The next few days were, for Mikasa, a mess of fierce apprehension and will. Whenever he passed by she refused to look at him, but her eyes threatened to burst from the strain of trying to see him nonetheless. Yet the two of them continued about their business. He attended meetings, she sat with her classmates at meals; they went on patrol, they trained in the yard—concurrently, one day, which was uncomfortable. Eld was jogging together with him while she sparred with Eren and Reiner, surreptitiously tracking Levi's position along the perimeter for the better part of an hour. Neither addressed the other.

Though time passed uneventfully, he still showed signs of despondency. On multiple occasions she had seen members of his squad attempting to talk to him, nearly having to resort to shouting to gain his attention. The extra darkness under his eyes hadn't lifted, and he walked as if a great weight burdened his limbs. She didn't think it was the mission that troubled him; when asked about it he was fully engaged, his voice rich with authority and answers. At these times especially he didn't look unwell, so it didn't seem to be a physical issue. There was just something on his mind.

This scatterbrained disposition made him no less intimidating. When the third night rolled around, she was a stolid knot of nerves. She knew he wasn't expecting anything of her, but she'd made a promise, and dumb as it was, she was of a mind to keep it. Mikasa didn't like being underestimated.

She stood in the busy hallway after dinner, channeling him to keep calm—leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed—yet still feeling crazy. When she spotted him split off from his comrades, she slipped into the thinning crowd and followed at a distance. She had no illusions about surprising him; he certainly would know she was tailing him. But she did wish to maintain a semblance of discretion.

Levi refrained from acknowledging her until he reached the door to his quarters, which he held open to let her through, bowing sardonically. Immediately her temper spiked.

He moved to light the oil lamps while she stood by uneasily, hugging her arms against the room's chill. Even in such simple actions he commanded attention; the smooth uprightness of his back, the conservative movement of his solid frame, the tendons in his neck flickering in and out of sight. It was almost funny to watch such a powerful creature tame his strength to perform mundane tasks. It was like watching a mountain lion strike matches.

Once the globe had been placed back over the final oil lamp, his arms crossed against his chest.

He waited.

Mikasa's skin burned under the pressure of his stoic gaze. "Don't get the wrong idea," she mumbled.

He didn't move.

While the thought had admittedly consumed her, she hadn't come here to touch him again (though she wanted to, but she didn't want to). She had been most compelled to understand what was bothering him. Mikasa stepped forward, and he dropped his arms hesitantly, almost skittish. It felt strange, frightening, seeing him so unsure. "You still haven't told me what's wrong."

"I owe you nothing."

"Has anyone else even noticed?" He didn't answer, so Mikasa assumed not. "Maybe I am the only one who understands you."

"Don't be so conceited. It's not—"

She cut him off with an embrace, her arms secreted between his jacket and his shirt, dizzy with the light musky scent of his clothes. His arms came around her as well, though with little affection; it was probably just less awkward for him than standing there like a post.

Absently she listened to him ramble on without really registering the words, instead feeling them as vibrations in his chest: "Listen, it may seem that way, but you only know dopes your own age. Among them, yeah, maybe you're the only one. But adults with any sense understand me. And they're busy with their own shit, they don't waste time trying to get—"

This time she silenced him with her mouth on his. She had no idea what she was doing anymore. The sensations in her body blurred her thought; the line between I hate him and I need him was fine, both positions fueled by the same passion.

Then it clicked—she didn't have to like him to want him.

At that her kiss became more assertive, and he responded in kind, a low sound like a growl emanating from his throat. They were a rush of hands and heavy breathing, jackets soon stripped away; when he gripped her hair more strongly than she liked, she stamped a foot and pressed hands to his chest, but instead of pushing him back she drew him in as though her palms were magnets. He started to advance, pressing the length of his body against hers, erasing all her thoughts like a splash of ink across printed words. She tested the limits of her daring, smoothing over every inch of his hair and neck and shirt and damn it if that harness wasn't always in the way. Surprisingly she had undone all the belts on his upper half before he tore himself away from her.

