but substantial. Nourishing. It makes Erwin seem more real. More alive. And that makes the sickness fade a little.

“The Bell House was an ideal den. It still scared me from time to time, and was always cold and uncomfortable to sit on, so I brought cushions and blankets and friends to make it better. When I was learning to read, I would curl up in there for hours. One Spring I had to postpone my triumphant return to the Bell House because a family of thrushes had moved in, and I didn’t want to disturb the nest.”

That sounds nice, Levi thinks. It sounds peaceful. He can picture the sun on the rusting metal. He can picture a thoughtful little boy with grazed knees and too much eyebrow, reading a book in an abandoned chapel bell. He can picture him watching it rain, and sheltering inside. He can picture the looks of joy on his face when he rounds the corner and catches sight of his secret place, waiting to welcome him, as always.

“What happened to it?” Asks Levi hoarsely, because he cannot preserve happiness. He has to turn everything grim, and morbid, and can’t just let the little Erwin in his mind have his Bell House forever.

“I’m not sure. One day in summer it was just…gone. They cleared away most of the rubble. Destroying any lingering evidence, probably. That may have been my fault too. I told some of the children about the Bell House, but never told them where it was, unless I brought them with me. I wanted to keep it for myself.”

“Oh.” Levi says. “That’s too bad.”

“I was getting rather big for it.” Erwin says happily.

“Can you - “ Levi’s teeth are beginning to hurt, like the soreness is spreading up from his jaw. It isn’t…it isn’t enough. Either that or it’s too much. The story…it’s made him ache again. It’s made the needing thing grow another set of teeth. He pulls Erwin towards him, and his Commander gets the message.

“Is it getting better?” Erwin says, following him onto the bed, sitting against the headboard and letting Levi pour himself over him. Levi feels drunk and drowsy, too content to care what this looks like - they’ve come this far, and Levi would quite like to sleep tonight. But it’s not sleep that he wants, it’s more, it’s…

“Thank you. That was…good.” He finishes lamely. Erwin’s hand is back in his hair, thank god.

“That’s alright. It was nice to share, I suppose. I haven’t thought about it in a while.”

“Uh-huh…” Levi encourages, but he’s lost the thread of conversation, feeling woozy. He’d quite like…he’d quite like skin-on-skin contact, but that doesn’t seem right. That doesn’t seem like something his Commander should have to give him. Levi rubs his face over Erwin’s chest, smells him, his clean shirt, feels his heartbeat, just like he daydreamed about before the fever took him. Feels good, feels safer, like he’s standing on more solid ground, and the air is clear and fresh, and he needn’t worry about anything. 

Erwin talks about the land he grew up on a bit more, but Levi can’t focus so well now. He’s hungry. He wonders if he could just… there; he slides his index finger in between the gap Erwin’s buttons leave, between each half of his shirt, the tiny slit of skin, rests it there. Warm. Breathing. He tries to channel all his awareness into the tip of his finger. Erwin’s skin is soft. He must have missed all the scar tissue.

He feels - damn - like there’s something he’s not getting. Like this fever is pushing him towards it, blindly, and he’s stumbling around like an idiot. Maybe he could get the fever inside - the actual fever - to break if he figured it out, and then he’d be normal again.

“How do you feel now?” 

And maybe Erwin could help?

“Yeah, uh…weird, like…dizzy. Hot? I think, better, but not -“ 

Half-sitting, half-lying - on his fucking commander like they’re sweethearts in a meadow - he wishes he could just die and it could all be over and he wouldn’t have to talk or think about this ever again. The buzzing in his head is like a fly circling a flame. 

“Would it help if -” Erwin asks. Levi’s squirming, trying to get comfortable, but it’s like the heat is - it’s like, now it is assuaged, it needs somewhere to go, or something. It’s stirring his limbs. He fidgets, like walking over too-hot ground. 

Erwin takes his hand off Levi - no! - and quickly and efficiently unbuttons his shirt. Like it’s nothing. Like he isn’t Levi’s boss. Like he isn’t the Commander of the Survey Corps. He puts Levi’s hand on his bare chest and returns his to Levi’s hair. Levi’s…he feels dizzier, if anything.

