Archive of Our Own

“Hushhh, Levi, I’m doing science things! Why’re you still here, anyway?”

He crosses his arms, unimpressed. “If you were a scientist, you wouldn’t be smearing that powder around like a toddler.”

In Hange’s defense, they’re wearing gloves. But that doesn’t mean much, taking into account the wrecked state of their lab, a step up from its average messiness with this work they’re doing.

Some of it reeks of frustration. Notes ripped from files and journals on the floor, besides packing peanuts, boxes (some marked and some not) taking up precarious space where they can. This and that, that and this.

The efforts Moblit is going to to organize is easily missed in the form of two filing cabinets stacked on one another, abandoned for now near the doorway which Levi leans in. There is no space to push them up against the walls. Not with various metal contraptions there, some on the counter which spans the length of the back wall, where Hange is “doing science things”. They’re working with some kind of contraption with a small spyglass, switching the lenses, switching the stage clips they inspect.

There’s no room to comfortably inhabit even if he wanted to. Both of them know he’s not here out of interest. Left with literally nothing to do for the rest of today, Erwin suggested checking on Hange while Moblit is out so that nothing explodes. Again.

Moblit should be back soon. Then Levi can go back to Erwin, and convince him to take a break with more success this time. He played hard-to-get when he failed: their parting was a roll of his eyes in response to Erwin’s coy request of a goodbye kiss if Levi were to drown in the rubble of Hange’s lab and never return.

He didn’t give in then. But he will later.

Thinking about Erwin is a compelling way to pass the time, but it makes Levi wish more and more that he was somewhere else.

So he re-observes. Hange separates more of that phlegm-colored dust, and sweeps it onto a slat they insert under the small scope.

Some new thing they’re inventing. He’s a little curious what it’s for, but asking guarantees imprisonment in the form of conversation for the foreseeable future, so he settles for knowing next to nothing. The bulk of what he knows is that it’s making a mess.

Hange groans in frustration and smacks the counter. Right before his eyes, he watches with disgust as a small heap of dust falls to the floor.

“If you’re going to have a tantrum, at least make sure you don’t lose your precious… whatever that shit is.”

They cry his name in a booming sigh, exasperated. “I do appreciate your constructive criticism most of the time, but that time isn’t now.”

They continue to mutter as they strip off their gloves, use impressive aim to cast them in a waste-bin feet away, and charge over to a box, sifting through it. “Maybe if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it at all. Sometimes, it’s like you were never taught manners.”

He tuts as he takes a fine cloth from his pocket and walks to the counter they just assaulted. “I know how to clean.”

“What about ‘please’ and ‘thank you’?”

That question goes ignored as he collects the random streaks of dust-powder using his hand, ushering it by cloth into one pile. It’s not much, but getting it all over the floor is killing him.

It has the consistency of a powder—suddenly and vividly he sees a memory of the Underground which he’d rather not remember—but it’s much stickier than it first appeared. The fine grains don’t disappear when he shakes his hand out over the sink.

Actually it stings a little. He knows of powder that stinks and drugs in the form of them, but none that actively hurt.

This all happens in the time it takes for Hange to heft what looks like a baking mixer back over. By that time, the skin on his wrist and palm is turning pink—some sort of rash.

They snap to attention. “No way—you didn’t touch that with your bare hands!”

“It’s just powder. How bad could it be?” he argues, but he’s not convincing himself.

“Bad! I don’t know for sure. These compounds have acidic properties, so I’m sure it stings. You don’t just… touch things!”

Hange drops the mixer down—deflating his fucking dust pile—and gestures frantically until he, glaring, displays his wrist.

“If you cleaned up a little—”

“No more arguing,” they sigh, and grab some fresh stretchy gloves from a box where the counter meets the wall. “It’s getting worse.”

Just in time, the pounding of his heart reaches his ears, and not entirely because he’s nervous. Something’s wrong. On top of the stinging now having worsened to burning, not only where the powder touched his skin, but something that digs its claws deeper than that. A sudden fever.

“Okay… I admit that was stupid of me… but what now? Like you said, it’s getting worse.”

“I don’t know! Like I said, I just came up with this compound. It’s more potent in its non-organic form.”

He snarls. “That’s not helping. If I can’t get you for this, Erwin will. So what the hell do we—”

“You’re not going to die!” they shout, with a ferocity so sudden it momentarily freezes them both. Hange is the scariest when they’re angry.

Levi stares at their crazed eyes. His own vision is separating, blurry and out of focus. Something is very fucking wrong.

They seize his forearm—he finds in shock that he can’t react fast enough to avoid them—and drag him to the metal sink. Their hand wraps all the way around his wrist. They turn a knob and ice-cold water begins battering his wrist. In a blink or sooner, the powder is gone, but they don’t let go.

The idea of several seconds or several minutes of this passing is impossible to gauge for him. His head feels unnaturally heavy on his shoulders, knees gone a little weak, untethered in a way. All he can focus on is what’s right in front of him—the bruising water and its ever-changing outline, a glimpse of Hange’s much more tan wrist beside their coat and blue gloves. The colors contrast strangely against the metal sink bottom. Squinting doesn’t help.

He feels his skin sweat—it’s hot in here. And in fact, he knows he’s going to pass out as static blots his vision and his stomach churns. He ought to warn them, but it’s happening too fast.

Hange grabs his shoulder and forces his attention to their face. Their mouth is moving quickly, but he can’t read their lips. Blurry. Too much effort.

He doesn’t remember what happens after that.

—

“L-Levi…?”

One second, Levi looked dazed, yes, totally out of it, but compared to what’s in front of Hange now, he was in perfect health.