Levi stood back, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. He sniffed determinedly, grabbing handfuls of her jacket off the floor and shoving it into her chest. She barely caught hold of it before he let go. He'd been left a bit weak-kneed but was unperturbed by her savage glare. "Go on," he said, tilting his chin to the door.

In a mad whirl she left him again, still lacking the answers she'd wanted and more confounded than ever.

Levi's hands balled as his door slammed shut; there had been a lot of that lately. He stepped close, staring hard at the heavy wooden slab as if to pick an argument, but turned around and rolled his shoulders against it to satisfy an itch through his shirt.

That was way too fucking close. He thought if he rushed things forward, pressed too hard, she'd feel overwhelmed and panic. But the girl had only been emboldened, and he had almost lost himself.

His next approach would have to be more subtle.

Even with the influx of new recruits, so few were their numbers and so spacious the old castle that they had been allowed the option to occupy their own rooms. Many had chosen to live with roommates anyway, accustomed as they were to each other and to sharing space. Though it meant inhabiting the dungeons, Mikasa was determined to share her living quarters with Eren.

So within an hour of their arrival, she had gone straight to Levi.

"You think that will happen, huh."

He was leaning back in his chair in the basement mess hall, his soft, rolling voice echoing through its every dusky corner. Steam poured out from under his hand, flat atop a cup of tea. He looked almost serene. But Mikasa remembered. The phantom smell of Eren's blood on Levi's immaculate clothes left a snarl on her upper lip.

"You owe him that much," she said, "to let him be near someone that actually cares for him."

He huffed incredulously into his cup as he drank. "I've already given him his life, how much more does he deserve?"

"That's what you think, is it?"

He paused. "I see Shadis failed to teach you respect. Are all the new recruits so insubordinate?"

"Will you beat me into submission, too?"

"I really only find it's effective in front of an audience." It was sarcastic, but not without a hint of honest malice. Mikasa shuddered.

"So you admit that your . . . performance did your public image a great deal of good."

Levi shrugged. "Good PR is hard to come by in the Survey Corps. We take what we can get."

"Ah. So that's your excuse."

He leaned forward menacingly, and Mikasa found herself shrinking back in response. "The world isn't black and white, Ackerman. Many things led to what happened in that courtroom. Stop talking like you've found the one true reason for it all."

The captain's sudden spate of gravity proved that his general abrasiveness was a conscious choice—likely for no other reason than to rile people. He'd been working her. And she'd been letting him do it. Mikasa closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, silently. She hated this man, yes, but she needed his favor as well, so she would have to swallow her instinctive hostility. "Fine. But my request still stands."

"So does my denial."

"Why?"

"You truly need me to tell you why?"

"Just so we're clear," she said acerbically, already forgetting to curb her animosity.

His eyes floated upward, equally annoyed. "You're not on my squad, so you're not my responsibility."

"You won't have to take responsibility for me."

"I would if Eren fucked up and went berserker down here." She was silent. "You can't prove to me that he won't."

"I can take care of myself."

"You can't prove that either."

"I was first in my class."

"Don't care. I still can't give you special treatment."

"But he's my family." Mikasa barely heard her own words; the thought was enough. She blinked the heat back from her eyes, but she couldn't stop the quivering of her lips.

The truth was, this wasn't just for Eren's sake. She needed this. So great was the depth of her debt to him and so little did she have, standing by him was the only remuneration she knew. Mikasa was always filled with a blend of compulsions that vacillated between her honor-bound duty to Eren and her selfish need to repay him. The difference was subtle, and maybe not all that important. But maybe so. Was it selfish if it benefited him too? Did intent sully the deed? It was as Levi said: not all black and white.

His response now wasn't as quick, and he spoke more gently. "I understand. But he's the special one. Not you."