“Erwin - it’s fine, I’m not…there’s no point in…” He protests weakly. His discomfort with the situation clashes with the singing of his body. He doesn’t want to touch him like that, doesn't want to see him dressed down. Erwin’s in charge, he should look the part, play the part properly like Levi has done. This vulnerability shouldn’t come so easily. He should fight Levi. And Levi should fight him…

It’s difficult. His spine loosens, like someone’s flicked the tension out. He sighs. Erwin’s warm - he can - yes - he can almost feel his heartbeat. His hand drifts. Skin wouldn’t be warm, wouldn’t rise and fall with breathing, if it belonged to a dead man. Levi wouldn’t be able to feel Erwin if he wasn’t here, alive, with him, would he? Levi hasn’t touched someone like this in…in years. He hasn’t felt another’s breath beneath him since…he can’t even remember.

“It’s alright, Levi. It’s just skin. You can do what you need to do, I don’t mind.”

“You’re…we’re not…this isn’t…” Levi has moved his face to Erwin’s chest - warm, breathing, alive - and ah, that’s better. He can hear inside him now, hear him digesting, his heart pumping, the commonplace mechanics of his unexceptional body, working away as it always has. Levi rubs his cheek there - just a bit, just a… oh, that makes it better. The buzzing is louder, but it’s better. The fever’s there again, growing, but it’s…it’s nice. It’s making him feel awake. Alive. Strong again. Like he’s being reminded of what he’s protecting, and now he has to protect it. Stupid how he could just…how I could just…shit, I’m losing my mind…

“I know, Levi. I’m just helping you out. You’re my captain. Of course I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out later. There is nothing we cannot eventually explain. There is no need to worry, you see.” He speaks softly. Levi feels it in his back teeth. 

He…he presses the tip of his nose against Erwin’s chest. The hair tickles. Levi hates being too close to other people, and their stench and their mess and their noise. He can cope with company, even welcomes it sometimes, if it’s at a reasonable distance. No surprise attacks. No ridiculous social niceties to inevitably fuck up. He knows his own body. He thought he knew his own body…

Erwin’s like that. He likes Erwin because he doesn’t impress himself into Levi’s space. Not physically, anyway. It’s not Erwin’s fault if he takes up more room in Levi’s head than other people. Or perhaps it is. Perhaps that was his intention from the beginning. Wouldn’t it be nice to blame him for this?

So they don’t…they don’t touch. They respect each other. Professional respect, yes - perhaps friendship. Levi would consider Erwin a friend - huh, after everything, as well - but that doesn’t mean he wants to…he’s never wanted to - not really, at least. Not beyond passing curiosity, maybe. A thought or two, flitting through his head. Sometimes. Never consciously.

It’s not close enough. Still. The skin, muscle, bone - too thick. Too much separating - he would like to be in his bloodstream, just to make sure. He’s beginning to sweat again, and he’s just had a bath - for fuck’s sake. He digs his nails in. Erwin tenses - it must hurt - counterintuitively, Levi barely cares. He turns his head. He opens his mouth a little, rests it there against Erwin’s sternum, over his heart, parted lips, the touch of teeth to skin. Erwin’s still tense. His hand drags through Levi’s hair once more and slides down to rest between his shoulder blades. Levi hates his clothes. He…he can’t help it. Erwin said it was fine, said it was no big deal, said he wanted to help. He touches his tongue to the skin. The buzzing pitches up to a hum. Levi thinks perhaps he echoes it out loud. His tastebuds prick up; Erwin tastes alive. He tastes warm. Like…like skin, he supposes. Like salt. Like soap. Like clothes and cologne.

He’s not going to eat him. Just taste him a little, to make sure. Feels stupid. Feels humiliated. The humming - it’s like, the dissonance of the fever has tuned itself, and it’s turned to music; his whole body vibrating in harmony. He tries again; a tiny touch of tongue to Erwin’s pectoral, then the dip of his throat in the middle of his clavicle. It’s good, there. He can feel Erwin’s swallow. He can taste it. The skin is thinner. He can feel his breathing more easily. The pulse rushes harder through his jugular. Levi nips it - takes a tiny bit of Erwin into his mouth, clamped between his teeth, just his skin, just for a second. Erwin’s hand is firmer on his back.

“Not too hard, Levi. Remember yourself.” He cautions. Levi is having trouble remembering himself, if he is honest. It seems to him like the pulse beneath his mouth is his own, and he has every right to try to taste it, try it out between his teeth, if he wants to. 

Erwin. It’s Erwin. Commander Erwin. Quit it. Calm the fuck down.