It was just a little powder, and they washed it off. Hange would’ve sat him down to recoup and yell at him a little, and he would’ve apologized, but not without a smart retort about being messy, classic Levi—that’s what should have happened.

No, instead, Hange flung their arms around him when he dropped to the floor.

But then the bulk of him disappeared into air. They’d somehow dropped him, slipped through their fingers.

No, not that either.

Their train of thought keeps rushing to catch up with the present. They half-cradle, half-hold at arms length, and stare. He got smaller when he passed out, the size of a child, even, because Levi is a sleeping child.

Somehow his hair is the same, but his features are soft and round, even his eyes which have lost their lines. Just a thin child resting in a pile of clothes, held upright only by Hange.

“Um. I can fix this.”

But all they can manage to do is keep staring. A shout for Moblit—who they aren’t sure is even back yet—gets stuck in their throat.

The spell breaks with Levi’s little eyes fluttering open—not his eyes exactly, much brighter more expressive—widening into dinnerplates.

And he screams.

—

Erwin stares, slack-jawed at the scene presented before him (not unlike how Hange did).

It’s not the barely-restrained terror on their face that’s giving him pause—in fact, he isn’t listening to a word Moblit is yammering.

Hange is holding Levi in their arms like a baby. They can do that. Because. He’s a small child, looking no older than four, unless, maybe he looks deceptively young even now. He’s not an adult.

Levi is a small, unconscious bundle that Hange is holding in their arms, “dressed” in one giant black t-shirt. He’s not wearing his clothes because he’s too small. Because…

“Levi is a child,” Erwin repeats.

Mike echoes his shock from the doorway to Hange’s lab with, “…What the hell…”

“Mike?”

“He does… smell like Levi.”

When he burst into Erwin’s office, Mike didn’t have the full story, only that something had happened, to Levi, that demanded his full attention.

He was out of his seat before Mike could ask for orders.

He isn’t sure what he expected, Levi being Levi—too strong, too capable, and much too independent to let it be noticed even if he was hurt. Much less in the safety of HQ. But it wasn’t this.

No injury, no issue that he can fix by ordering Levi to go to medical. This isn’t Levi. Perhaps some child managed to wander in, and there was a mix-up.

Erwin inwardly shakes himself. Denial is useless. He must remain calm, but that instinct, and the immediate panic when Levi’s safety is in question war inside him.

“We explained. You… heard me, right, sir?” Moblit asks in a flurry.

“I heard you,” he says tonelessly. “Why is he unconscious?”

Hange swallows audibly. Erwin has never seen them so nervous.

“He woke up immediately. And screamed,” they explained. “He didn’t know who I was or what happened, so I… I gave him a tiny shot to make him sleep until we figure out a solution.”

Erwin stares owlishly at them. “Levi hates needles. Terrifying him wouldn’t have helped.”

“Um… yes, but—”

“And you don’t have a solution?”

“Yet!” they emphasize. “Sir!”

No one looks happy with that answer, including Hange. They heave a deep sigh. “Look. I made him into this, I can un-make him into this. By all accounts, he’s totally healthy.”

“Zöe…” Erwin warns.

“Physically, at least, sir,” they clarify. “He’s asleep. But you needed to know.”

The cogs turn in Erwin’s mind. Is he feeling grief or worry or outrage, or a mix of all three?

One couldn’t cut the thick air with a hot knife.

But a gasp does. Levi, whose glazed, teary eyes flutter open.

Whatever Hange gave him, wasn’t enough, Erwin manages to think before the yelling starts.

Levi cries out, every one of his limbs viciously wrestling against Hange’s hold, like he’s fighting for his life. He must think he is.

Both Hange and Moblit’s voices erupt in some flaccid attempts to calm him down, but if anything, that only sends him into more hysteric terror.

It takes Erwin a moment to process that Levi is afraid.

“Hange, put him down,” Erwin orders. “Mike—”

Levi is fast, but him at this size is a speeding bullet. The order puts Hange off their guard just enough for Levi to kick and successfully escape, sending him sprawling to the floor.

He’s pedaling his legs before Erwin can reach down and grab him.

Mike is their last defense, but Levi is just too fast. In a blink, he’s gone out the door.

Erwin recovers from his shock first. “The only way out is the stairs. Mike, get every door to the outside and at the stairs locked. Get your squad on it—and tell no one else about this.”

Mike runs out without a salute, and as he does, Erwin addresses Hange and Moblit. “Get to work. Now.”

For once, the most annoying design of this building proves useful: each floor that the stairs open into is barred by a door. Better yet, Erwin is sure he left the door to his own floor open in the chance Levi would refuse medical (guaranteed), and have snuck up there by the time he and Mike reached the san.

So as long as Levi doesn’t run into anyone on the stairs, they’ll be in good straits.

What follows is a comedy routine of shutting and checking doors across multiple flights of stairs. He runs into Nanaba more than once who is patrolling while Gelgar and Lynne sweep the floors of doors which were found open. They find nothing.

Erwin meets Mike at the top, who is running his hand through his hair as he catches his breath.

“No soldiers on the stairs. We got damned lucky. This one was wide open when I got up here, but no sign of him when I called out.”

“He must be up here, then,” Erwin concludes. A mere drop in his current ocean of anxiety is soothed. “I’ll take things from here. I’m sure I can reason with him.

"Assist Moblit and Hange. If they don’t need anything, then you’re dismissed.”

Mike looks doubtful, but he’s the last to argue. He salutes before disappearing down the stairs.

Levi certainly wouldn’t come when called in this state. Erwin begins his search down the short hallway: a broom closet, and the pair of double doors leading into his office (he left one cracked open), and further back, his own quarters.

