The Fragments of Us | Levihan |

|{|}| SEVEN |{|}|

"Apologies for the intrusion. I know this is last minute."

Jean ducks through the doorway, boots thudding softly on the wooden floor. He shuts the door and removes his mask. The respirator releases a short burst of air with a faint hiss.

"Tch, well it's not like I have a choice," mutters Levi. "And you don't have to keep calling me 'Captain.' I retired from that position a long time ago."

"Just figured it was the respectful thing to do. You were my commander, after all."

"How the tables have turned."

Jean says nothing.

Levi scrutinizes his visitor warily. Jean had grown taller than he remembered; although the cabin is by no means cramped, his towering frame swallows up the air in the room. The medals on his uniform glint coldly in the hot noon light. His eyes are impenetrable and steely, despite his youth. He resembles every MP pig Levi despised.

The watchdog paws at the closet door and lets out a soft whine, sensing its master nearby. Jean glances over at the closet in confusion.

"Was bugging the crap out of me," says Levi gruffly, before Jean can ask. He limps towards the kitchen counter and starts washing the empty teapot, feigning nonchalance.

Without a word, Jean marches up to the closet, unbolts the door, and pulls it open. As soon as he does, a giant Rottweiler leaps out, sending them toppling over in a messy heap of limbs and fur.

"Hey, Marco! I missed ya, boy," Jean gushes, at once forgetting to be dignified.

The two tussle playfully. Jean ruffles the Rottweiler's head as Marco weaves around and over his legs, tail wagging. Levi watches them, almost startled at the stark contrast between the Jean he was greeted by and the young man now sprawled across the mopped floor, a boyish grin on his face. His service cap is knocked askew, neatly combed hair mussed, uniform rumpled and in disarray—like he had been in another one of his typical teenage squabbles with Eren. It's as if Levi is looking through a window into the past, back to a time when Jean was just... well, a kid.

An annoying conceited brat, but a kid nonetheless.

"Jean... what the hell are you doing here?" Levi asks quietly.

Jean looks up, sensing the weight in the Ackerman's tone. His face falls. Straightening his cap and greatcoat, he gives Marco one last pat and stands.

He takes a deep breath. "... I'm here to warn you."

"Let me guess: Wim came crying to you."

"Not that. It's Floch... he's planning to appeal to Eren. He wants you, Armin, and those kids sent to the gallows."

Levi freezes mid-wash, the sound of tap water rushing over coloured glaze splattering amidst the silence of both men. The blood ices in his veins, sending chills down his spine. But his face remains impassive. "... So the carrot-top with a bad haircut finally decided to grow a pair, huh?" He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. His hands clench the delicate china teapot. "How long do we have?"

"It hasn't officially been decreed yet, but Floch's got a lot of political power now sitting at Eren's right hand. He's been on edge these last two weeks, and if he manages to convince Eren, it's over for all of you," Jean replies solemnly.

"And since when did you start giving a fuck?" spits Levi, turning to face Jean fully with unmasked contempt. "Last time I checked, you're the one who betrayed us, led us straight into that ambush."

Guilt and frustration stir on Jean's handsome face. "Believe me, I never wanted any of this; do you think I enjoyed turning against my friends? I did what I had to do to protect the people of Paradis. To protect my mom."

"By sacrificing your morals and everything you believed in."

"Morals and beliefs weren't going to save us! Without Eren and the Rumbling, Marley and the world would've destroyed Paradis!"

"So instead, you helped Eren destroy the world... and you succeeded. Congratulations—" Levi holds his arms out in mock acclamation "—you've paid your dues with dust and blood. What would Marco say if he saw you now?"

"Don't you dare bring Marco into this!" the Colonel yells, his composure cracking. "Marco and all our comrades died for Paradis! And what about you, Levi? Who do you have left? No one! Maybe you joined the Alliance because you were looking for a reason to die, but I'm not gonna throw my life away! I'm not gonna lose my mom!"

The words hang in the air, sharp and raw. Jean's face is creeping with color, the veins in his neck pounding to the point he could burst. Levi's eyes prick with enraged tears, and it takes everything in him not to tear Jean to shreds. Even Marco the dog, who had been busying himself with chewing on the carpet tassels in the living room, looks up with a stunned bay.

Finally, Jean takes a shaky breath, voice rasping with regret. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to lash out like that. I know how much you've lost... we chose our paths a long time ago, but that doesn't mean I don't care what happens to you and Armin." He catches sight of Hanji's portraits hastily stacked on top of the dining table, gaze lingering on each pair of painted brown eyes. He adds faintly, "For what it's worth... I'm sorry about Hanji."

Levi's chest tightens at the mention of her name, the familiar ache flaring up. "Well it's not like 'sorry' is gonna bring her back," he snipes, voice cold and cutting.

Jean doesn't respond, but Levi sees him flinch.

The Colonel nods poignantly. He holds his head up high, collecting himself. "Right... well, it looks like everything else is in order. I guess I'll just be on my wa—"

Jean stops in mid-sentence. He's staring at the dining table with sudden attentiveness, eyes narrowing to slits. Moments later he's striding into the dining room, head cocking at the two half-full mugs of tea sitting innocently amidst the clutter of mementos.

"Hmm, still warm," mulls Jean. He holds a hand over one cup to let the steam waft between his fingers.

Hanji's cup.

"I was just cleaning up. That's from earlier," lies Levi. But by the way Jean is staring down at the mug, lips pressed into a tight line, Levi knows he isn't buying it. The watchdog has also gone unusually quiet. His ears are pricked, snout high in the air, sniffing, searching...

Levi carefully sets the freshly washed teapot on the nearby metal rack to dry, watching Jean with bated breath. The Colonel is now scouring the cabin with newfound alarm, eyes combing through every nook and cranny for signs of life. He sees the cupboard. Takes a step towards it.

Goosebumps erupt all over Levi's flesh. With Jean's back turned towards him, he slowly pulls out the drawer from under the sink and grabs a paring knife.

Each second stretches on with every step Jean takes as he approaches the cupboard, hands clenched at his sides. Levi stalks behind him, his own hand tightening on the handle of his weapon. His mind races, scrambling to figure out how he can disarm the Colonel while minimising the risk of casualties and vandalism—

A thunderous sneeze erupts from within the cupboard, followed by a loud thud as the door bursts open. Jean lets out a stifled yelp as Emmanuel and Hanji tumble out, almost bowling him over.

Without wasting a second, Levi launches himself at the frazzled Colonel. At the same time, Jean reaches over his shoulder and yanks the rifle from its place.

He aims the firearm at the pair.

Levi's eyes widen. "No—"