Chapter Text
After the defeat of the Titans, expansion beyond the walls is a slow, apprehensive task. It takes time for people to accept that the Titans are really gone, that humanity is safe once more. The political mess that’s left behind in the wake of the royal family’s exposed secrets only serves to further impede progress in reclaiming territory in the world.
Hanji Zoe is named the 14th Commander of the Survey Corps exactly two weeks after humanity’s victory, though under her command, the Corps evolves into a group of pioneers and explorers, voyaging to even the most extreme of environments to document the endless possibilities in the reclaimed world. (It has to be said however, that most of this work is done by Moblit, her now-fiancé, while Hanji cultivates her newfound fascination with compounds found in exotic plants, developing a branch of chemistry she calls “organic.”)
Most of the original members of the Survey Corps remain, including the Shiganshina trio, though Armin is one of the first leaders of the Policy faction which plans courses of action for the just distribution of new territory to middle-class citizens. Jean Kirchstein joins the Military Police, active in the dynamic reformation of the corrupt system. Sasha Braus and Connie Springer stay with the Corps for a year, then open a homely, incredibly-popular restaurant on the outskirts of Wall Maria. The Corps frequent the restaurant, and Sasha is always more than happy to serve them the baked potato-and-beef special on the house.
Erwin Smith, now more widely celebrated than despised, retires quietly; disappears after bidding only the closest of comrades farewell. It’s a curious thing that he disappears right after the victory, that he does not stay to savour the triumph he has strived towards for his entire adult life. Rumours circulate of course, for peacetime complacency is the eager sire of wagging tongues. But Erwin Smith isn’t called humanity's greatest strategist for nothing; he’s covered up his tracks well, and for years there’s no trace of him at all.
The first thing Levi does after he’s granted leave from the Survey Corps is visit the Underground. Hanji encourages – no, nearly forces leave upon him, saying that he needs the break, needs to find peace after all he’s gone through. (He suspects however, for good reason, that the true reason she wants him gone is so that she can work uninterrupted in her laboratory without him snatching away dirty beakers and cleaning them out.)
Friends from his former life keep a space for him in the Underground even after all these years, allowing his meagre belongings to lie untouched but by time. Among them, there are really only three items he treasures, three he truly cares about.
One is a handkerchief, embroidered in looping cursive with his mother’s initials, K.A. A present from his father to her before he’d stopped going to the brothel at which she’d worked, leaving her with the weighty burden of bastard son and an even weightier broken heart. She had died seven years later of the plague that had swept through the Underground, and Levi had taken the handkerchief from her corpse just before her body had been tossed into a mass burial site. He had watched as the body had flopped like a rag-doll, limbs askew at impossible angles.
The other two items are small stoppered pots, crude paint chipped. The smaller one is mahogany; the larger, a light brown. Over the years the little fissures in the paintwork have blossomed, branched intricately over all the surfaces, but the clay underneath is thankfully intact.
These two pots hold Isabel and Farlan – at least, cremated remains of them that the Survey Corps had managed to salvage. Their ashes had given to Levi because there was nobody else to whom they could be given.
Levi takes these three items with him. After consulting with Zackley, he’s permitted by the state to leave the walls. For the first time, he doesn’t don the emblem of the Survey Corps on his shoulders as he steps out through the gates.
It’s a hollow feeling.
--
He gives himself two months to find the best locations.
He takes his gear with him; it’s not because it really helps him scale the barren mountains or the rocky cliffs, nor is it because he fears to be outside the walls without his maneuverability. The gear has become an integral part of him, yet a part he knows is intimately tied with all the grief in his life.
This is the last time, he tells himself. This is the last time he’ll fly.
--
For his mother, the ocean. She’d always loved the feeling of baths, the few times she had had the opportunity to take them. He remembers being with her in the lukewarm waters, the rusting metal tub; he remembers the graceful spread of her dark, silky hair, floating timeless beneath the surface. He remembers being entranced by her husky voice, strains of foreign songs echoing against the tiled walls of the brothel’s washroom.
Levi takes his time there, alone as he is on the beaches. He takes in the sight of the fine white sand, the crash of frothy waters, the glimmer of sunlight reflected across the vast expanse. He takes off his boots, wades into the ice-cold waters and pokes with great suspicion at the strange green creatures attached to rocks that retract their appendages when touched. He ignores the coldness, the numbness of his feet, for these are small prices to pay.
When the night begins to fall, he wads up the handkerchief and tosses it into the ocean, watches as it drifts away, floating timeless on jagged waves.