Levi isn’t in the broom closet.

He closes the door to his office firmly behind him so it’s clear he doesn’t mean to sneak up on him, if he’s here. His office looks untouched from when he left. Then again, it’s perfectly in character for Levi to be discreet.

He searches behind the desk, nothing. Under the short couch pushed up against the wall, nothing. There’s not many places to hide in here.

Erwin next stops in front of the door to his personal quarters, closed, but not completely, so it slides open effortlessly. This is it—Levi was in a hurry.

He locks it behind him.

In the center of everything, between the sitting room and thoroughly unused kitchen, he looks around. Just as untouched as his office. A scared child wouldn’t hide in the open.

Levi would’ve found a way… How could this be him…?

His bedroom door is closed firmly, like the linen closet at the end of the short hall. Nothing in there but cleaning supplies… Erwin frowns.

That leaves the bathroom. He knocks softly. “Levi? …I’m not here to capture you. I don’t blame you if you… don’t trust me"—he closes his eyes—"but it’s true.”

He might as well be talking to himself, with the lack of any sign of life that follows.

Well, he’s out of leads. He opens it up, and scans the room from the long mirror and marble counter to the bath. This room also appears empty.

“Are you in here?” he calls out cordially, then stops, rethinking his approach. It occurs to him that he might be bad with children. How to talk to him, when he does find him?

“Levi, I won’t hurt you. No one will. I won’t allow that.”

Absolutely nothing. With a silent sigh, he peers over the edge of the bathtub behind the flowing shower curtain. The one place that’s left to suitably hide in is the row of cabinets under the sink. Most of that space is unused. Neither of them ever want for much.

He crouches down in front of the cabinet furthest from the open bathroom door—he doesn’t want Levi to feel cornered—and knocks faintly on it.

…Nothing.

The cabinet closest to the door flies open and slams against the wall in small Levi’s wake. He’s halfway to the locked door by the time Erwin bolts into the hallway!

“Levi, wait—!”

The doorknob jiggles violently, Levi on his toes in order to reach it. The black “shirt” sways under his knees as he forces all his might into opening it.

“Mom!” he screams. He yanks. “Mom mom MOMMA!!”

Erwin has seen a great deal of men and women eaten in all manners of gruesome ways right in front of him; he’s charged forward into hopeless odds, and never froze, not since he was a teenager.

But that’s the case now. Shocked, he can’t make himself move.

Levi, whipping his head back to look at him with glassy blue eyes the size of dinner plates glimpsed through his long bangs snaps him out of it. Glistening tears paint his cheeks and his nose is running. Erwin has never seen Levi cry like this.

He says quickly, “It’s alright, it’s alright. Your mother isn’t here right now, but—”

On his approach, Levi begins whamming on the door. It doesn’t budge.

He can’t grab him—that’ll only make him panic. The one solution he comes to is to lie, unable to reason with him in any truthful way that Levi can understand.

“Levi, I’m a friend of your mother. You got hurt, and so you were entrusted to our care to help you. That’s all.”

That puts a pause on his wailing at least. He sobs and hiccups as he hugs the stiff doorknob, fitfully tugging still.

“You hit your head, and probably forgot what happened,” he elaborates. “I know you’re confused right now, but—”

“Momma,” he cries, the word tight, absolutely soaked in torment. Like it’s the only word he knows.

“She left before you woke up,” he says softly. “And I don’t know for sure if you’ll run away again when I open that door,” he reasons calmly. He thinks as he talks. “I know you’re upset. But you’re safe here.”

Levi gives no indication that he’s listening besides his quieting crying. His voice is really… a child’s.

Regardless of that and what he’s witnessed so far, he can’t help but feel skeptical that he’ll be convinced this easily. Levi is nothing if not skeptical. And a pessimist. Suffice it to say, he can’t be lied to.

Or—can he?

He turns his head finally, looking up at him with naked terror. From Levi’s perspective, he might as well be a Titan.

He crouches down slowly. “Do you know my name?”

Erwin has never seen him afraid, either. Was he a frightful child? An emotional one? He has sparse details of Levi’s childhood—he never talks about it. His mother dying from sickness, and within a brothel where he underwent things no child should ever even know is possible. Being trained to survive by a man afterwards.

Levi won’t take his eyes off him now. He grips the knob still like his life depends on it; the other goes down and clutches the shirt hem in a tiny fist.

Erwin’s eyes widen imperceptibly. He lets out a steadying breath. “I won’t hurt you.”

His jaw wobbles. “…When is she comin’ back?”

“Not for a while. She just left. But she left you in good hands. Would she leave you alone if she didn’t believe that?”

He knows she was special to him. Further, from the way he’s acting, she was the center of his whole world. It feels like sin to lie to him like this, but he has no other choice. He needs to buy time for Hange to make a solution, and lying is the price.

Levi reluctantly shakes his head no, hiccuping.

“Let’s start over. My name is Erwin.”

He says nothing. He must accept that the door is an impossible barrier to get past, for he shuffles to the corner, and sits so as to make himself as small as possible. He stares at Erwin.

Ideas for conversation escapes him. Levi wouldn’t know his age, so he can’t start with that. The gears in his head turn.

“…Why do you look like that?”

Erwin blanks. “Like what?”

“Yellow hair.”

“Blond hair?” Erwin stammers. He tilts his head. “I was born that way. You’ve never seen a blond person before?”

He shrugs. That’s probably a no.

He feels his cheeks warm. There’s very little variety in the Underground as far as appearances go, for sure.

“I’m sorry that she didn’t leave anything to remember her by—we were all in a bit of a rush. It’s cold this time of year, so, would you like a blanket?”

