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It was said, whispered under the breath of the youngest recruits, that Captain Levi Ackerman moved like he had wings.
He didn’t, of course. He was human, bound by human limitations – physiology included.
That’s not to say he didn’t have a certain awareness when it came to birds. And was perhaps, even a little jealous of the freedom that came with flight. Sometimes he’d watch them pass overhead and with a flap of their wings, effortlessly flutter over him, the wall, the heads of titans – just as Isabel’s bird had flown, escaping from the underground city, all those years ago.
But he’d never wished for flight – not really. His body, trained and sculpted through years of work, had learned to spin in effortless maneuvers, 3D gear whirring at his ears. He didn’t need flight; he’d achieved the next best thing.
No, he’d never wished for flight – not until that day upon the wall. When despite his training - all his skill - he realized: he wasn’t going to be fast enough.
They’d repelled down the wall – a decoy, to draw in the titans. He’d run along the wall’s side, his boots tapping lightly against the stone. Hanji sprinted, no more than a step behind, her euphoric shouts a chaotic accompaniment to the cannon fire above.
The plan was working, which was no surprise. As much as he liked to give her shit, when four-eyes sat still long enough to come up with a plan, it usually went off without a hitch.
But no matter how perfect the plan, there was always a variable or two that couldn’t possibly be accounted for.
In this case, it was a single cannon improperly loaded.
An explosion tore through the air.
Rocked by the blast, the wall shuddered as bits of stone rained down, deadly missiles.
Bending his knees, he kicked out, pushing off from the wall. Shards of rock whistled past. Swinging back, he heard it – a strangled noise, not quite a gasp.
A panicked shout from atop the wall was his warning. He looked up – nothing. Then down.
It took a second to process, so unexpected was the sight. Despite the names he liked to tease her with: “clumsy giant” and “shit-for-vision”, in action, Hanji was as quick and graceful as they came.
Shaken free, the steel grappling cable snaked past, whipping at the air. Beneath it, Hanji fell. Head knocked back and arms dangling loose at her sides, she dropped, unconscious.
He didn’t think. Instincts honed sharper than a knife’s edge commanded his limbs to move.
Release. Pivot. Dive.
With ice in his chest and chill seeping through his veins, he dropped.
Above, canons continued to fire. Against the blood rushing in his ears, their thuds were muted, distant. Beneath him, a dirty, green cloak fluttered. Goggles glinted, catching the light. Not much further below, Titans and unforgiving stone waited.
His feet pounded against the wall, and he pushed to gain momentum. In his head, a traitorous voice whispered: You won’t make it. Humanity’s strongest – how many titans have you killed? A lot of good it did you. You’re still not fast enough to save her.
The voice, a lovechild of doubt and loathing, had been born in that room which stank of death, and nurtured in the city that never saw the sun. The last time it spoke he’d been riding frantically through fog and rain: You shouldn’t have left them. You’ll never get back in time. Surely by now the titans will have got them-
Enough. Gritting his teeth, he willfully drove it out. Here, now, he couldn’t afford to listen.
Amid the pop of canons, the two figures fell through the air; one tumbling, the other angled in a dive. Time seemed to slow.
Boots tapped against the wall, a pounding, syncopated rhythm that offset the beating of his heart.
Tap. Thump.
Dark hair fluttered, obscuring her face.
Tap. Thump.
A titan’s jaw dropped. Its pink, fleshy mouth gaped impossibly wide.
Tap. Thump.
The blade slipped from his fingers, forgotten, as he thrust his shoulder forward, reaching.
Tap. Thump.
Splayed fingers stretched out. Almost.
Tap. Thump.
His fingertips brushed rough fabric.
There!
His hand closed, clenching over the coat – and pulled. His feet slid, scraping over stone. Snapped taught, the thin cable hummed. His body jerked and his fingers squeezed, straining to keep hold of her.
He dangled, chest heaving. One arm stretched up, bracing the steel line and the other down, holding his precious charge by the corner of her coat.
No more than a meter below, the titan’s glassy gaze followed them as they swung to and fro.
He released the cable and reached for her, spinning haphazardly on his hip. His hand closed firmly over her wrist, and his heart gave a stuttered beat. Bracing his feet against the wall, he lifted the limp woman up and into his arms.
Tucked partially in the crook of his arm, her head lolled to the side, falling against his shoulder. Dipping his chin, he tried to get a look at her.
Her left goggle was cracked. Beneath his chin, he could feel where her hairline was matted, wet and sticky with blood. Her lips were parted and when he felt a warm puff of air, her breath, against his collar, something in his chest loosened, and he could once again breathe. She was knocked out - but alive.
Grunting, he reached for his gear, all the while holding her tight against his chest. For being nothing but skin and bones, the woman wasn’t light. Working to line up a shot, he muttered against her hair. “Shit, four-eyes. What did you eat for breakfast? A brick?”
Of course, she didn’t answer. She was out cold.
He said it more for his own benefit than anything. He was so used to giving her shit, he supposed now it was a coping mechanism, of a sort. It kept him occupied. Away from thoughts of the titan below. Of how quickly she would have dropped that last meter.
“Hold on.”
With the grappling hook fired, they shot up. As he crested the top of the wall, ready hands pulled them over.
