Once Enola has come and gone and the fog of rage has cleared from everyone's heads, the weight of the last few weeks finally hit Levi. He killed someone. He didn't need to. He could have gotten away. But instead, he let himself give in and kill them. And after that everything was so crazy and he was still so angry that he hadn't bothered to put much thought to it. But with the storm broken things were different.

They were different all over town, the sun revealing just what the chaos had brought. Max wasn't the only dead person, and more were injured. It was good, in a way, since the mess gave him something to do. Something to focus on besides his own thoughts and feelings. He'd learned a lot from Dr Goodsir, after all. In the days following everything, Levi could be found offering medical assistance. He wasn't as good as the actual doctors (and surgeon) but washing, patching up and bandaging wounds was simple enough.

When not trying to heal, Levi also makes sure he digs graves. At least one for the person he killed, and then however many seem to be needed. He digs them out near the church, but not in the graveyard itself. Don't want to disturb those who are already there.

Late at night, when things were quiet and most people were asleep, he could also be found huddled outside the community hall or the graveyard. He had no way to quiet his mind in those times, so he couldn't help but go over everything that'd happened in the long dusk. Everything he'd done. Everything he should have done differently.