Next to Me

      As soon as they stepped outside, Zeke squinted, pulling one hand from the wheelchair to shield his eyes. Sunlight. He hadn’t seen sunlight since that moment when Captain Levi’s silhouette loomed against it. After two months in the dark, his eyes couldn’t adjust to such bright light. And the air… Fresh air, a light breeze, a bright sky—all of it felt like it was truly ripped from that very moment of that very day. Small things, but such pleasant small things, sorely missed. Now, on relative freedom, Zeke promised himself to cherish them properly.       Blinded by the light, he didn’t immediately notice the carriage materialize before them. A dark-haired soldier opened the door, lifted Levi into his arms, and settled him inside, handing him a pistol. Then he turned to the wheelchair, securing it at the back. But as Zeke moved to climb in after Ackerman, a second soldier blocked his path, rifle aimed at Yeager’s chest. Zeke raised his hands, only for an angry voice to erupt from the carriage.       “Let him get in already!” Levi barked. “And you—climb in!”       “Yes, Captain!” Zeke nodded, relieved and almost cheerful, glad he wasn’t shot.       The soldier stepped aside reluctantly, and Zeke, pretending not to notice, calmly climbed into the carriage and sat beside Levi, slamming the door shut. Levi, wincing, pointed with the thumb of his mangled hand to the seat opposite.       “There. I need to stretch my leg.”       “Can’t do anything without me…” Zeke sighed theatrically and moved to the opposite seat. He lifted Levi’s leg and placed it beside him, making Levi hiss in pain.       “Careful, damn it… It’s been bitten through. The tissues and muscles are shredded. It doesn’t heal. Hurts like hell if you jerk it like that.”       “You could’ve said that first,” Zeke replied, leaning back and crossing his arms. “I’ve never dealt with a person with disabilities before, you know.”       “Well, you’ll learn,” Levi snapped, mirroring his pose.       “What do they even tell you?” Zeke asked with a put on indifference. “What’s the local doctors’ prognosis?”       “Some say I’ll lose feeling in it. Others, I won’t be able to put weight on it. Some, it’ll die off…” Trying to hide his pain from these “prognoses,” Levi shrugged and glanced at Zeke. “Basically, as many four-eyed idiots as there are opinions.”       “Point taken, Captain,” Zeke chuckled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.       The carriage moved smoothly. Zeke scanned it. The curtains were tightly drawn. It seemed odd—Levi claimed he hadn’t come to retrieve him, so why block the windows if not to hide the route? Zeke wasn’t about to find out what the reason was or peek outside. He had no desire for random passersby to learn of his release and start a lynch mob. Glancing at the pistol beside Levi, left by the guard, Zeke shrugged briefly and closed his eyes, unsure what else to look at in the cramped carriage. Levi, on the contrary, stared almost exclusively at Zeke, as he once did in the forest. Noticing Zeke’s casual glances and then his closed eyes, Levi grimaced and snapped:       “You’re too relaxed. I’m not taking you to a resort.”       “You said that already,” Zeke sighed wearily. “I’m fully aware and am not expecting one.”       “Then why are you so at ease?” Levi squinted, eyeing Zeke suspiciously, but then closed his eye and sighed. “Whatever. Your business. I…” Changing his mind, he shook his head and fell silent.       “Still, compared to a prison cell, this is some comfort, don’t you think?” Zeke smirked, eyes still closed.       Levi, lost in thought, barely heard the question and only nodded. It was too hard to process everything happening. More importantly, he couldn’t predict what came next. Thoughts swarmed in his head, their amount and variety making his heart race and his throat dry. Levi hated this feeling. And he hated when so much depended on him. Yet now, for the first time in ages, he wanted to talk. Maybe that’s why he freed Zeke—as the only one he could talk to. He wanted a conversation now but had no idea how to start it. So, to the swarm of thoughts, he added this desire to talk and ignorance of how to begin. Zeke, meanwhile, seemed to think of nothing. Falling silent, he slid down in his seat, dozing off, finally feeling something like calm. Hearing Yeager start to snore, Levi grew angrier. While he couldn’t find peace, this guy slept. Placing his good leg beside the bad, he kicked Zeke in the thigh. Feeling the kick through his nap, Yeager flinched and opened his eyes.       “What’s wrong, Captain?”       “Nothing…” Levi hissed irritably. “My legs are uncomfortable. And what, you didn’t sleep enough in two months?”       “You didn’t have to kick me,” Zeke complained, shifting aside and rubbing the bruised spot. “And even if I did—what’s it to you?”       “Have some decency,” Levi hissed back.       “What’s your problem?” Zeke sighed.       “Your attitude. I can send you back to that cell.”       “And what did I do, Levi?” Raising a brow, Yeager scratched his ear, puzzled. “I propped your leg, moved over…”       “You fell asleep,” Ackerman replied, even more irritated.       “So what?” Zeke now looked at the Captain in complete confusion.       “Sleep later,” Levi snapped, cursing himself for ever thinking anything good of Zeke.       “Fine…” Zeke exhaled. “Later it is… What now, Levi?”       The question perplexed Ackerman. He clearly wanted something but didn’t know what. To talk—yes. About what? No clue. He expected Zeke to take the initiative. As if he owed him, though Levi knew that wasn’t true. Tangled, he fell silent, having no suggestions.       “See, Captain,” Zeke broke the silence calmly. “You don’t even know what you want from me. But you won’t let me nap. You’re such a…”       “Finish that, and I’ll throw you out of this carriage while it’s moving,” Levi glared with his one eye, threatening. “Everyone on Paradis knows and hates your face. No ‘easy’ euthanasia death for you from that public trial.”       Crossing his arms, Zeke chuckled but fell silent, having already considered this and not wanting a painful death. Levi kept glaring, waiting for something he didn’t know, until his one eye tired, forcing him to close it briefly. When he did, Zeke, now too wary to sleep and instead studying the face opposite, chuckled.       “Not funny,” Levi muttered. “The smart-ass doctors said my eye’s something is messed up…” He frowned, struggling to recall. “Eye…”       “Fundus?” Zeke guessed, vaguely aware of such injuries.       “That’s it,” Levi nodded. “Yeah. Can’t look for long. Gets tired.”       “Sorry, Captain,” Zeke sighed, leaning back and offering. “If you want, you can talk with your eye closed.”       “What, you’re saying you’re up for a chat?” Ackerman retorted sarcastically.       “Well, let’s say I’m not against it,” Yeager shrugged. “Haven’t had a conversation partner besides myself in a while.”       Pouting, Levi, though he wouldn’t admit it, noted almost resentfully:       “And yet you decided to nap.”       “You were quiet anyway,” Zeke countered.       “Who stopped you from starting?” Levi grew angrier, mostly at himself for wanting to talk with Zeke, but taking it out on him.       “I was talking before,” Zeke objected again. “Why are you so pissed, Captain? Nothing’s ever right for you.”       Crossing his arms, Levi leaned back, purposely silent despite his urge to talk. Zeke, copying his pose, decided to stay silent too. Stubborn and proud, they rode in silence until the carriage stopped, and a soldier opened the door, announcing:       “Captain! We’re here!”       Levi cracked his eye open, still looking displeased, and stared expectantly at Zeke. He lowered both legs himself—helping the left with his hands to avoid pain. Feeling the stare, Zeke climbed out first, stretched his back, and leaned back in to pull Levi’s body closer.       “Where’s your wheelchair?” he asked, not yet lifting Levi.       Even being moved so freely made Levi feel nothing but resentment. Like a child’s toy or so a person so broken he couldn’t climb out without help, needing to be carried around. Two months hadn’t accustomed him to it, and he thought he never would. While these thoughts gnawed, the second soldier unloaded the wheelchair and set it beside the carriage, glaring at Zeke with hatred. Zeke, pretending not to notice, only smirked.       “Oh, there it is! How convenient!” Lifting Levi and settling him in the chair, Zeke moved behind, leaned to his ear, and whispered. “Your worker ants are quite useful. Tell me, how many do you have?”       Feeling a surge of anger, Levi jerked his head back, slamming Zeke’s chin with the back of his head. His eye throbbed, but the pain was dulled by Yeager’s yelp, rubbing his bruised chin and muttering softly:       “That hurt…”       The soldiers exchanged worried glances. The taller, dark-haired one addressed Levi:       “Captain, which of us should stay to ensure safety?”       “No one,” Levi stated firmly, ignoring Zeke’s complaint. “We stay alone.”       “Wait, Captain…” the lighter-haired one cut in. “You… You freed Yeager to serve you, right? Do the dirty work. But will he, without someone to scare or hit him? Types like him never obey…”       “You… what was it… a Yeagerist?” Levi asked, wincing and eyeing the soldier.       “So what?” he replied. “Right now, I’m worried about you, Captain. If Yeager escapes, he’ll kill loads of our people. Again.”       “I’ll handle him. In my own house,” Levi replied coldly, his icy tone sending shivers down Zeke’s neck. “Look at him. Without Titan power, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”       “I wouldn’t be so sure, Captain!” the soldier raised his voice. “He…”       “Enough,” Levi cut him off. “My order. And—no one knows he’s free, got it? Tell no one.”       “You’ve lost your mind, Captain!” the Yeagerist fumed. “He can’t be left unsupervised, and you’re breaking the law by freeing him, endangering all Eldians!”       “And you?” Levi hissed, pulling out the pistol and resting it on his palms. “Service weapon. To a civilian. For vigilante justice. That’s not against the law, huh?”       The soldier fell silent, his partner paling and staring at him in near horror, whispering:       “What were you thinking?!”       “You’ll keep quiet,” Levi said in a tone allowing no refusal, tucking the pistol behind his back. “If you talk, we all face a tribunal. Like a happy family. If you don’t want that, shut up.” Turning to Zeke, he ordered curtly. “Take me to the house.”       Nodding, Zeke silently wheeled the chair along a stone path to a small two-story house on the outskirts, in a clearing far enough from Wall Sina’s noisy city. As they moved away, the lighter-haired soldier’s voice rang out, loud enough to be heard:       “Damn Scouts never change, even when they’re cripples in wheelchairs.”       It hit like a hammer. For some reason, it struck not just Levi but Zeke too. Knowing Levi’s former authority, how respected and feared he was, how he could single-handedly replace a squad as humanity’s strongest soldier, Zeke couldn’t tolerate such disrespect and unfairness. For a moment, he considered turning back to give them a piece of his mind, but remembered Levi was still that man. Zeke didn’t want to decide for him how to respond—or if to respond at all. So, he silently wheeled the now-gloomier Captain down the path, stopping at the door and tossing casually:       “I get why you prefer my company over theirs.”       “Shut up…” Levi hissed.       Though Ackerman agreed with Zeke in that moment, he had no intention of inflating his ego further. The words clearly stung. Before, he’d have responded, likely with physical force. Now… he swallowed it. Unsure what was the right thing to do. Sighing, he pulled a key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door, eager to be inside, in a familiar setting. As Levi pushed the door open, Zeke wheeled him in and locked it behind them.       “Well… Congrats, Once-Four-Eyes,” Levi announced flatly.       “With what?” Zeke chuckled, scanning the hallway. “My new status as your personal slave?”       “Considering the first things awaiting you are clean clothes, a shower, and tools to fix yourself up, I’m a very kind slave owner,” Levi replied, glancing back irritably.       “I’ll give you that,” Zeke chuckled. “But we’ll see. Maybe you’re just luring me in.”       “You don’t have much choice. Rot in prison or here. And…” After a pause, Levi admitted. “Like that guy outside said, you could escape anytime. Whatever I said, I can’t chase you, and we’re truly alone.”       “I’d prefer not to rot,” Zeke replied, adding sarcastically. “Thanks for trusting me so much.”       “I don’t trust you at all,” Levi hissed back.       “Fair enough,” Zeke nodded sagely. “Quite logical. I wouldn’t trust myself either.”       “Exactly…” Levi muttered, still glancing at him.       “And by the way, Captain, please do not forget I’m a trained Warrior, no matter how I look,” Zeke smirked, recalling Levi’s words back outside. “I can hurt. Just so you know. And I’m definitely better with firearms than you.”       “I know,” Levi replied too calmly, as if unbothered. “I said that to that jerk. And I already told you I wouldn’t mind if you killed me. I’d thank you. Anyway, if you wheel me to the room so I’m not standing in the hallway like an idiot, I’ll tell you where to find clothes and the bathroom. So you can finally look freshened up and stop getting on my nerves.”       “Of course, Captain!” Zeke nodded with a wider smirk, pleased Levi gave in. “As you command. Just point the way. You know your way around here, right?”       “There,” Levi said, ignoring the jab, pointing with his injured hand to a first-floor room. “To the table.”       Still smirking, Zeke wheeled the chair to the spot, carefully positioning it by a large table cluttered with vials—likely medicines—and packaged bandages, and asked mockingly:       “Any more orders, master?”       “Don’t think this makes me happy,” Levi muttered irritably, clenching his fists. “I hate every minute. And I hate asking. That’s all for now. There’s a guest bathroom upstairs. It’s guest, because…” He didn’t finish, as it was obvious he couldn’t climb to the second floor. “You get it. Use it. You’ll find the bedroom nearby.” Sighing, recalling the Yeagerist’s words, Levi added what mattered to him. “You’re not my slave.”       Zeke stared at Levi, puzzled, no longer sure what he was. Not a friend or even a pal, clearly. Not a slave, according to Ackerman. Then what was this, and why? He wanted to ask but decided to drop it for now. Scratching his beard, he only asked:              “So, leave you here?”       Levi turned his head, raising a brow.       “I’m not going to the bathroom with you, don’t even ask. Can’t really help you with any of that.”       “Wasn’t planning to, Captain,” Zeke chuckled back. “I’ll manage, I think.”       “Unless you forgot how to wash after all those months,” Levi couldn’t help himself but to add. “So go. One foot here, one there.”       He fell silent, expecting a sharp joke about his disability, but Zeke, as if reading his mind, chose not to give Ackerman that satisfaction. Shaking his head silently, he turned and headed to the bathroom. Sighing, Levi leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to the ceiling, and exhaled softly, unsure if Zeke was far enough not to hear:       “Oh, Erwin… If you’re watching, I hope you understand…”       Erwin. That’s the name. Walking down the hall, Zeke overheard the words, spoken so fatalistically. And now he knew the name of the Scout regiment commander Levi loved and lost. The name sent shivers down his neck. Then a faint memory struck his mind unexpectedly. Reiner had mentioned him. Erwin Smith. He’d called him the reason they couldn’t kidnap Eren without Zeke’s help. “A demon in the flesh,” Reiner had said. Zeke chuckled. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Levi Ackerman chose such a man.       Upstairs, Zeke found the bedroom Levi mentioned, deciding to think less about Erwin and Levi, though he had countless questions for the latter—none were appropriate right now. The bedroom was simple—a single bed, a nightstand with an oil lamp, a large wardrobe, a desk, and a window. The bed was neatly made, untouched for a while, like the rest of the furniture, though not dusty. Someone cleaned regularly. The window was wide enough to climb through if needed. Decent observations for now. And conditions were not so bad. Zeke grabbed random clothes and a towel from the wardrobe and headed to the bathroom. Also simple but cozy—a shower, toilet, and a sink with a drawer and mirror. First, Zeke stripped and stepped into the shower. Turning on warm water, he let himself wash long for the first time in ages, savoring the high temperature, a proper sponge, non-stone soap, even humming