The warmth at the base of Erwin’s neck is good, too. He smells stronger of cologne here, not of Erwin himself, but that’s alright. That means that he’s been putting it on, dressing himself, going about his day normally, because he has recovered and things are normal again. That’s good. Erwin is well. He smells of cologne. He stays there for a beat, his face against Erwin’s throat, tucked away. It’s overwhelming - he’s alive, idiot. You can heal now. He feels drunk. He feels like he’s dreaming. The humming. 

It would be better if he could check his breath properly. That would be…he needs to be sure, after all, even though he is already sure, even though he has been sure for days. Ah, but it would be better to be sure. If I could get his breath into me, maybe I’d trust his lungs. If I could taste him properly without his stupid skin in the way. That titan got to, and that titan is dead, or else it will be soon, when I kill it. Erwin can have my arm, if I can have his. We’d work well like that, surely? I’d write good and he’d kill better. Even if it looked stupid. If I could get a bit of him inside me I could keep it for myself, and then there would always be a bit of him that would be safe, because it couldn’t leave me, and I would protect it -

“Levi. Stop.”

Erwin’s voice cuts through, of course. Levi’s got his hands on either side of Erwin’s head, gripping him tight, and is honing in on his mouth. He blinks himself back.

“Levi…” Erwin warns, low. Levi licks his lips. He watches Erwin’s mouth move as he speaks. Why didn’t he think of this before?

“Stop.” Erwin says again, his hand on Levi’s chest, pushing him, because Levi was drifting forward again without realizing. He draws back, blinking. 

“I…”

“You’re not in your right mind.” Erwin says.

“Yeah…” Levi nods. Still staring. Can’t stop. Erwin’s mouth - he’s using it to talk. And breathe. His lips are pink and certain. His teeth are straight and clean. His tongue is quick - as they say - Levi knows. He’s all talk. No, he’s talk and action. He just knows how to use his words properly. Wonderfully, in fact. He has a good voice. Strong and trustworthy. Levi doesn't mind listening to him talk so much. Even though he sometimes pretends he does.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Levi doesn’t know.

“What do you want to do? What are you trying to do?”

“I want…” He swallows. “I want air. From you. Yours. Want your…” He’s leaning again, but stops himself this time. Blinking slowly. He feels hot. He doesn’t think a single thing.

Erwin sighs. He touches Levi’s forehead. His hand is cool, as usual. Levi closes his eyes. Erwin looks unhappy with what he deduces.

“Alright. But in good faith, do you understand? I am not taking advantage of you, and I won’t have it appearing that way. This is a professional solution and my concern for you is similarly professional. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

“Yeah…yeah, of course…I’m not brain dead, I’m not helpless, I’m just…” He’s swallowing again. His mouth feels too dry and too wet at the same time. 

“Taking advantage of me…” He mutters, mockingly. How ridiculous. Only Erwin would be concerned about that. If anything it’s the other way around.

“Very well.” Erwin says on a sigh. He drops his hand from Levi’s chest and opens his posture. 

He’s letting him. Erwin is kind, even though he says he isn’t, or pretends not to be so people respect his position. Erwin is very kind, if he’s willing to debase himself for Levi. So that Levi can scratch an itch. He’s a good leader. A good Commander. Levi would like to say sorry for trying to kill him. He never did say sorry.

He leans close, goes nearly cross-eyed watching Erwin’s mouth get nearer, feels his breath. See! It’s even. And calm. So he cannot be that unhappy. 

Levi lifts his hand between their faces and touches Erwin’s lips. The breath is on his fingertips, now. Warm. Damp. Regular. He watches with fascination - why , he couldn’t say - as he moves Erwin’s lips with his index. He pulls them apart. Peers inside. It’s dark. Erwin is frowning. He looks to be taking it seriously, but his lips twitch, a tiny bit, at the corner - he’s amused.

Levi rubs Erwin’s bottom lip with his thumb. A little chapped. Levi aligns his breathing with Erwin’s. In. Out. In. Out. He touches Erwin’s teeth with his nail. Erwin drops his mouth open a little, like he’s being medically examined. Levi looks further. Pink. Clean-looking. He has nice teeth. That’s good. Of course he does. He was raised properly. He ate the right food to make them grow that way. He cleans them, probably. He’s careful with these things. Levi doesn’t need to worry. 