As he stumbled onto the ramparts, she was jostled and a brown journal slipped from her jacket. It bounced against the ground, coming to land at his feet. It must have been loosened from its pocket when he caught her.
He frowned, tapping it with his toe. What was the idiot doing carrying her research with her now? It was a miracle it didn’t slip out on the way up.
“Squad Leader Hanji!”
He should have expected Moblit’s panicked shout. The guy was never far off, especially when Hanji found herself in harms way. In all likelihood, he was the source of the cry that drew Levi’s attention to Hanji’s peril in the first place.
When Moblit reached for her, calling over his shoulder for aid, Levi tried to suppress his growing annoyance. The man was just doing his job.
Even with Moblit supporting most of Hanji’s weight, Levi didn’t completely relinquish his hold. As they laid her out, he cupped the back of her head, making sure it didn’t bump against the stone. When the medic dropped beside her, he reluctantly stood.
Below, the medic peeled up her goggles. Careful hands felt at her head.
Turning away, he ignored the voice (this one much different than the first) that urged he stay – at least long enough to see her eyes open. But that was stupid. His staying wouldn’t help one way or the other. He wasn’t a medic.
Forcibly ignoring the rather persistent tugging in his gut, he marched back to the wall’s edge. Shit-for-eyes would be fine. She’d survived worse.
His most immediate concern was the remaining titans. After that, he was going to find the fucker who’d improperly loaded the cannon.
“What’s the status on the titans?”
The nearest soldier, a young corporal, raised her hand in a quick salute. “Captain. Less than one third of the titans remain. We are continuing to fire upon them.”
Almost done then. “Call half the soldiers back up. Concentrate fire on the remaining titans. When less than a sixth remain, send down the second half of the soldiers to finish them off.”
She nodded sharply. “Yes sir.”
“And corporal - point me towards the soldier responsible for the explosion.”
If he hadn’t happened to be right beside Hanji when she fell, they’d be continuing this war minus humanity’s smartest soldier. His hands squeezed at his sides. If the bastard responsible for the near-disaster hadn’t died in the explosion, he would soon wish he had.
The young corporal took an involuntary step back. Swallowing, she pointed towards a man near the ruined cannon. A bloodstained bandage was wrapped around his head and white gauze covered his hands.
“Todd McMiller, sir.”
“Todd McMiller, huh?” He said the name, trying it out on his tongue. Todd was a dead man.
The injured soldier looked up. Upon meeting Levi’s gaze, he started. His eyes immediately grew wide and round. Levi stepped forward, and the man drained of color.
He’d only taken a couple steps when a panicked gasp froze him to the spot.
Behind him, the medic soothed. “Hanji Zoe, it’s alright. You’re safe. You’re on the wall.”
The responding voice was sluggish, but verging on panic. “Where is it? Where’d it go?”
It sounded like shitty glasses had a concussion after all. He narrowed his eyes. Shoulders shaking, Todd shrunk back.
Meanwhile, the medic responded, clearly confused. “Where’s what?”
Hanji was only becoming more agitated. “It! It! The accumulation of all my work from the last five years!” She’d begun to pant.
And just like that, “Operation kill Todd” dropped in priority. Before turning, he fixed the soldier with a cold stare. Hanji may have earned the asshole time, but Todd was still going to get what was coming to him.
Scooping up the dirty journal, he made his way back. By now, there was a medic on either side of her, restraining her as she tried to rise.
“Oi! Four-eyes. Up here.”
When she’d stopped struggling long enough to look up, he dropped the journal in her lap.
Eager hands snatched up the book. Such was her relief that she immediately dropped back, hugging the journal to her chest. Hands that had seconds ago restrained her, rushed to catch her before her head could strike the ground.
Once she was settled back, he waved the medics away. “I’ll take it from here.”
She stared up at him, a big, stupid smile on her face. Her hand brushed back and forth, stroking the journal’s leather cover.
The longer he stared down at her, the wider her smile became. Finally she spoke, her voice awed. “Levi. You’re amazing.”
Of all the possible reactions, that was the last he would have expected. He blinked, and promptly averted his eyes. Levi Ackerman didn’t blush. Especially in response to stupid things said by ridiculous scientists.
“You saved my research!”
“Your research-” And just like that, all embarrassment was gone. “I saved your life!”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Life shmife. All of my work is in this baby!” She tapped the journal, pleased.
A pulse pounded behind his eyes. “You’re insane.”
Hugging the journal, she beamed.
He turned on his heel. “Come find me when you’re no longer concussed.”
“Levi! Don’t go!” She dragged out the last vowel. The sound was so pitiful that he actually did pause.
“For this one act, I’ll love you forever!”
His shoulders hunched as he hissed over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, four-eyes! Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”
“I totally mean it, oh savior of my research! I’ll settle down with you, bear your children-”
“Oh my god.”
With hands clenched at his sides, he marched away to the sound of her cackling laughter.
“Next time I’ll let you fall!”
It was a stupid thing to say. Of course he wouldn’t.
Apparently she was of the same mind. “Alright, love you!”
The stupid, insane, reckless woman was going to be the death of him, and damn it if he didn’t love her too. Scowling, he made a beeline for Todd.
Years later the younger soldiers still talked about it: the day Captain Levi Ackerman flew – or very nearly, and Squad Leader Hanji Zoe professed her love – kind of.