--
For Isabel and Farlan, the skies. Of the many things that had brought Isabel joy, soaring through the air was one of the greatest. Though Farlan had never expressed quite the same enthusiasm, Levi knows that the sandy-haired boy would have wanted to be with Isabel.
It takes him a fortnight to trek to the top of the tallest mountain he can find; at the summit, the wind blows dreadfully hard, ruffles his hair in a poor imitation of what he used to do to Isabel. Below, a vast spread of green: overgrown trees sheltering woodland creatures. He can see Wall Maria, far off and tiny in the distance.
He unstoppers the pots, scatters their ashes to the unrelenting wind – he lets them fly free again.
::~::
He doesn’t stay away from the Survey Corps for long. He doesn’t know what else to do – hasn’t known anything beyond the Corps for over a decade.
Hanji is pleased to have him back, helping to train the cadets when his expertise is needed. The new kids are different: they’re complacent, they’re weak, and they have no sense of drive. They don’t feel the need to be quicker and stronger, because well –
“Why does it even matter?” one snarks to him after failing a basic maneuver. “There aren’t Titans around anymore.”
Levi stares at him, and the trainees who are a bit smarter recoil from the fury he emanates.
Later, he gets a stuttered apology from the boy, no doubt under Hanji’s orders.
But really, Levi isn’t quite sure what the cadet is apologizing for.
--
He gets restless at night; midnight comes and goes, but sleep is perpetually elusive.
It used to be easy: he would steal into Erwin’s office (for Erwin slept little, and left his office even less), lounge on the hard couch there that came to serve as Levi’s second bed. Erwin never said anything about it, not even the first time mere days after Levi had pointed a blade to his throat and cut into his skin. The quiet scratching of Erwin’s quill, the dry rustle of parchment – it lulled him into a state of peacefulness, drove both the intrusive thoughts and the emptiness out of his mind.
It had become a habit; these days he finds himself at the door of the Commander’s office, hand on the doorknob already before he realizes, remembers that Erwin hasn’t set foot in here in over a year.
Sometimes he leaves, hands fisted so tightly as he strides back to his room that little red crescents appear in his palms the next morning. Other times he pushes open the door, knowing Hanji isn’t likely to be in the office when she could be in her laboratory. He sits in that familiar couch, on the familiar hard cushions, in the familiar room, but all he can hear is his own breathing, and the sound of it makes him cringe, makes his fingers curl into claws against the velvet upholstery but that doesn’t stop them from trembling and trembling –
He leaves before Hanji can come back and find him shaking in her office.
--
There’s a banquet in Sina to celebrate the second anniversary of the Titans’ defeat. Levi’s invited as a guest of honour, and somehow Hanji convinces him to attend.
He regrets it the moment he steps out of the carriage, the heel of his boot clicking against polished white marble – standard, he thinks with no shortage of disgust, in Sina. A single square foot of this could probably feed a family of three for a week in the Underground.
Despite it being her fault he’s here, Hanji leaves him with little more than a wave of her hand, and Moblit rushes after her to stop her from going on about vivisections to the nobles. Levi settles in a corner of the ballroom, snatching a drink from one of the countless milling servers. He doesn’t know what’s in it, only that it burns as it goes down his throat. He gets only a few minutes of peace.
“You’re Levi, right? Humanity’s Strongest?”
Tall, gangly limbs. A messy mop of red hair. Levi eyes him dispassionately.
“It’s an honour to meet you – I’ve heard so much about you,” he says, and there’s something oddly familiar about the way he smiles, hazel eyes alight with reverence. The youth sticks his hand out, only to retract it awkwardly as Levi ignores it. His eyes are eager; undeterred, he goes on, “Could you tell me about your fight with the Female Titan? I heard you and that half-Japanese girl – Mika? Mikaso? – you two were unbelievable!”
There’s a small crowd starting to listen in; hungry eyes, ravenous for stories about the defeated monsters. They look at Levi like he’s prey – or worse, like he’s entertainment. Off to the side, Hanji seems to have noticed; she’s stopped talking about venule cannulations with the pale-faced noble beside her, and there’s grim concern in her eyes.
Levi pushes away from the wall, near-empty drink in hand. He leans in close to the youth’s ear.
“If you want to hear stories, I’ll tell you stories. I’ll tell you how the Titans ate our soldiers, tore their limbs out of their sockets, how comrades watched comrades die, screaming in agony. How they pleaded for mercy, screaming and begging in their last moments in this world. Because those are the stories I know. Those are the stories all the soldiers know. But, those aren’t the stories you want to hear, are they?”