softly. Stepping out clean, utterly content, as if breathing with a full chest, Yeager dried with a softer towel than the prison’s, approached the mirror, and pulled scissors and a razor from the drawer. He trimmed his overgrown nails first, then neatened and shaved his beard, instantly looking younger and neater in the reflection. Checking himself out, Zeke rubbed his cheeks and decided that, though thinner, his appearance was passable. Finally, he unfolded the clothes he’d grabbed—gray trousers and a knitted sweater, surprisingly his size, if slightly large. He tried not to think whose these likely were and had no plans to ask Levi. Heading downstairs, he only wondered if the Captain would be mad that he took too long.       Levi barely noticed Zeke’s absence. At first, he sat staring at the ceiling, thinking of everything and nothing specific—his usual pastime since the injury. Then, sighing heavily, he forced himself to tend to his wounds. Removing the bandage from his milky-white eye and tossing old ones into a bin under the table, he laid out fresh bandages, folding three—for his hand, leg, and head. Zeke returned as Levi, having wet cotton with medicine and tilted his head back, was cleaning his right eye.       “Well, Captain, mission accomplished!” Zeke announced almost cheerfully. “Now what?”       Glancing at him, Levi eyed Yeager critically with his good eye and said:       “I thought you’d trim those locks too… Fine,” he turned away, tilting his head back. “Later.”       “Sorry, I can’t cut my own hair,” Zeke replied, still upbeat. “Mostly because I don’t have eyes on the back of my head. I tried, but they didn’t grow.”       “What stopped you from shaving then?” Levi countered, setting the cotton aside and glaring. “No hands? They’re there. Fingers too. And eyes. And a mirror was definitely up there.”       “But I did shave!” Zeke protested, pointing at his face. “Trimmed the beard! Cut it a bit! Or are you blind in both eyes now?”       Levi glared harder, but, recalling his blind eye with the unhealed scar running through it, softened slightly and admitted:       “Didn’t notice… Like I said, eye fundus.”       Hearing that tone, Zeke looked at the Captain with more sympathy. The harsh scars on his face were crudely stitched, one eye with its gray iris, the other utterly lifeless. Zeke hadn’t seen the leg yet to determine how bad it was but here it was crystal clear—this eye would never see again. Sighing, Yeager decided not to hold Levi’s bad sight against him.       “Alright, fine. But next time look closer before you complain.”       Levi didn’t reply, lowering his gaze as if admitting fault, then turned to the table, folding an eye bandage and wetting its center with medicine. Zeke stepped closer, looming over. He watched Levi clumsily assemble the bandage with his right hand, and asked:       “Need help?”       “I said…” Levi muttered, glancing up. “You’re not a slave. I’ll manage… Somehow…” he added with a sigh. “Besides, it’s not just the eye.”       “I’m not offering as a slave,” Zeke noted, slightly offended. “You always act like this, huh?”       “Like what?” Levi frowned, puzzled.       Silently grabbing a chair from the wall, Zeke sat beside him, took the bandage Levi had medicated, and only then answered:       “Knocking out any desire to help. I try to be nice, and you…” Pausing, he looked up in his eyes. “That unused to it, huh?”       Levi tightened his lips at the direct question but answered honestly.       “Yeah… And I don’t want to seem completely helpless. I hate what I’ve become. Just a burden needing constant care. And you said ‘master,’” he winced at the word. “Don’t like it.”       Zeke stared at Levi silently, understanding him. Understanding why he was even grimmer than in their past meetings, how these injuries weighed heavier than he let on, and how this honesty came hard. Zeke wanted to find common ground, just as Levi didn’t want to consider him a slave, which was still surprising. Reflecting this, Yeager replied seriously:       “Alright, I won’t. But you stop constantly ordering me around, yeah?” Mimicking Levi’s tone, he added. “Don’t like it.”       “Pushing your luck, huh?” Levi snapped. “When I’ve spent over half my life serving or leading, I can’t not command.” Sighing, he tried to calm down and said more composedly. “Fine. I’ll try. Can you help… with the bandages?”       The request sounded forced, reluctant, almost awkward. But it was a request, not an order. Zeke, pleased, nodded without mockery and replied:       “Of course, I already offered. What should I do?”       “I’ve mostly done it. This,” he nodded at the bandage in Zeke’s hands. “Tie it around my eye so the wet part covers it.”       Standing up, Zeke moved behind Ackerman and carefully placed the medicated part over his eye.       “Like this?”       “Yeah…” Levi exhaled through gritted teeth, wincing at the sting. “Tie it in the back. So it holds.”       Nodding, Zeke gently but firmly wrapped the bandage around Levi’s head, tying it in back, and announced proudly:       “Done, Levi!”       “Yeah,” Ackerman exhaled. “Now the fingers… And the leg. Then that’s it,” he clicked his tongue. “These bandages piss me off…”       “Look at you, showing some heart…” Zeke chuckled, grabbing another bandage. “Tell me if I mess up. I don’t do this often, you know…”       “Here, treat it first, then bandage. So it doesn’t fester,” Levi explained, unwrapping his fingers, three of which were stitched stumps, still with sutures. He raised the pitiful stump, repeating. “Bandages piss me off. And changing them.”       “Shame the Titan power’s gone…” Zeke muttered, not fully realizing what he said, then corrected. “Though, not really. You couldn’t have inherited one anyway…” Taking the medicine, he treated the fingers, noting the same crude stitches as on Levi’s face. “Well… Once it heals, you’ll manage without the bandages. Once the stitches are out and…”       Zeke stopped. Suddenly, he realized Levi had had stitches for at least two months. With his limited medical knowledge, Zeke knew stitches came out within a month, if not sooner. Yet these wounds looked fresh, though they should’ve healed decently. Taking a bandage to wrap the hand, Zeke muttered his question.       “Why… Why haven’t the stitches been removed yet, Levi?”       “Oh, they were,” Levi replied casually. “But too early. Had another surgery. It all got inflamed again. Got worse…” He swallowed, looking away, betraying his worry. “So that’s why…”       “Damn,” Zeke said softly, imagining the ordeal, amazed Levi hadn’t lost more.       “Yeah…” Levi confirmed, wincing. “And what’s your Titan power to me? No help there. I already know Ackermans can’t use it. So they’ll never grow back,” he glanced grimly at his leg, concluding. “I’m a cripple till I die…”       “I… I’m sorry,” Zeke repeated, wrapping Levi’s fingers and tying the bandage, then looking down. “The leg—same deal?”       Levi swallowed, realizing he had to ask again, this time for something even more awkward.       “Well, move me to the bed? I’ll take off my pants.”       Nodding, Zeke silently lifted Levi, sparing him further discomfort, and moved him from the chair to the bed, which was a bit farther from the table. Ackerman scooted deeper to sit comfortably, unbuttoned his pants, and offered Zeke his injured hand for support. Zeke held his elbow, steadying him, and Levi, with his good hand, carefully pulled the pants off his hips, then down his legs. Reflecting on the absurdity, he spoke aloud.       “Last thing I thought I’d be doing today is taking my pants off in front of Zeke Yeager.”       “And last thing I thought is that I’d be part of it,” Zeke added. “Life’s full of surprises.”       “No kidding…” Fully removing the pants, Levi stretched his bandaged, thin leg on the bed, tucking the other underneath himself, and instructed. “Be careful with it. It’s torn like hell. Titan bite.”       Sitting on the bed’s edge, Zeke carefully unwrapped the bandages, setting each aside. Even as they peeled from the wound, he braced for the worst but wasn’t prepared for what he saw. His eyes widened, fingers trembling. Unable to look away, he exhaled softly:       “Damn…”       “As I said, I still feel it a bit… But some doctors are sure I’ll stop. Something got damaged. The kneecap, maybe. Filthy,” Levi winced, shifting his gaze from the wound to Zeke. Seeing Zeke’s wide eyes, sympathetic, and his trembling hand, he asked. “What’s up with you?”       