His eyes narrow. “We’re Above?”

“Oh. Yes. Since your mother and I are friends, I paid for passage here,” he says slowly. He despises lying to those clueless eyes.

“I’ll be right back with a blanket,” Erwin says, partly to dismiss himself, even briefly.

Attached to the bedroom is a large closet. It smells like fresh linen and mothballs.

He knew he had no blankets that Levi could carry around comfortably. Being apologetic for bringing him a sweater or long-sleeved shirt instead would make Erwin seem more humble and trustworthy. It doesn’t feel right that he can get away with such clever manipulation tactics with Levi. It ought to be impossible.

This just isn’t Levi. It makes more sense to think of all this that way. And soothes his guilt.

Many articles of Levi’s clothes are hanging up or folded on the wooden shelves. None of them will fit him (as if any of Levi’s clothes are comfortable for a child anyway), which supports his frame of mind. Levi is missing.

What if he can’t… come back?

Erwin squeezes his eyes shut to dismiss the thought, and scans the tops hanging up instead. That leaves his own clothes.

He slides a grey sweater off a hanger that Levi wears most nights in the winter. It’s fluffy and soft like sheep’s wool. He folds it under his arm.

Back in the hallway, Levi hasn’t moved a single inch, except he’s sucking his thumb. Apologizing about the “blanket” earns him no response. He shrugs.

Erwin kneels down in front of him and holds it out to him. For a long time, he just stares.

“You can borrow it,” he encourages.

Levi takes it slowly. “…Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Of course. You’re welcome.”

Levi examines it at first with an imperceptible frown. He doesn’t seem like a happy child, but maybe he’s shy, too.

Levi strokes the felt surface like it’s going to bite him at first. “Soft,” he comments in a small voice.

“Yes.” Erwin nods, his expression softening as Levi pulls it over his head. It drowns him, leaving him to struggle with the sleeves.

“It’s… big,” Erwin warns.

“Hm.” He tugs it back off, looking sullen. Strands of his hair are sticking up.

He ends up tying the arms together and pulling it over his head like a cape. It’s more than big enough to wrap himself in even so.

“That’s smart,” he comments.

Levi shrugs and stares down at his lap. His cheeks turn red.

“Are you hungry?”

From the start, Levi seems hesitant at the idea. “What for?”

Taken aback, he shrugs. “Is that a no?”

“…No…”

Well, they’re getting somewhere at least. Levi only shrugs when he asks what he would like, so it’s a good thing Erwin knows his favorites.

His eyes, however guarded, light up at the suggestion of watermelon and rice. The biggest obstacle is finding something for Levi to do in the meantime that doesn’t involve running into other people.

At least Hange and the others know where he is. His prolonged disappearance is answer enough to whether he found Levi.

“Would you feel better if I opened this door?”

Levi again shrugs. It’s answer enough, he thinks, as Levi gets to his feet. The sweater is tightly snuggled around his tiny frame, making him appear twice as big as before.

He keeps an eye on Levi as he he unlocks, then opens the door. Some things about him, like his suspicious nature, is familiar, but it’s been surprisingly easy to earn his trust knowing that it’s next to impossible (over multiple years) otherwise.

The door opens. Levi peers out into his office, but actually takes a step back, decided he’s seen enough.

He cranes his neck to look up at him with what Erwin can only describe as puppy dog eyes. “Window?”

He is filled with an urge to give Levi whatever he wants, when he looks like that. It’s a look he’s seen before from him, the times of which he can count on one hand.

Shown so easily. How can this be him?

He nods. “There’s a window this way, too. I’ll show you.”

In the sitting room. A paneled window stretches the length of the wall, plus a mantel above a fireplace, sofa, and a large sitting chair. A bench sits in front of the sill, but, as longingly as Levi stares at it from next to Erwin, he doesn’t approach it.

Erwin crouches. “Do you want to look out?”

Levi is sucking his thumb again. He shrugs, still squinting at the window.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed,” he promises. “I’ll be right there.” He points at the kitchen.

After a beat of silence, Levi walks towards the large window without preamble, going on his tiptoes to see over the bench. It’s a bit too tall for him to climb onto without effort. He gasps loudly.

Erwin smiles to himself, and swipes his hand across his lips to get rid of it. This isn’t supposed to be fun.

“Do you need help?”

Levi looks down, surveying his obstacle.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t take the offer. He hops up, grunting in effort to swing one leg onto the bench, then the other, dragging the sweater behind him. His knees will probably bruise.

When he’s sitting upright, his head swivels back to look—for approval?

“Good job.” Erwin nods awkwardly.

Levi is so pale, his blush is hard to miss. He embarrassed him.

The real him is worse at taking compliments. Erwin makes himself go to the kitchen without looking at him. On the other hand, he feels Levi’s eyes on him when his back is turned.

With mechanical efficiency, he takes a wrap of watermelon chucks from the ice box—leftovers—and sets them out to thaw while he waits for the pot of water to boil for rice.

He’s given time to ponder on their current circumstances in the meanwhile. Hange was adamant this wouldn’t be permanent, so if they can’t come up with a solution soon, could the effects of the powder wear off?

Moblit explained that Hange wanted to conjure a mixture that would de-age Titans so much so that they’re rendered unable to stand or eat, if possible. Something about rapidly eviscerating hormones that cause growth. Seeing how they only have one weakness, they didn’t hold back on the chemicals’ intensity.

It’s a shock Levi didn’t die, in Erwin’s opinion. Nobody said it, but nobody had to. Perhaps it’s because he only touched a little of it.