He pulls away, notes the paleness of the youth’s face. Notes the appalled expressions of the other nobles who had been close enough to hear. Satisfaction runs through him, empty and cold and hard as he begins to walk away.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir,” comes the youth’s voice, thin. Meek. “It’s just … my big sister always spoke highly of you. I’m not sure if you remember her, but – she was on your squad. Her name was Petra.”
Levi freezes, and a chill runs through him.
The ballroom disappears – all he can see is the forest, enormous trees all around. Soft, filtered light illuminating Petra’s mangled corpse, her empty eyes – such a far cry from the lively, graceful girl –
Petra, hands clasped together in delight as she agrees – Yes, yes – thank you, sir! –that she’ll join Levi’s squad –
Petra, bickering and laughing with Auruo on horseback as they canter across the training field, not paying attention to the crannies in the ground –
Petra, grim determination on her face as she swings down, blades flashing across Titan flesh –
Petra, kneeling on the other side of the soldier’s body, bright tears in her eyes and sorrow in her voice as she tells Levi, He’s dead. I couldn’t save him –
Petra, telling Eren that he had made the right decision in trusting them.
“… wished that I knew how she had died, or at least how her killer had been captured, sir. Truly, I meant no offense.”
The ballroom comes back slowly in hazy patches. Levi stares at the imprint of his lips on the rim of the wineglass. He feels sick. There are tiny ripples in the amber liquid – he forces his hand to be still, forces it back under his control before he speaks.
“She was one of the finest soldiers I’ve had the privilege of leading. Her contributions were immense. Her legacy will not be forgotten.” The words sound hollow even to his ears. Meaningless to the girl whose smile would never grace a room again.
He hears the boy – Petra’s brother – with appreciation in his voice but the words pass through him – cut through him like those blades across the nape of a Titan’s neck –
He leaves as soon as the boy is done, holds himself together until he’s outside and far from the manor. With nobody but the moon and the stars to witness it, the wineglass drops from his hands, shattering. The liquid spills onto the white marble, dark as blood in the pale moonlight.
He can’t stop the shaking.
::~::
It’s another year before he starts to realize how long it’s been.
He knows that Erwin is outside the walls, for if he were within them Levi would have heard at least some whisper of his whereabouts, his condition.
He knows it’s stupid. He knows there are no more Titans, knows Erwin must be safe, knows Erwin is more than capable of fending off mere wildlife even if he does only have one arm –
Yet he can’t quash the fears.
Can’t stop himself from wondering if Erwin’s phantom pain has persisted (weeks after the incident, he’d been in pain so severe that Levi had had to stay with him those few nights), if he’s having trouble finding food (what with his one arm), if he’s able to prepare the food (Erwin hadn’t cooked a day in his military life), if he’s having regular bowel movements –
He can’t quash the fears, because he’d been by Erwin’s side for over a decade, protecting him, and the one time he’d left him had been the time Erwin had lost an arm and nearly died.
“It sounds like you’re worried about him,” Hanji says in one of her rare moments of sobriety. She looks up from her devil’s brew of the day: some brown, bubbling liquid in a rounded flask.
“I’m not worried,” Levi snaps. A reflex. “Who said I was worried about his shitty ass?”
Hanji sighs, though it’s probably directed more at her concoction, which all of a sudden stopped bubbling. “Look, Levi, if you’re so concerned about him, I can tell you where he’s gone as long as you keep it to yourself. Or I’ll let you know the next time he comes by.”
He forgets his feigned indifference. “He comes by?”
Behind the smudged lenses, Hanji rolls her eyes at the quickness of his response. “Of course he does. Occasionally, anyway – to restock on necessities. Do you think he uses leaves for toilet paper or something?”
Levi’s insides do a disgusted little shiver, and his facial expression elicits a laugh from Hanji.
But if Erwin had returned, why hadn’t he visited Levi? Why hadn’t there been any news of him whatsoever? Surely at least one soldier not sworn to secrecy, would have seen him; the news should have spread like wildfire. Had he spoken to others, and not Levi?
Levi’s insides shiver again, but this time it’s for an entirely different reason.
“Shit, hot, hot!” Hanji exclaims suddenly, nearly dropping the flask. The liquid is bubbling again; Hanji looks delighted despite the angry redness of her burned skin. “Moblit, get the ether! Quickly!”
Levi shows himself out before Hanji can burn down the entire laboratory with him inside.
--
The attitude of the general populace towards the Survey Corps had changed quickly after the Titans were eradicated. Civilians – middle-class citizens, farmers, and nobles alike – finally saw the outcome of decades of work, the end result of all the deaths they had all at one point deemed pointless and in vain.