He touches his index finger to Erwin’s tongue. It’s wet. Unpleasant, but it makes Levi feel pleasant. Erwin’s frown deepens. He’s trying to keep his breathing in time, but his heartbeat is picking up, his body climbing with the humming again, preparing for… something, some euphoric attack that isn’t coming. He traces Erwin’s teeth, is careful not to go too far back in case he makes him gag, feels the inside of his lips, lightly, gently. Erwin’s eyelids lower a little. He closes his mouth around Levi’s finger. Slowly. He sucks on it. He flicks it with his tongue. The breath leaves Levi in a rush, in a hiss, through gritted teeth.

Erwin is looking at him as if he is fascinating. As if he is solving him like one of his problems. Perhaps he is. Perhaps this absurdity is doing it for him. Doing it for him too.

He lets Levi’s finger sit on his tongue. Levi draws it back. The humming is now a high-pitched screeching, a single tone. He copies Erwin, mouth falling open. He could…

He brings his own mouth closer, aware of his breathing, of Erwin’s, of his heartbeat. He could…

He presses his open mouth to Erwin’s. That’s… It’s different, it’s - so real, so clear, makes him shiver, makes his sinew stretch and shudder. He just stays there, lips together, only lightly, Erwin’s breathing blooming across his face where he exhales through his nose. His hand is on Levi’s waist. It’s clenched a little. Levi dips his tongue down, in, touches it to Erwin’s, feels the contact in his bones, in his guts, where the sickness comes from. He feels strength leave him completely, and then return tenfold. His grip on Erwin’s face is like a vice.

Erwin tilts his head back, pulls his mouth away from Levi’s, stays away despite the noise of protest Levi forgets to quell.

Erwin considers him, brows furrowed, eyes heavy. His gaze roves Levi’s face. He touches his hand to the side of Levi’s neck, rests the back of his fingers against him, like he’s taking his temperature. 

“Here.” He says softly. He holds Levi by his jaw, tilts his head back so that Levi has to look up along his nose at him. The angle is unexpected. Levi keeps his lips parted slightly.

Levi is confused, distracted, half-mad. He doesn’t understand, until Erwin covers his mouth again, with his own mouth - active instead of passive - and it isn’t like when Levi did it, when it was held still between breaths, rooted rigid. It’s…fluid. Erwin’s mouth moves, like a body part should, in a way that seems instinctual. His lips prise Levi open, and his tongue…slides down along Levi’s, like flames licking along coal…it’s…

Ah - it’s a kiss. Levi hadn’t thought of that. It doesn’t seem…that’s not what you’re supposed to do with your superior. That’s probably why Erwin insisted he wasn’t taking advantage. Levi didn’t think…he didn’t know that it could - Erwin’s hands on his face guide him back further until he’s just…sitting there, head back, letting Erwin do all the work. He can’t summon…anything. He can’t think. He doesn’t know a damn thing, just the buzzing, humming, screeching in his head. Pleasure like relief...relief mellowing and billowing into pleasure, like a sigh of finally, like his body understands even if his brain doesn’t. He lets himself be kissed. He has never been kissed before. He didn’t know. He didn’t think…

He tastes Erwin, then. Thoroughly. Gasping tiny sounds between. It’s good. It’s disgusting but it’s...it’s so good. It feels like whole-body trembles. His blood sings sweetly. Erwin kisses him slowly, and deeply, with something like passion, something like commitment. His mouth is hot, and alive, and Levi chases it with his own tongue, clinging to him, drawing the life from him. There, see. Alive. He’s alive. He feels alive, tastes alive, and he is kissing me with a mouth I know well. Levi will recover. They will recover from this…he hopes he can recover from this.

He was doing it wrong, before, if he was even doing it at all. Erwin had known, of course, what Levi wanted, what he needed, because he’s got all these brains and shares none of them. Bastard. And Levi doesn’t know how to kiss, how to make it good, so Erwin has to do that too. Only Erwin could kiss him until he forgets his name and make him want to apologise for it. 

Erwin draws away, and Levi tries to follow, thoughtlessly, heedless to how it looks. He feels hot all over. He feels something like rage, like bloodlust. He doesn’t let go of Erwin. 

“Better?” Erwin asks. His voice is thick. His lips are…

Levi nods, breathes, blinks. Tries to focus. The humming, it’s loud - it’s compelling…

“Levi…” Erwin says, frustrated, worn a little thin, as Levi kisses him - presses his mouth to Erwin’s, just to see - he could…I could…

“I want…” 

“I know what you want, but you’re not in your right mind. This is very out of character, Levi.”