A little. That implies a little time is needed to naturally go back to normal. But it’s also possible that… too much time will be needed. Hange will come up with something. They have to, and not just for Levi’s sake.

A whole other matter is the effect Levi’s “disappearance” will have on everything else. If he can get a timeframe, he can plan for that. He will watch over Levi in the meantime.

His thoughts pass the time until he pours the plain steaming rice into a bowl. Levi prefers it plain. The watermelon goes in a separate one. He keeps the water boiling to add a fresh cup of black tea too, also Levi’s favorite.

It’s ready now, and, looking over at Levi, he almost doesn’t call him over. He’s moved on from the bench and sits on the sill, the excess tail of the sweater dangling. His little hands plastered to the glass as he looks out as if he just got there, most definitely leaving smears which Levi would despise. The sun is setting on this side of HQ, which looks out above the relative wilderness outside of Trost.

Levi has never expressed just how desperate he had been to leave the Underground, but he didn’t have to. Combined with his childlike wonder, Erwin almost envies him.

In the end Levi senses someone watching him, and turns his head. Supper is ready.

He approaches with less caution than he’s ever exhibited, but he doesn’t step foot into the kitchen. His gaze roams from the dying fire under the stove, the kettle upon it, to the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. It must look alien to him almost.

Erwin pretends to be interested in the cracks in the table until Levi approaches on his own, and hops onto the seat across from Erwin. Even for a boy his age—Four? Six or seven?—he’s small. He even sits on his knees to be taller than the table.

Levi stares intently at the food in front of him, like he has no idea what to do with it.

Erwin watches him curiously. “You can have as much as you want.”

Levi stares at him with disbelief.

“I mean it,” he insists. “There’s no shortage here. There’s plenty. It’s best you have energy, too.”

He appears to take his word for it, however unable to grasp how that’s possible. If that’s the case, he doesn’t ask. He simple picks up the spoon.

It becomes clearer to Erwin then what his size means. The bones and tendons of his wrists and skinny fingers are too visible. All this time, he’s worn at least an oversized shirt. He really must have been starving. He should’ve fed him sooner.

He certainly eats like he’s starving. One arm is protectively shielding the bowl of rice while inhaling the rice. He can’t even see his mouth moving with his chin ducked in the bowl. And he’s actually… quite messy.

Erwin manages to stifle a chuckle. The picture of Levi now is everything he would disdain.

It’s even worse when he gets into the watermelon, getting juice on his fingers and around his mouth. Whatever bowl he eats from, he shields.

The tea goes untouched for the longest time, surprising Erwin at the minutes tick by. Eventually he must ask, “Do you not want the tea?”

Levi stops and looks at him like he’s just been caught stealing. He shrugs, just the slightest bit.

Erwin shakes his head, recovering from his momentary shock. “I’m not angry, just curious.”

He shrugs again, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Never had it before. It smells like dirt.”

That’s so surprising that Erwin bursts out laughing. The sudden sound makes Levi tense up. He feels horrible about it.

He frowns. “What. It does.”

Erwin laughs harder. He recovers from the bout slowly. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I’ll get you water instead. I can have it. How does that sound?”

Levi still looks confused, but he nods in the end.

Erwin fills up a glass from the tap. Levi leans back when he gets close, then snatches it up when Erwin sits back down with the tea Levi rejected.

For such a massive bowl of rice, Levi manages to eat most of it. The bowl of watermelon is licked clean.

He’s still spooning rice in his mouth, but slower now. He might mean to eat all of it. Erwin should tell him that that’s not necessary.

A sporadic, excited knock on the door.

It’s like spooking a rabbit. Levi goes wide-eyed and rigid, whipping his head around where the knock came from. It came from outside his office. And it’s Hange’s knock.

Erwin’s lips press. The moment decays and dies in the blink of an eye… as it should. He hopes it’s good news, but either way, they’ll want to see Levi.

“Stay here,” Erwin directs, and stands.

“Who is it?”

“My friends. Don’t worry—it’s nothing, ah, bad. We’re going to talk.”

Levi doesn’t look too comforted, but he stays in the chair.

At the door, it’s Hange as expected. Moblit is next to them, looking sweaty and nervous with a bundle of clothes tucked to his chest. Perhaps for Levi. Behind them, Mike is comically larger than both of them.

“Good news, Commander!” Hange yells, making Erwin narrow his eyes.

“Quiet. He’s very easy to startle.”

Mike definitely doesn’t believe that, but he says nothing while Hange mimes zipping their lips.

“Sorry, sir.” They go on their toes a few times to see over Erwin’s shoulder. “The little guy is actually up and around? That’s surprising. You must be great with kids.”

Mike turns up his nose, “He’s here.”

Moblit sighs. “Section Commander, please, get to the p—”

Hange’s, Mike’s, and Moblit’s eyes land on one spot behind Erwin at the same time. Erwin turns his head to find Levi, or rather just a peek of him from around the corner. There’s more to see of the grey sweater he’s in than him himself.

“Levi…” Erwin scolds weakly. “I told you to stay.”

“Ohh, he’s always been a rebel,” Hange dismisses. “Hiii, little guy!”

They crouch down, leaning on the doorway to get a better look. No one looks happy.

“How are you feeling?”

As much as Erwin wants to interject, he says nothing. It’s in everyone’s best interest if Levi answers. It isn’t in his best interests to shield him, after all, but… he can’t help but want to.

Levi’s eyes narrow into slits as he stares them down. “You’re weird.”

So he doesn’t remember what Hange did earlier. Good.

Hange throws their head back and laughs. No one looks happy about this, either, except Mike who is certainly hiding a smile behind his hand. Erwin asks them to get to the point, too.

