Birdie (Levi x OC)

fifty-one

I had walked over a cliff, but in the first few days, the ground seemed solid enough. I told the minimal remaining soldiers that my father was visiting me for a short period of time. They didn't question me. He did not stay overnight, returning to a nearby inn before dark, but he was waiting every morning at the front steps for me to let him in.

His visits quickly fell into a routine. Every morning, he'd appear, looking cleaner than the day before. I'd bring him tea and a bit of bread, and we would talk. I worked on Hange's reports while he spoke about his shame and his slow descent into illness after my mother died. He was manipulative, weaving pleas for forgiveness into genuine expressions of pain, and I, in my isolation, drank it all in.

I was trying to fix him. I researched detoxification methods I'd read about in some old books, knowing full well Trost offered no specialized care. I pushed him to plan, to commit to the change. I saw not the monster Levi feared, but the fragile man I felt responsible for saving.

The only nagging thought that seeped to the back of my mind was what I was going to do when Levi returned. There was no way in hell he would let him stay. Visits, maybe, but not to the extent I was seeing him while he was away. I was risking everything; my reputation, my relationship with Levi, and my own safety, and I knew it.

I had to get my father the help he needed before Levi returned.

~

On the fourth afternoon, the mood was almost domestic. I had managed to secure a small amount of meat and fresh vegetables from the kitchens. We ate together in the office, the rich scent of cooked food a contrast to the stale air of the office.

"I've missed you, Honey," my dad spoke, leaning back in the visitor's chair. "I've missed having my family. I even miss that stubborn old man of mine."

"Why don't we go see him together?" I spoke, looking up from my paperwork. "He might be able to help you. Maybe even more than I can."

My father stiffened, the warmth draining from his face. He quickly brushed the thought off, grimacing. "Stubborn old fool won't help me. Not after all the chances he's already given. I need your help, Birdie. Yours alone. You're the only one who truly understands me."

I sighed. "I don't know if that's true." I thought back to my grandfather; he still loved his son. That I was certain about. But would he be willing to try again? To offer him his hand once more.

"We'll figure it out, Dad," I smiled softly, accepting his refusal as simply part of his struggle.

He smiled back, a tired, grateful look that tugged at my deepest protective instincts. "By the way, Sweetie. I was going to ask, do you live in these quarters alone? They seem quite large for just one person."

My eyes widened. I hadn't talked to my father about Levi, nor had I planned to. Something about the question made my stomach churn. The thought of telling my dad this personal part of who I was made me deeply uncomfortable. The very idea felt like exposing a vital organ to his manipulation.

"Yeah, Dad," the lie falling off my tongue too quickly. "My old squad leader is the Commander now. She made sure to take care of me after I injured my leg."

My dad hummed in agreement, but his eyes flickered to the closed door to the small bedroom connected to the office; a room clearly meant for two occupants. He looked... unconvinced.

Why would he even care? I thought to myself, a sharp, cold knot forming in my gut. It was an intrusion I couldn't explain. I shook my head of the thought, focusing back to the work at hand, my dad rattling off some story about his time as a soldier. I rationalized his curiosity as a father wanting to know his child's living situation, ignoring the predatory flicker in his eyes.