Really? It seems like learning from Erwin, trusting him, arguing with him, are things Levi does a lot. Maybe this…this willingness to be touched is unusual. Maybe he looks a mess. Maybe he looks like he’s lost his mind. Maybe he isn’t himself. 

“Please. Please, it’s hot -“ 

Doesn’t he see?! Levi could seal their mouths together again, wet and tight, like a stomach, and digest him. He could be inside Erwin, and Erwin inside him, briefly, if he would just kiss Levi again - he’d see. It’s good. It’s good to have some of each other. That’s how it should be. That’s what Levi needs to be better. 

His heart is racing. Erwin looks at him darkly. 

He tries again, tries nudging Erwin’s nose up with his own, tries playing coy, so maybe Erwin will go easy on him. It’s difficult, to beg, to submit, but it’s helping. His illness is banished to the corners of his mind, and if he could just taste him for a little longer, maybe he’d forget about it forever. Maybe he’d forget about everything.

He drags his lips over Erwin’s, lets his tongue dart out, licks him a little. Erwin sighs, shuts his eyes, seems angry with Levi, but Levi hardly cares. Erwin is safe, now, and must know that Levi will keep it that way. Erwin must know that the fever can’t come back. He must prove it.

Levi gets his complicity, gets another kiss from him, by edging himself forwards until Erwin gives in. He kisses like he understands, which is nice. He kisses like he is knowingly and passionately unraveling Levi thread by thread. It is working. Levi’s not limp anymore. He’s stirring. This stirs him. He touches Erwin over his heart again, feels the growth of stubble along his jawline, the warmth of his head under his hair - all that thinking, a brain working overtime in his skull - opens his mouth so Erwin can do what he wants, feels too much all at once, and it’s so unusual - this mess of feeling, this abundance, in a world muted by grief and horror - that he feels absurdly like he might weep. He won’t - he does not cry, least of all over a bit of physical affection from his Commander, but the pressure in him is building to the point where he wants to let something out, be it tears, or screaming, or something else, he isn’t sure.

He presses a bit closer, even though Erwin cautioned him against losing himself, his arms over his shoulders, licking into his mouth and trying not to make a sound. Erwin’s hand is on his lower back again, like he’s steadying him, holding him there - maybe he thinks he’ll faint again. The exchanging of saliva should be repulsive, but the fever’s addled him, broken him or built him, and he can’t feel anything except intrinsic, instinctual delight, like approval. There’s something else, too. Something bubbling. He thinks he might still be hungry. He can gorge on Erwin like this, but he can’t actually eat him. He’s not an animal, or a titan, he’s a Captain, he’s a soldier, he’s a…

There’s the sound of ripping fabric through the haze - he has torn Erwin’s shirt.

Erwin pulls away, panting. Levi is a mess. Where did his self-control go? Erwin’s mouth looks wet. And red. Levi was biting it. How will I listen to him speak with it when I know I have put my tongue in there? He looks worried…or angry…or tested, perhaps.

“You need to stop now, Levi.”

Why?! Levi swallows, blinks at Erwin through the fog. He feels…

“I don’t want to.”

“I offered you professional assistance. This is not professional.” Erwin says. Levi can feel the words on his face. He’s too close. He can’t move back.

“Said you’d help…” Levi mutters. His mouth feels strange. He tries to focus on what Erwin is saying.

“How far do you expect me to go?” 

Levi frowns. Erwin looks down, between their bodies. Oh. He’s hard. Ok.

“Shit.”

It’s strange that he didn’t expect that. The throbbing in his crotch must match the one in his head so perfectly he didn’t even give it a second thought. 

“Sorry, I - “ It would be better if he was dead. He wishes he was dead. He might as well be.

“No, it’s to be expected. You’re so…” Erwin presses his thumb against Levi’s lip - a gentle touch, nothing compared to what they’ve just been doing - and Levi closes his eyes so Erwin won’t see how they roll back.

“Sensitive.” He finishes. 

Levi thinks, with complete despair, that that’s what he needs. If Erwin would just fuck him, just give him release, just let Levi touch him all over and force himself inside him, the shackles would break. He’d be free. He is sure of it. Fucking is better than eating, because he will get to keep Erwin afterwards, and humans don’t eat other humans. When humans are hungry for one another, they fuck. That’s the hunger. It’s lust. It’s just lust, it isn’t complicated. The desire to consume and possess, to become one, become as close as physically possible, to satisfy a craving and claim someone as your own - desire. Yes, sex is better. That would be so much better. That would be terrifying. That would surely cure Levi, or else kill him, and after the week he’s had, he wouldn’t particularly care either way.