They all agree to congregate in the living room.

At the last moment, Erwin quickly and quietly warns all three of them, “He doesn’t remember anything. We agreed to take care of him after a head injury, and his mother dropped him off here today.”

Everyone nods.

“Gotcha,” says Hange.

Erwin, smartly, goes first to spare Levi the anxiety of passing the others. He feels a tug on his pantleg, which he expected.

Levi stares up at him with wide eyes as the three brush past them, asking a wordless question.

“You’re not in trouble.”

Levi looks toward the three of them as they come—Mike really must be like a Titan to him—and tails Erwin as he walks.

Mike idles closer to the kitchen behind them, acting like something of a guard as Hange drops onto the sofa. Moblit sits beside them. That leaves Erwin the armchair. Levi is beside him. A scene sickeningly familiar, a feeling close to grief and a relative of nostalgia.

Hange launches into basic questions about Levi’s current conditions.

Levi doesn’t miss Mike, though. Erwin notices from the corner of his eye that he’s staring back at him.

When quiet ensues because of a question waiting to be answered, he looks in Hange’s relative direction before glancing back again. This happens too many times not to be comedic to someone, and it’s Mike, smirking the slightest bit while Levi scowls at him

“Levi—Yes, Hange, he has an appetite, no dizziness—Levi, what is it?”

“Monster size,” he grumbles.

That answer blindsides him. He quickly sticks a pin in it for now, and focuses both their attentions on Hange and Moblit. Most questions can be answered with nods or head shakes.

Levi is perfectly normal, in all physical manners of being, technically. Perfectly normal while regressed to the mind and body of a child. His child self, assumably.

Erwin can’t help but wonder if the real Levi is somewhere in there as Levi answers personal questions about himself (“How old are you?” Shrug.) and where he’s from (“Is it just your mom and you?” Nod.). He’s so different, and yet the same. Levi, and not Levi.

But still… he’s Levi. Once he has that idea in his mind, he frowns. Of course he’s somewhere within himself. Who is Erwin to deny that to spare himself the anxiety stewing inside him? His denial is foolish.

Levi is in trouble, even though he doesn’t know it. Erwin can’t not care about that—in fact he’s been acting protective over him even in this form. He’s been so selfish.

“Alright.” Hange claps. “So! Commander, he’s in your care for the time being. Agreed?”

Erwin’s jaw drops. Another slew of conflicting feeling washes over him. “My… care? What makes you think that I’m qualified to take care of him?”

As voices raise, he senses upset growing in Levi beside him. Has that not changed, either?

“You have to, Commander!” Hange begs. “Not to sound uncouth, but the little guy is terrified of anyone but you. Ugh, Mike then.”

He didn’t even get to announce his mind changed.

“Me?”

Hange swivels their head to look at him. “C'mon, you have five brothers. You have to be good with kids!”

“I’m the youngest,” he answers flatly.

“Levi doesn’t like him, either,” Erwin adds. Mike doesn’t look offended by that.

Hange tries again. “Still. We wait it out. A few days at most. We deal with it.”

“Levi is not an ’it’,” Erwin states. The authority in his tone gives everyone, especially Levi, pause. Suddenly he isn’t worried at all. This is still Levi.

“Levi is Levi. Moblit, you are to report here every three hours between 6am and 12am. Hange, don’t be far if you’re needed. Continue to work on some medicine to make him feel better. Mike, as you were.“

When he says that, he gives Mike a pointed look. He’s damage control if anything about this turns into a rumor. Mike nods.

"Are we in agreement?”

The three of them nod in unison.

"Then you’re dismissed.”

They salute, again in perfect unison. Goodbyes are short. Erwin leaves briefly—and Levi doesn’t follow—to place emphasis on directions he couldn’t give them in front of Levi.

In short time, he closes and locks his office door with a weighted sigh. He will have to get work done when Levi is asleep.

He wastes no time returning to him, but he isn’t standing where Erwin left him. He feels a blip of panic.

“Levi?”

He peeks from behind the armchair, looking crestfallen. Like he wants to be anywhere but here, but not for his own sake.

He approaches and crouches down, but keeps his distance. Perhaps it’ll actually be easier to explain this to Levi as a child than Levi himself.

“I said no to Hange at first because I’m worried that—I’m not good at this,” he explains slowly.

“…The weird person?”

“Yes.” He smiles. “The weird person. But, I do want to be there for you while you get better. If that’s alright with you, Levi.”

He sniffles. He’s hiding so that he can’t even see his face. “I want my mom.”

“…I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

He means that in more ways than he knows.

“But just for now, is that okay with you? Mike… is nice. He doesn’t talk much, like you.”

Erwin spots him shaking his head viciously. He’s properly crying now, giving him pause. How did he make him cry just now? He’s unsure of how to approach this.

Levi has always been an emotional person, but on the inside and in his own way of showing it. The same way that he’s still kind, independent, or filled with dry humor. He will treat him that way.

Erwin nods to himself. “Do you want to be left alone right now?”

He shakes his head again.

“Okay.”

He stands and comes closer, and to his total surprise, Levi latches himself to his pant leg again, crying horrified.

“Levi…” He places his hand on his head. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Odd words to hear himself say.

He nods a little into the fabric. A very meek sorry, can be heard.

Erwin’s brow furrows. “What could you be sorry for?”

He shrugs. Maybe he really doesn’t know.

Since he seems a little more comfortable with being touched by the way he’s clinging, Erwin awkwardly pats his head, petting down a few messy tufts of hair while he’s at it that have been there since he tried on the sweater.

“Well, you don’t need to be sorry. No one is mad at you for being afraid. You’re in a strange place, with strangers.”