"That's not completely true," she argued, sniffling but relieved that she had a tangible point to contend. "When he 'fucks up', as you say, it's just as important for me to be there to talk him down and avoid drastic measures that could kill him."

"About that," he said curiously. Her stomach jumped; he was calling her bluff. "I heard something interesting about what happened at Trost." He stared hard at her, waiting for her to falter, but she had seen his rebuttal coming and masked her gut reaction well enough. Seeing that she wouldn't relent on her own, he watched his palm pat the rim of the teacup, patiently, grating her with silence. The wound healing on her cheek tickled painfully. "You want to remind me what happened at Trost?"

Still, she wouldn't lie. "Not particularly."

"I didn't think so." He sat back again, comfortably sipping from under his hand. "I have no need for someone who fails at her self-proclaimed job, knowing that she'll do everything to obstruct my militarily-appointed job."

"Which is to kill our only asset—"

"One extremely variable asset." For a moment she heard valuable, but no, variable was just as accurate. "You might not like it, but at least we know that drastic measures work every time. And I get the feeling he's not as irreplaceable as we all think, so I personally don't give a shit if he gets killed."

"Don't you think that's irresponsible?"

"God damn it, do you take everything that comes out of my mouth at face value?" He exhaled shortly. "I care, but he's not my priority. Those are my orders, and I'm going to try to follow them as long as I can. But when things go to shit, by instinct I'm going to do what keeps my squad and my corps alive. I know their worth. I know their skills, I know their reactions and their loyalty. That makes them much more valuable to me than some kid I don't know with powers I don't understand."

"So you just fear what you don't understand."

"You fear me, don't you?"

She looked at him closely now; he was a jerk, and he was bad with people, but he understood them.

"I appreciate your concern," he said dismissively. "But no, you'll not live with my squad."

Mikasa stared at her feet, feeling very small and childish. She blinked several times before nodding stiffly.

"Furthermore—for your own good I suggest you loosen your ties to him." She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand to stay her. "I'm not saying you have to quit him entirely. But know that he doesn't determine your worth. If I've heard right, you have far more potential as a soldier than he does. That potential will never be realized until you can operate independent of him." He let the words settle in the echoes of the room, before speaking softly. "Do you understand?"

Damn, she thought. It all rang a little too true for comfort. Mikasa could hate him all she wanted, but he was every inch correct.

She let out a shaky breath and nodded grimly. "Yes sir." Sensing the discussion concluded, she turned to leave.

"One more thing," said Levi. "I advise you not to take a roommate at all." Irked, she pivoted to face him but was seized by the stark unhappiness gracing his curved brow. "If you plan on staying alive, get used to doing it alone."

Reluctantly she had not only accepted his verdict that day, but also taken his advice. And Mikasa was now thankful for the privacy afforded by living alone, because when she returned to her room the night before the expedition, Levi was leaning next to the window with an air of great entitlement. A small table stood below the window, and one little candle was lit, a dim, phlegmy orange flickering across his pale clothes. Without the harnesses lashed across his lissome frame, he seemed naked. She blushed, which only compounded her anger at the fact of his unsupervised presence.

"I'm surprised you're not snooping," she said, caustic.

He shrugged. "I didn't find anything interesting."

Mikasa closed her eyes, listening to the dry breaths in her throat to keep calm. "You really have no shame."

"That sounds odd, coming from you."

"At least I didn't sneak into your quarters while you were gone."

"And at least I haven't come to seduce you."

She reddened again at the thought of her behavior just the day previous; lately her mind had been slipping. She hated that she wanted this man so badly, but she wasn't confident that she hated him anymore. And she hated that too. "So you're breaking your promise?"

"Yes."

She watched him suspiciously. He showed no discomfort; he made no move, and his expression didn't change. Her oppressive glare sure didn't sway him. "Then why are you here?" she challenged. "There's no other reason—"

"I should say," he amended, "not exactly."

"What, then?"

"It's all up to you."