Upon their return from the final expedition, the Survey Corps had been met with raucous cheers and endless praise. The younger soldiers had been overjoyed at the hero-worship – but for the veterans, it was little less than a slap in the face for every time they’d returned, hearts already heavy with grief for fallen comrades only to be met with jeers and threats, sometimes even rotting food thrown in their direction.
For Levi, what he could not forgive was how the commoners had targeted Erwin, calling him monster, inhuman, heartless. Yet they never understood him – will never understand him. Erwin is celebrated now, seen as the resilient, indestructible leader that had spear-headed humanity’s triumph.
Oh, but Levi has known all along that Erwin was simple to break.
--
Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and the other officers all help prepare a surprise party for Hanji’s birthday, and she only arrives on time because Moblit lures her away from the laboratory with mentions of a promising new compound they’d found in the intertidal zone off the coast.
She blinks owlishly behind her thick laboratory goggles when they shout “Surprise!” and duck out from behind cabinets and desks and closet doors.
A group of cadets accost her, marching her over to the birthday cake atop which thirty-five lit candles sit. Raucous singing breaks out soon after, and Levi mutters darkly to Mikasa, “The little shits already got into the alcohol.”
But the party goes on without a glitch. Hanji’s laughing hysterically after her fifth birthday shot at something Armin’s said, and soon Moblit’s trying to keep her from falling over. The cadets are drinking freely, dancing to the new-age music that Levi can’t stand. Mikasa smiles at him, rueful before Eren tugs her away onto the dance floor.
Levi doesn’t join in; keeps to the side, drink in hand. When the toasts commence, wishing Hanji a long, prosperous life and praising her as one of the most ingenious commanders to date, Levi stares at the rim of his glass. It’s completely still.
Idly, he wonders if Erwin would smiled as brightly as Hanji.
--
Later, Hanji whispers to Moblit, expression just a tad devastated, “So you didn’t actually find the anemone antioxidant?”
--
It’s almost dawn when they finish cleaning up.
Eren’s drunk as hell, and Mikasa bids Levi hasty goodnight before she and Armin haul him out, leaving Levi with just Hanji and Moblit. There are presents on a table, boxes and cards of all sizes and shapes for Hanji, who’s maintained her reputation as an eccentric, yet a trustworthy and kind leader.
Currently however, she’s giggling to herself on the couch, nursing her umpteenth drink; her fiancé, for whom Levi has never felt sorrier, looks frazzled as he cleans up the corner of the room where someone had been sick.
“Here,” Levi says, unceremoniously dropping an envelope into her hands. She accepts it with a hiccup, finishes off the drink before turning her attention to it.
When Hanji opens Levi’s present, her smile fades. Moblit looks up, frowns at Levi, misunderstanding.
“This is…” She picks up the photograph by the top corner, pinches carefully between her thumb and index finger. “That old picture of Erwin’s, isn’t it?”
“A copy. I found it in his possessions – there’s a place in Mitras now where you can make copies of photos.” He hesitates, not knowing what to say when Hanji’s quiet – she’s never this quiet. “It’s not much, I know –”
“No,” she murmurs, moisture gathering in her eyes. Levi doesn’t know where to look. “It’s everything.”
It’s a picture of the old Survey Corps officers that Erwin used to keep in his drawer. Levi had found it one day while cleaning, and since then Hanji had always teased Erwin about being a sentimental sap.
Erwin’s in the middle, with Mike and Dita on his left, Hanji and Levi, scowling because he hadn’t wanted to be in the picture, on his right; slightly behind them, Nanaba, Eld, Auruo, and little Petra, who has to stand on her tippy-toes to see over Hanji’s shoulders. Dita’s mare is chewing on his bandana, and his face is alight with amusement as he tries to tug it away from her. Mike’s not looking into the camera, body angled towards Nanaba like a sunflower seeking its light; Nanaba’s smiling, face rueful yet so very pleased.
They look so alive that it’s hard to believe that they’re all gone, save for himself, Hanji, and Erwin.
Only, sometimes Levi forgets that Erwin’s still alive.
::~::
It creeps up on him. He doesn’t realize until Mikasa points it out to him, after that he hasn’t gone drinking with them, not even when Jean was promoted to Squad Leader of the Stohess district.
The alcohol makes things worse, makes the shaking harder to control. It makes the memories surface more easily, makes something as simple as the redness of Mikasa’s scarf spark a whole slew of images in his mind – bloody hands reaching for him – gaping mouths – exposed muscle –
He holds it in.