Levi shrugs.

“No? …Except me?”

He shrugs. A moment later, he settles on a nod.

“Then I’ll be your friend,” he agrees. “I won’t leave you alone.”

He sniffles, and nods.

He’s much more calm in a little time. Sluggish, too, Erwin notices. While he holds onto his pant-leg, he’s slumping a little. Clearly today, or, “today”, took a lot out of him.

“Are you tired?”

He nods. That was easier than he expected.

Erwin shows him to the bathroom and lays out the clothes Moblit brought on the side of the tub. Moblit informed him in advance that they’ll be oversized, but they’re better than a lone shirt or sweater-turned-shawl.

Levi isn’t bothered. He inspects the plain long-sleeved shirt, trousers, and underwear much like he did the sweater on the bathroom counter. He’s at least tall enough for that.

“Should’ve said ‘thank you’,” he says, mostly to himself.

“I’m sure he knows you appreciate it.”

Levi shrugs.

In the doorway, Erwin thinks about the question he has, ever since that moment with Mike.

Levi right away notices he’s not leaving, and looks over with a frown. Erwin decides to just ask.

“What do you know about monsters? You said that Mike looked like one.”

“Yeah, but. He didn’t act like one.”

His interest is piqued. “What do you mean?”

“…One of Momma’s friends told me a story once about giant monsters once… but then Momma told me it wasn’t true.” He blushes. “But the monsters in the story are same as some people. But he didn’t act like one.”

Ah.

Levi looks up at him and frowns more. “Sorry for callin’ him that.”

“No, no"—Erwin shakes away his thoughts—"no. Don’t worry. I was trying to remember that story,” he lies.

“It was prob'ly made up.”

Erwin nods distractedly. The way Levi sees monsters… He has always deserved so much better than the world had to offer him. People like Erwin volunteered to fight Titans. Levi has either fought or been victim to monsters all his life. It stuns him, not for the first time, how softhearted he remained despite so much suffering.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Erwin asks, since Levi is apparently feeling talkative. He has a toothbrush in his hand.

Levi shrugs.

“Is there anything I can do… for you to be less sad?”

He immediately looks down. Several beats pass as Levi stares pensively at the sink.

“Tell Momma to come back soon.”

Erwin swallows. “…Anything else?”

Another long stretch of quiet. “…Don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t,” he answers, but rethinks the words as soon as he speaks them. That’s not a promise he can keep, but he can’t seem to say no to Levi like this.

He wonders… when Levi returns to normal, if he’ll remember any of this. Part of him hopes not.

The least he can do for now, and always do really, is do his damndest, and that’s to not leave Levi alone. That’s been the case for a long time, even though unspoken.

He leaves, thankful for a distraction by a task. He drags a thick woolen blanket from his bed, along with what’s normally Levi’s pillow, and lays it out for him over the couch.

On second thought, he inches the couch itself a little closer to the window.

The bathroom door is closed when Erwin passes it, the light on to signal that Levi is still changing.

“Goodnight, Levi.”

He gets back a quiet, feeble “‘night”.

Erwin sighs to himself, working through all he just learned about Levi in his mind, long after he lays down in his cold bed. He knows that sleep won’t be an easy feat tonight.

He’s accustomed to the silence that follows Levi. That doesn’t change when he’s much smaller. He doesn’t even hear the bathroom door close, but he never appears, so Erwin assumes he found his place to sleep.

He lays like a corpse in a coffin, staring up at the paneled ceiling. Until he realizes his eyes aren’t closed, and covers his eyes with his arm. As he gazes into the darkness behind his eyelids, he deepens his breathing in a calculated way. Suddenly he’s so desperate to fall asleep, as if he were trying to rest in Titan country to have a clear head for the next day. 

It doesn’t benefit him to lie awake thinking, but Levi is at risk and the cogs in his head can’t help but turn.

But apparently, admonishing himself for worrying doesn’t erase his worries. He crosses his arms with his eyes firmly closed and turns his head so his cheek rests against the fine linen pillow.

No, he is not in Titan country during nighttime, but a different sense is now telling him so; a unique unease borne from the suspicion he’s under threat even though it’s entirely unlikely, because Titans aren’t active at night.

His eyes flutter open and he blinks a few times. He casts his gaze towards the bedroom door and squints. It wasn’t open before, but it’s only cracked.

“…L… Levi?”

The door opens more, reluctantly. But it’s still impossible to make anything out, so Erwin numbly reaches over and plucks a match from the wood box behind the lantern, strikes a match, and lights a small candle sitting near it. It glows to life and illuminates the bedroom.

Indeed it’s Levi, still absurdly small, and his normally sharp features softened by childhood. He carries the felt white blanket draped over his shoulders that Erwin left out for him. But the worry puckering his small brows and pulling his lips down is so obvious it’s like seeing a stranger. Levi uses the door as a shield of sorts he peeks out from behind.

“Yes? …Tell me what’s wrong.”

“…Can’t sleep.”

“Oh.” He blinks. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

His nose wrinkles. “Who’d be afraid of that?” He looks down. “I always sleep with Momma.”

He grits and grinds his jaw, a terrible sorrow gripping him.

“Did you want to stay in here?”

Levi shrugs. He still refuses to look him in the eye.

Erwin thinks back to his own childhood. Even when he was small, he never went to his father in the night, because he simply didn’t need to. His upbringing up to then was good and fine: he always had a roof over his head, and he never went hungry. Besides the occasional taunting from other children, his childhood was comfortable and happy. That all changed after his death, but the orphanage offered no comfort whatsoever even for the times he allowed himself to want comfort during sleepless nights, or right after jerking awake in a cold sweat.

