The Girl With The Yellow Ribbon - Attack on Titan

Chapter Eleven

The water temperature steadily drew cooler and Petra knew that her time would soon be up, lest she wanted to bathe in cold water.

She had washed her hair and scrubbed her body raw—for the first time since her injury, she felt independent.

The towel is just over there, it isn't that far . . . Petra thought, studying the towel hanging on a rack. I've done so much, surely I can manage to get out of the bath on my own?

Throwing a quick glance at her brace that lay beside the towel, Petra gripped the rim of the wash bin and pulled herself upward.

She felt the water shift as her momentum went forward, and for a second all her injuries disappeared—she was herself again, she was able-bodied, and getting out of the bath was second nature to her.

But suddenly that feeling vanished, drowned in the cold water as she came crashing down.

Petra lurched forward, collapsing to her knees in the tub, her hands still clutching the rim as she cried out in a combination of pain and frustration.

The door opened a moment later, and both Levi and Marie rushed into the small bathroom.

"Petra, what happened?" Marie gasped, kneeling beside the wash bin, ignoring the water that had sloshed onto the floor and now soaks her skirts.

"I thought I could . . . " Petra wheezes, clutching the rim still. "I thought I could do it myself."

"Why would you do that? You're still healing," Marie said, her words scolding bit her voice soft.

"I . . . I don't know. I thought I could do it." Petra let her arms fall from the rim and splash in the water before giving a sorrowful look towards them both.

I barely came to my knees. Petra thought. How pitiful.

"We need to get you out of the bath and make sure you didn't hurt yourself more." Levi says, stepping around Marie and locking eyes with Petra's bare shoulders.

Petra, as if feeling his eyes, hurriedly pressed her arms across her chest in a vain attempt to save some dignity.

"Marie, I will lift Petra out of the tub, will you hold open the towel?" Levi asked.

"Yes, sir." She replied, turned to pull the towel off the hanging rack and ready herself.

Levi turned again to Petra and rolled his sleeves up to the elbows before kneeling at the side.

"Ready?" He asked softly, looking only at Petra's face.

She nodded, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

Levi leaned forward, dipping his arms into the cold water before getting a hold of Petra's body amongst the suds.

Petra kept her arms across her breasts the whole time, even after he set her on the tiles and Marie covered her with a towel.

"Help her dry off and dress again, then call me back. If you want, you can put your brace back on or take a break from it. You just won't be able to do much."

"I'll take a break from it." Petra muttered, clutching the towel around her shoulders.

"Alright. Just dry off and dress, then I'll help you back into your bedroom or the sitting room, whichever you prefer." Levi said, his hand on the door frame.

"I will, thank you." Petra said.

"You don't have to thank me, Petra, we've been over this." Levi turned to leave the room and allow Marie to work, but still managed to hear Petra's response.

"Yes, I do."

"Do whatever you please, I can't stop you." Levi mumbled over his shoulder, unsure of whether Petra had heard or not.

Either way, she was silent.

Why would she have done something as foolish as that? Levi thought, taking his seat in the armchair again, rubbing at his temples. Surely she understood the risks. This isn't like her.

Levi had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he forgot momentarily what had happened, and then realized why she had been so quiet.

Was she embarrassed? Levi wondered. Hell, I'd be embarrassed if it happened to me—but still, it isn't like her.

From the day Petra joined Levi's squad, he was reluctant to see her as a woman.

She was braver than most men he knew, and stronger than them as well—but she was still a woman.

Levi hated the way his mind would wander when he thought of Petra, he hated the way he imagined her sleeping beside him every night or perching herself on his desk as he swore he had work to do but with every passing second his work seemed less and less compared to her.

Levi was not prone to lewd or lustful thoughts, he simply wasn't that kind of man—but he was, at his core, still a man.

Levi cursed himself for thinking such a way in this situation—Petra could be badly injured again, and this was his response.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the thoughts and pushed them to the back of his mind; maybe one day, he'll let himself openly think such things, but not today.

Instead, he sat, and waited for Marie's call and prayed his face had not flushed a deep shade of red.