But Erwin’s reluctance makes sense, of course. He could give Levi this, but he doesn’t want to, and Levi would rather die of this sickness than make Erwin touch him like that when he doesn’t want to. That’s clearly his boundary, then. That’s where lucidity enters and says no, that’s enough, that is going too far.

“No…you’re right. Sorry - fuck - I have no idea what is wrong with me.” Levi says, mouth heavy, head humming still.

Levi has never wanted to fuck anyone before. He isn’t sure what to do with the feeling.

“Do you feel any better?”

Levi nods. “Yeah…feel stronger, got - got my strength back. I hope. I…” He lets go of Erwin.

“Shit, your shirt. I’m sorry for that, too.”

Erwin glances at the sleeve, at the tear near the shoulder.

“It’s alright. It was the right one. I won’t be needing it anyway.”

Levi snorts out a burst of what could be laughter, but could also be exasperation.

He goes to get off Erwin where he finds himself straddling him. Erwin winces. That’s when he notices that they match. They have the same problem.

Levi swallows, slides across the bed to be as far away from him as possible, and blinks back the bombardment of thoughts. Erwin buttons up his ripped shirt.

“Another day, and if you continue improving at this rate, they’ll release you.”

“Then what?”

“Then we start the experiments with Eren.”

“They’ll try and take him, you know?”

Erwin nods, stands. He turns to face the window. Levi sees him adjusting himself in his pants.

“We must be prepared for that.”

“Are you staying here?” 

“Yes. Preparing.”

Why? What if they jump the gun, and take you? What if they know we know too much, and they have you assassinated? It would be easier now that you’ve only got one arm. And I wouldn’t be here to protect you. Again. 

“You sure it’s safe?” He deliberately pitches his voice low, to disguise the breathy, broken thing that is crawling up his throat, escaping his pounding heart. 

“No.” He fixes Levi with a look: is it ever safe, what we do?

“But I’ll be careful. I don’t want you falling ill again.”

“Tch.” Levi rolls his eyes, thinks about bathing, about eating, feels for the fog. “Can’t be worse than losing your arm. Maybe it was just a fluke. I’ll forget all about it when Eren goes berserk and eats half my new squad.”

“So pessimistic.” Erwin chides, warmly. He seems to have settled himself. 

“Will I see you before I leave?” Levi asks, trying to make it sound like he doesn’t care either way.

“Unlikely. I have to go to Mitras. I need to…station myself accordingly. Ear to the ground.” He says.

“But your arm…”

“I am being careful, I assure you.”

“Right.”

“If you worsen, I’ll come back. I’ve told the doctors that I’m to be notified immediately if you need me again.”

Levi feels…not happy, not confident, but calmer. Raw and healing. Regenerating. Softly steaming.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course.” Erwin humors him, allows him his dignity. What’s left of it.

He retraces his steps, and pats Levi on the shoulder. It’s a shadow-contact, a ghost of what their relationship used to be, before today. Before the night he came and brushed the hair from Levi’s face.

Levi’s shoulders drop under it. He smothers a sigh.

“Goodbye. Levi. Be careful with yourself. And keep an eye on Hange; I have high hopes for these experiments.”

Levi nods. Yessir.

And then he is gone. Levi drags more air into his lungs. A breath, and then another, and then stands from the bed, and goes to the bathroom.

000

It becomes a routine: wake up at dawn, poppy milk for the pain, wash and dress, cup of tea in the quiet kitchen, berate the others for laziness, prepare to go outside for the day’s experiments.

It’s slow going, but that’s not the kid’s fault. He tries and tries, but his young body can’t keep up with his ambition, with Hange’s ambition. There’s a lot of waiting around, which for Levi means less time focusing on discovering how Eren’s abilities work and more time focusing on the headaches. Hange’s rabid; probably taking a little bit too much joy from ripping a teenager out of a giant corpse three times a day, but their spirits buoy everyone else’s mood, so Levi lets it lie.

The girl, Krista - Historia - is the only one besides Levi who seems glum. Levi thinks a proper squad leader should probably speak with her, try and ease whatever pain she’s feeling, but he’s shit with words, even shitter with feelings, and that’s what friends are for, right? At least she has some of those. 