He figured that because Levi was impoverished that he was automatically independent (and, Levi is nothing if not independent), but perhaps it makes more sense for someone as sensitive as Levi to be dependent on his mother who clearly loved him so much. Living in a “kill or be killed” environment forced him to become independent later.

He never imagined it’d be like this. It’s almost a likelihood in his mind that there’s an angle to this. Why does Levi trust him like this… unless he trusts whoever’s care his mother would put him in that much?

Oh, Levi…

Erwin softens, and says, “Please do whatever makes you comfortable.”

He lays back down with his gaze fixed on the ceiling again. He still has no idea what Levi might do.

The door softly closes. His steps are silent even while barefoot on a hard floor. The only indication that he’s wandering around at all is his shape in the corner of his eye. 

Erwin can only see his head of short black hair in front of the foot of the bed. Then Levi goes on his tiptoes, spying the window, then the armchair in the corner. Erwin for a moment feels cold. And colder as he approaches the chair and stares at it curiously. Perhaps any moment he will recognize it.

He just turns around with an earnest frown and stops at the very edge of the bed. He’s tall enough for Erwin to see only as much as his small, reserved blue eyes. 

He places his hands on the bedspread and goes on his toes again. He sharply huffs as quietly as possible and tries to hop up, only to slide off with his eyes gone comically large.

Erwin now can’t help but to watch, unsure whether he wants to laugh or cry.

“What the heck,” Levi scoffs. He sounds like a whipped dog. “Your bed’s a jerk.”

A laugh leaps out of him then. 

He rubs his palm across his mouth, closes his eyes for a moment longer than a standard blink, and then sits up.

“Let me give you a hand.”

He scoots over to the edge, and stretches his arms down. Levi looks humiliated, but spreads his arms nonetheless for him to raise him up.

He sets Levi down, white cape and all. Even on a bed, Levi takes an inquisitive look around as Erwin gets comfortable on his back again.

Eventually, Levi crawls under the covers—with his blanket still wrapped around him—somewhere close enough to hear his breathing.

“Did you not sleep with your mom?” Levi asks him. His voice is facing him.

He blanks. Then tuts. “…No, I didn’t.”

”Dad?”

”I’m afraid not.”

“Why’re you scared?”

Erwin looks over at Levi’s earnest confusion, eyes slightly wide.

“Oh, no. It’s, just an expression,” Erwin explains haltingly. “It’s a way to nicely say no.”

Levi looks perturbed. “That’s weird.”

He can’t help but chuckle. Perhaps it’s fine to tell Levi what… he technically already knows.

“I actually didn’t have a mother. I did have my father. But, I was young when he died.”

“…Oh. I don’t have a dad. I think he died too.”

“Oh really?” He’s surprised now by Levi’s nonchalance. “Doesn’t that make you sad?”

“…Not really… Everyone’s mean except my mom, except her friends can be nice.”

“Mm.”

“You wanna know somethin’? One of them’s names is Matilda, and she teaches me how to do makeup.”

“What’s your favorite kind of makeup?”

“I don’t know.” He hums thoughtfully. “I like glitter… but it’s messy. My favorite color’s white. But Matilda says black goes with everything, especially blue. ‘Cause… she said I have blue eyes like the sky? But I don’t really think so.”

“Maybe…” He swallows. “…she’s never seen the sky.”

“Mmm,” he sighs. “…What’s your favorite color?”

He frowns. “…Maybe purple. I’ve never thought about it.”

He makes a disgruntled sound. “Why not?”

“I’m not really sure.” It feels like he’s for once telling the truth.

“Oh okay.”

“What’s your least favorite color? Have you ever thought about that?”

“Brown, asshole.”

“Oh, I see,” he laughs.

“Yeah... But don’t tell my mom I cussed.”

“I… I won’t.”

“Anyway… this is better now… So thanks a bunch.”

A bunch? And he sounded completely genuine. It’s silly… but Levi’s mother must have been… truly wonderful. 

Erwin leans over and blows out the candle. “You’re welcome, Levi.”

Back to darkness. Except now, Levi’s breathing is slowing. A chat must’ve made him tired. He should try to follow suit. 

Several times out of the night, he’s in and out of a doze. In the way that he knows he’s doing it, but can’t seem to stop, in his sleep-addled mind, each time he wakes he raises his head in the direction of the armchair by the window, even though Levi is still a small lump sleeping near to him. Before they were together or even close, Levi often snuck in at some point in the night, and slept there. He’d be gone by morning, but began to stick around as they grew closer. Depending on his mood, Levi feels more comfortable dressed and ready in the chair instead of a bed. It makes more sense to him to look for him there.

Each and every time, though, of course, the moon shines light on an empty chair, and his chest would give a twist of anxiety and dread. Levi should be here, but he simply isn’t.

It happens again when the bedroom is noticeably brighter compared to the grey kind of dawn before the sun rises. On his stomach, Erwin turns and raises his head, then blinks.

The sun has risen, and it shines on Levi. Levi.

He sleeps with his head tucked in his chest (oh, he’ll be sore when he wakes up) and his knees tucked the same. Ironically, he still looks small in the clothes he’s wearing, and when he sleeps, truly sleeps like he is now, he looks almost boyish.

“Levi,” he rasps.

When he blinks, the illusion shatters. He looks so small because he’s still small, just less skinny, and now sporting the hairstyle he’s always had.

How old is he? Erwin stares, shocked.

His eyes open, like he’d only been resting them, expression cool, calm and collected. So familiar, and yet a different way that coats his stomach in dread.

Who is Levi now?