Dangerous Territory

Dignity Lost

I put a trigger warning at the start of this story. I would like to reiterate that.

This story contains graphic violence, homophobic and antisemitic language, racial discrimination, portrayals of the Holocaust, including scenes of war, death, interrogation, torture, dehumanization, sexual assault, executions, and basically every horrific thing you can imagine from a story set in WWII. If you are sensitive to any of these, proceed with caution.

It was the sort of late August day that made northern France one of the best places on Earth, in Levi's opinion. The sunshine made his skin tingle as he scrubbed out a cauldron that had cooked something savory for the soldiers. The smell of that leftover food made his stomach tighten.

He missed real food. Once, he despised the idea of eating something that had been cooked for Germans, but after living with Eren, he realized that food was food. Whether if it was made for the enemy, or even made from pork, to stay alive he needed to eat. He got to eat like a normal person while tending to Eren's sickbed, but that teased taste of savory food left behind a sense of longing that he had thought he suppressed after four years running from Nazis.

As his gut made a decidedly furious growl, he could hardly help himself. He reached into the pot, to a spot with a portion of a potato stuck against the cast iron. It was hard, baked on, but he dug it off with his nails. He popped the wedge into his mouth, and for a moment his mind flashed into the past.

"Petra," he sighed.

She had loved growing herbs and potatoes, and she was so proud of her cast iron pots and pans, passed down from her grandmother. She would cook meals with lamb chops, potatoes, carrots, and anything she could get to grow in the garden. Her smile was his sun, her laugh his manna, her cooking...

"Jude!"

His eyes flashed in anger as the good memory was interrupted. Kitz Woermann had rarely approached any of the Jews, and for that they were glad. The few times he had, Levi often had to tend to the damage he left in his wake.

The captain's bulging eyes were not wild, but insidious this time. Levi stared him down. This would be a fight, he already knew it. The question was, just how bad, and did he dare to defend himself?

The captain seemed to be questioning him, but Levi stared in silence. One of these days, he would have to ask Eren to teach him some German, just so he could know what the hell was going on.

As Levi sat there eying Kitz, he realized his mind had switched into that of the soldier he once had been. He calculated five ways to kill this man, and twenty ways to escape any sort of attack, besides Kitz pulling out his gun and shooting Levi point-blank. Even with that, the pot in his hands would deflect a bullet, if he had time to lift it as a shield.

What he had not anticipated were two soldiers who managed to sneak up behind him without a sound. Levi realized too late, this was more than just a mindless rant.

They made a grab at him, and Levi twirled out of their grip. He was on his feet, crouched low. He heard Kitz shouting commands, but his focus remained on the other soldiers. They were well-built and swift. The fact that they managed to sneak up on him showed to Levi that these men were not to be underestimated. They were well-trained, and he realized he was in some serious danger. Whatever the captain was up to, it was not going to be a mere punched face or cracked rib.

Dammit, where's Eren when I need him?

He despised the idea that he felt he needed that young German soldier, but without knowing what the captain wanted, without someone there to calm things down, Levi was running out of options.