They almost lost her to a rogue titan shifter. She almost went beyond with the wolves in sheep’s clothing. For what? A breath of fresh air? A girl? A new start? Levi doesn't know. It’s none of his business.

“Are you alright, Levi?” Hange asks.

“Yes. Stop asking me that.”

And they do.

It’s isolated out here: old farm land. The Ragako horde passed through here, that’s why it’s abandoned and ideal. This place has seen titans before. It knows their scent and their aftermath. The mist creeps along the ground in the mornings. Levi watches it crawl slowly closer from his window.

He’s itching again. He knows why, but he’s grateful it’s bearable. Erwin must be alright. Or at least, he has no reason to think he isn’t, and that’s enough for his stupid body.

Another day passes. Dawn, poppies, washing, clothes, tea, children, titans.

And Hange gets their answers: slowly, painfully. The titan’s skin dissolves and reveals what’s underneath, with pain and pressure, ripping them from the corpse. Eren can manage two in a row, three in a day. Without a goal, they’re scrawny and weak, often unable to support themselves. It requires blood, and a goal, but god forbid they ever get stuck on a battlefield and Eren pulls one of these titans out of his ass: skinny legs crumbling, tongue lolling. It is strange how accustomed they have all become to standing near a titan, to speaking to one. Sometimes he has to physically hold Hange back from touching it when it’s hot. 

“You still seem different, ever since the fever.” They say one night. The kids are telling stories round the fire, except Eren, who is asleep upstairs. They make a hilarious family tableau. 

“Fuck off.”

“I’m just worried, Levi.” They groan, exasperated. They sit in a nest of paper; diagrams and notes and letters and books. Levi sips his tea. 

I’ve been killing humans for six years.

“Don’t be.”

“You’re getting thin. You don’t eat as much.”

“I eat fine.”

“What if you lose your strength? If you won’t allow me personal concern, how about professional?”

“How about you mind your goddamn business?”

“Are you going to argue with me for another hour or are you just going to tell me?” Hange says, levelly. Eerily levelly. 

“I’m on your side, Levi. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Something passes over Levi. He sighs silently, and stands.

Hange’s brows draw together; disappointed, maybe even personally offended, until they see that Levi’s not leaving. He’s walking round the table to stand in front of them.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. Hange’s at their most revolting when they’re at their most productive. He had to force them to wash their hands at dinner. They’d been touching the titan and everything…

Levi puts his hand on Hange’s shoulder. They freeze, mouth open slightly, eyes wide.

He frowns, moves his hand to their sternum, but he can’t feel their heartbeat - wouldn’t be able to, through clothes, anyway…

Skin, perhaps? He touches Hange’s cheek, their neck, puts his palm over their pulse point. They look, for once, mercifully lost for words.

“What are you…?”

Hange’s skin is warm. He stares at them and wills anything to appear. 

“It doesn’t work with you.” He says. He’s disappointed. Hange is reckless, but their survival instinct is stronger than Erwin’s. Him and Hange are close. They could…if they needed to, and it wouldn’t be as awkward. Touching Hange would be easier, because Levi doesn’t think he particularly wants to. The prospect doesn’t make him feel anything.

Levi drops his hand from their skin. Hange’s hand shoots up to the place he just touched.

“What?”

“I’m sick, I think.” Levi says, shrugs, curls his hands in and crosses his arms, steps away. “It’s better with touch. With human contact, at least, but it doesn’t work with you.”

“Oh,” They say. He can see their mind turning this over behind their goggles, “That’s too bad. I would have liked to help.”

“Not sure you would.” He says, thinking of lips, and spit, and shared breath. Thinks of Hange’s hygiene. Thinks of how they’d struggle to get through it without laughing.

“That’s weird. How did you figure it out? I’ve never heard of an illness that is cured by physical contact…”

“Don’t get any ideas - you’re coming nowhere near me with your scalpel.”

Hange’s brows draw together. They chew on the inside of their cheek.

“So…just Erwin, then?”

“Huh?”

“Erwin had to apply to overrule the medical board’s verdict. To see you. Then you made a quick recovery. So, Erwin?”

Levi sits back down. Heavily. “Yeah. Erwin.”

A grin grows, slowly and menacingly, on their face.

“What are you smiling about?”

“You need to touch the Commander to be better? That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m glad you find this so funny. At least someone does.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just…”

“What?”

“You know…his presence, that made you feel better?”

“It didn’t make me feel better. It made me feel humiliated. And annoyed. It just made the fever go away. I wouldn’t make this shit up.”