She felt her entire body alight with baffling embarrassment. She had already been putting the moves on him, and unabashedly; why did it feel impossible now that he'd said it?

Levi watched with a curious eye as she instead crossed the room to sit on the edge of her bed. Primly she folded her hands in her lap. With decisive authority, she told him, "You can't go on this mission."

His shoulders remained against the wall, but his head tilted. "Excuse me?"

"Something's wrong. You've been acting strange and I don't think you should go out there."

She kept her eyes low as he shifted his weight forward and approached, close, knees almost touching hers. His hands were on his hips, slim white fingers curled like honeysuckle. "Do you see anything wrong with me?"

"You're lying." She shook her head. She reached out and took his wrists, cupping the smooth backs of his hands in her palms. "You're lying."

He deflected her accusation, distracting her with hands at the sides of her neck, thumbs caressing along her jawline. For reasons she didn't understand, her stomach twisted at the sight of him looking down at her. He now stood with his knees pressing hers together; his head fell almost lazily toward her as he initiated a kiss. It was much softer than the day before, its tenderness fine-tuning her to feel the twitch of his lips on hers.

Her impatience flared again when he stopped, but he only went back to shut the door, slowly, the familiar sounds of it painfully loud in Mikasa's head; the long creak as it swung closed, the clatter of the mechanism catching.

Then he slid his shirt off over his shoulders—and he was far less lean than she expected. The sinewy muscles across his stomach moved in careful concert as he stepped toward her again, and as the distance between them narrowed, countless scars slowly became visible all over the canvas of his skin, tiny ridges and valleys of shadow in the candle light.

In a moment it struck her that she wasn't dealing with one of her peers—boys who had not filled out as adults, whose strength lay in stamina, the simple vigor of youth—but with a man, some stranger, whose strength lay in precise and seasoned skill. A man who had lived her life and over again.

He kissed her again, but this time she understood the weight of what came next. Suddenly she shrank away and hid her face. Levi's hands remained on her shoulders, but he didn't move otherwise. He stood there so calm and knowing that she wanted to pelt him with her fists, but she was too embarrassed to lift her head and she was crying and she just hated this so much. All she could do was lie down and let the tears come. She hardly noticed that he lay down behind her, hugging her to his scarred chest, because she was crying for the parents who loved her and Eren's parents and Eren and Levi and all their friends and this awful, terrible, sad world. She cried until the candle burned out, until she fell asleep to the gentle sensation of his breath on the back of her neck, the insistent heat of his arm across hers.

Mikasa woke in the middle of the night and immediately sensed the absence beside her. A new candle had been lit; Levi was pulling his shirt back over his head. She sat up.

"I'm coming with you," she stated.

"You're not."

Normally she might contest the assertion, but what he had said wasn't bitter, didn't snap; it was filled with such sincerity, his voice so low with knowing, that she felt herself go limp. He noticed, and sighed. "You have to take responsibility for your emotions."

She tensed a bit, refusing to make eye contact, so he sat back down next to her; slowly, as though his aches had been magnified in sleep. Her eyes widened at his effort and she opened her mouth to protest, but he held a finger to his lips; it affected her as though he had made contact with hers instead. He couldn't fight like this. He was too vulnerable, and he must have known it. Why? Why can't you let me help you?

"Because I'm not the one you're sworn to protect."

"But you'll be with Eren anyway. It's where I belong."

He was wearing a slight smirk, but it didn't match the sadness, the humility, in his eyes. "Just face it. You don't have room for me."

He stood again, and she felt like a fish gaping for water. His back still to her, he said, "Maybe one day. . . ." The words ended in a breathless exhale. She wanted so badly to hear the condition, the effect that it would have, but there was resignation in his whisper. "You'll have forgotten me by then."

What was this nonsense? Who alive would ever forget Levi?

He parted the bangs over her face, leaned in, and gave her the gentlest kiss on the forehead before turning to leave her room for the first and last time.