“Even if you’re twenty now, you’re still a brat to me,” he glowers, not without great fondness. And then it slips out without him even noticing – “Erwin never went out with us, that old man.”
His jaw snaps shut. He’s gotten too comfortable, sometimes lets things slip around this girl. They’re similar, in some ways – stubborn, blunt, single-minded.
Mikasa looks at him then – really looks at him with understanding blossoming in those dark, piercing eyes of hers. Yet she doesn’t say anything, and Levi appreciates that more than she’ll ever know.
She looks away, offers his mare a sugar cube as he adjusts the bridle, making sure the reins aren’t tangled.
“Going out?” she asks, voice kept casual.
“Just to the fields.” The ones just outside the walls, the ones Mikasa knows he frequents these days.
“Alright.” She hesitates, hand brushing the mare’s nose. “Just … you’ll let us know, won’t you? When it’s time?”
His lips tighten. He braces his hands on the saddle, swinging his torso up with practiced grace. Mikasa moves only slightly to the side, still blocking the stable exit. “Hanji will forget about her shitty reports if I don’t remind her. She’ll leave the burner on in the lab or some dumb shit like that. She’ll forget to sleep. She’ll eat crap, and then not be able to shit for a week. She’ll –”
“Heichou,” Mikasa cuts across, despite how many times he’s told her he’s not her captain anymore. “Hanji has Moblit to take care of her. You’re not really thinking of her, are you?”
He digs his heels in. The horse snorts, pushes past Mikasa.
--
The clouds hang low, casting looming shadows over the yellowed grasses; tiny droplets of rain sting at his skin. The coldness has rendered his hands numb, but he can’t tell over his mare’s bumpy movements if they’re trembling.
As he urges her into a canter and lifts his hips off the saddle, the wind carding through his hair, his pulse racing, it almost feels as if he’s flying again.
Almost.
--
Levi gets the feeling that Hanji knows, as soon as he walks into the Commander’s office.
“You look like shit,” he says bluntly before she can say anything. “Why are you still awake?”
Hanji grins despite the dark circles under her eyes, elbows resting against the table. “Breakthrough with the antioxidant. With this, we might be able to prevent –”
“You should sleep,” he interrupts. But he doesn’t make any move to leave.
She regards him for a few long moments, then sighs, leaning back into the chair. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches forward, picks up the picture frame that sits on her messy desk; the newest addition to the clutter.
“When was the last time he came back?”
“Nearly a year ago now,” Hanji murmurs. “The time between visits have gotten longer.”
Since that last time, Levi hasn’t brought the topic up, hasn’t so much as mentioned Erwin save for that slip-up with Mikasa. He places the frame back on the desk, looks at Hanji, eye-to-eye.
“You said you know where he is.”
--
She gives him the map – a worn piece of parchment that dons Erwin’s messy left-handed scrawl.
“It’s all he left with us,” she says, rueful. “I don’t even know how accurate it is, because we’ve never tried to find him.”
“Thank you,” he says simply, folding the parchment lightly before tucking it away.
Just as he’s about to exit, Hanji speaks up again.
“Are you angry with him for leaving? For leaving you?”
“No,” he says, automatic, then hesitates. His hand, resting on the doorknob, is entirely still; under control. He says, more firmly, “No. It’s just something I need for myself. For closure.”
It’s always noisy in the mornings, raucous seagulls and crashing waves serving to wake Erwin up at the break of dawn. He doesn’t mind it though; he appreciates that he can enjoy the beauty of sunrise every day, looking out upon an endless expanse of water upon which weak rays of sunlight dance.
The first days here were difficult. Starting up the garden, adjusting the water filtration system, fixing the ancient, abandoned cottage to a useable standard – with his single arm, it’s been a struggle. But it was well worth the struggle to now be able to call this cove that he’d seen in his father’s books his home.
He doesn’t keep track of time anymore, just lives day to day with the rise and fall of the tides, the waxing and waning of the moon. So he doesn’t know how long he’s been away from civilization when there’s a sharp rap at his door.
It takes him a moment to realize that the appropriate course of action is to answer the door. He hesitates, retracts the hand that had reached for a paring knife on his counter.
There’s another rap on the door, louder this time, insistent.
He doesn’t have a peephole out of which he can look, because he never expected to have company, so gingerly, he opens the door.
For three heartbeats they lock eyes – ocean blue and coal grey. Then all the breath comes out of him in a hasty rush.
He hears his own incredulous voice, unrecognizably rough with disuse:
“Levi?”