The smile falls slowly from their face. “No. You wouldn’t.”

“So it’s a problem. I don’t care how I got it. What are the chances I caught it off someone, really? All that matters is…managing it. That’s what Erwin wants.”

“Right. Well, how do you feel now? Now that he’s not here?”

Levi shrugs. “Tired. I get headaches. I lose my appetite. It’s a fucking - “

He takes his hand off his teacup, to stop himself breaking it.

“It’s a fucking joke.”

“If it’s bad for you to be away from him, perhaps you should -”

“I’m getting through it, Hange. I’m not some…” He shifts in his chair, uncrosses his legs, wants to snap and snarl, but reins it in, “I’m not some parasite that needs to leech off him. I don’t need him looking after me. He’s got enough on his mind, and so do we, so drop it.”

“Alright. Would you like my help with the symptoms then? I could get Moblit to mix you something?”

“I’m on poppy milk. From the hospital. Anything stronger would dull my instincts.” He says, rubbing the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes against the candle light. 

“So you want me to help figure out why, right? That’s why you told me?”

Yeah, that’s why he told them. But also because they are his friend, and he believes he can trust them. If it gets worse, they’ll need to know why. And with the exception of some ribbing, Levi thinks they’ll take it seriously. 

“If you can.”

“And it started…”

“Out of nowhere. After the last mission to retrieve Eren from the Armored and Colossal.”

“Hmm.” Hange stares down at the table, taps their finger. “I could come up with a hypothesis. Gimme a few days. And answers my questions. Honestly. ”

“Alright.”

“And if you start to get worse, we’ll call Erwin.”

“He - “

“Wouldn’t want you to die when he could prevent it.”

“I’m not going to die -“

“Well I’m glad you’re so sure.”

They bristle. Levi stares at the dregs of his tea, hot with embarrassment, jaw tight.

Silence for a few seconds, and then they say “Have you discussed it with him?” 

“Not at length. Enough. He knows, or at least, knows as much as I do. Smug bastard figured it out himself.”

“Of course.”

Levi stands, takes his cup to the sink, puts it down with a clink. He watches the kids through the window. Brauss and Springer are aggravating Kirstein again. They cackle at his tormented expression. Arlert pats his arm. Ackerman smiles gently, arms tucked close, chin in her scarf. She glances up at the top window - where Jaeger sleeps - and then down at the bottom one, directly at Levi. She looks embarrassed. He nods, and turns away.

000

Two days later, Lev wakes in a hot flush in the middle of the night.

He stumbles outside, lacking his usual stealth and instead crashing into the table, bursting through the back door. He catches his breath on the filthy ground, wet with dew, against the exterior wall of the cottage. 

He’d been dreaming of Pixis, of low lamp light, and of children. Ink stains on too-small hands. He’d seen Erwin’s Bell House, in its nest of ruin. He’d woken with tears on his cheeks.

“Fuck…” He knocks his head back against the wall, panting, feeling the heat creeping up his neck. It feels like he’s been running all night. His legs ache. The throbbing comes. Creeping in like the morning mist, clouding over his eyes. He can’t catch his breath, like he’s forgotten how to breathe entirely. 

His hands shake as he heads back inside, pours himself a glass of water. It sears down his throat. He can feel it stirring his stomach. He manages to get a few paces into the forest before he’s sick.

He feels like he might burst a blood vessel, heaving until there is nothing left, just water and bile, ripped from him like he’s being purged of something. It hurts. He’s suddenly far too cold, shivering and sweating in his night clothes. He struggles to his feet, muddy and wretched, wipes his mouth, sees red.

Huh. That’s new. There’s blood on his lips.

Hange almost screams when he enters their room, unannounced. The kids are sleeping down the hall. He’s trying to be quiet but he feels off-balance, uncoordinated. He hates it.

“What is it?!” He must look atrocious. They’re on their feet and forcing him to sit down in seconds. His vision is blurry. Two Hange’s peer at him with muted terror.

“Something’s wrong. Something’s coming.” He says.

“You’re sick again. I’m gonna write to Erwin -”

“No point,” Levi mumbles, speaking without thinking, “He’s gone. They’ve got him.”

“Who?” Hange asks, eyes huge, lips quivering. They hold him by his upper arms.

Levi feels the strength leave him entirely. The room goes black.

The enemy is inside the Walls.

Goodbye, Levi. Be careful with yourself.