Zeke looked up, finally tearing his eyes from the wound. He’d never seen a Titan bite wound this close, in this setting. Always from afar or in battle. Often, he himself sent Titans after unsuspecting enemy soldiers. Most were eaten, so wounds were rare. Here, without the adrenaline or cold calculated thinking, just with the result—flesh torn to shreds by teeth—Zeke felt uneasy. He wanted to pity and sympathize but, remembering who Levi was, that he chose this dangerous life, said something briefer:       “Nothing. Horrific… And the wound’s a bit infected… Needs different treatment, then it should heal better.”       “You said you don’t know much,” Levi noted skeptically but shrugged. “Fine. Go ahead, Doctor Yeager. Can’t get worse for this leg. Unless it’s blood poisoning and they cut it off. But I doubt that’s worse…”       Levi propped himself on his hands, scooting closer to Zeke for easier access and to watch. Zeke froze. Something Levi said hit hard. But he shook his head, dismissing memories—Levi didn’t know and spoke thoughtlessly. Blaming him now would be foolish. Still tightening his lips, Zeke treated the wound his way, gently dabbing medicated cotton, letting each patch dry. Levi watched closely as foreign fingers touched skin he barely felt, how carefully Zeke treated his wound, memorizing the method to replicate later. Slowly, focusing on the monotonous task, Zeke finished the large wound and wrapped it without padding underneath.       “Done,” he announced flatly. “I’ll try changing the leg bandage more often. Should help.”       “I’ll do it myself…” Levi tried to protest, feeling awkward.       “‘Myself,’ he says…” Zeke repeated irritably. “Ever think it’s easier for me?”       “I know,” Levi muttered, annoyed too. “I’m not an idiot.”       “Didn’t say you were,” Zeke chuckled at the assumption. “If you know, don’t fight it.” Inspecting the leg again, Zeke was left satisfied and stood up. Levi, eyeing the neatly bandaged leg, felt it wasn’t festering as much. Maybe Zeke did know something. Looking up, Levi mustered the strength to say:       “Thanks. For the help.”       “We’ll call it even, Captain,” Zeke grinned, not expecting gratitude.       “Think we already are,” Levi winced irritably, regretting the damn word. “Look at you, all clean and not stinking.”       “See?” Zeke winked. “Exactly!”       “Stop acting like who-knows-what…” Levi reached for a small basin of water by the bed, rinsing his hands. “And I’d… I’d rest.”       “Then rest,” Zeke shrugged. “What’s it to me…”       Awkwardly pulling a blanket from under himself, Levi covered his bare legs and grabbed his nightshirt, not planning to change with Zeke there.       “You, out,” he said, but, thinking it sounded harsh and recalling his promise to try, added. “I mean, to the bedroom. Settle in.”       “As you say, Levi,” Zeke smiled back.       He stretched, pleased at the thought of sleeping on a proper bed for the first time in ages. So far, he liked the conditions. Sure, the pistol lay forgotten on Levi’s wheelchair, tempting escape, but Zeke wasn’t interested yet. The odds of reaching a port were too low. And he could try anytime. For now, he wanted to enjoy the comfort, even if in Levi Ackerman’s house. Caring for him was a fair price. Glancing at the pale, bandaged shorty on the bed, once his greatest threat and now, unbelievably, his housemate—something he couldn’t have imagined that morning—Zeke turned to the door. As he crossed the doorstep, a voice called.       “Zeke?”       Turning, holding the doorframe, Yeager replied in turn.              “Levi?”       Clutching the nightshirt, Levi clarified reluctantly, eyes down.       “I’ll call if I need you.”       “Sure thing,” Zeke replied easily.       Sighing deeply, cursing his helplessness, Levi nodded. Yeager, nodding back, left the room, closing the door. Ackerman clicked his tongue, changed his shirt, and fell back, staring at the ceiling. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he needed to think alone. To think about what he’d done, the risk he’d taken—not just for himself but for others on Paradis—out of selfish loneliness and a desperate need to fill the void it had created.