Broken Hearts, Severed Limbs (Levi x OC x Erwin)

|59| Fake Relief

No matter how much Nathalie complained -which wasn’t much. She didn’t have the energy to complain and insist- Levi still forced her to mount on their horse and ride back to the Special Ops HQ. It was a long ride, but he made it fast. She needed to lie down, and he didn’t care whatever it was that they had discovered in the Catacombs of the Royal Palace. Hange and Moblit agreed to stay behind and later on fill them in on what that was, but Levi barely cared.

All he could think about, during the entirety of their fast ride, was the answer to his question.

“What do you mean they die young?! How long do you have left?!”

She was weak. It was right before she had passed out. But she made the calculations quickly. “Six… years,” She had said and she passed out in his arms. He was going to take her into a hospital, but Hange assured him that there was nothing that the doctors could do. They knew how primitive their technology and their knowledge on science were, and Hange was probably right, but he didn’t want to believe it.

He changed his mind, and he just took her home. Nathalie just needed rest. That’s all that she needed. She was just being delusional. She couldn’t be dying. He couldn’t be losing her. Her head had rolled back on his shoulder unconsciously. No. That wasn’t happening. That was just a shock-imposed nosebleed. Nothing else. She was going to be okay. Or that’s what he tried to convince himself to believe.

Six years… Their plan alone had a duration of four years. What was that supposed to mean? That they had two years left? That he could spend only two years with her? Levi did not want to believe this, but he knew it was just useless not to believe the inevitable. He gritted his teeth. His hand tightened around her waist and he rode a little bit faster. He didn’t have time. They didn’t have time.

Levi jumped off his horse, with his wife in his arms and he carried her towards the small empty building outside of Trost that they called home for now. Their brats were back in the Survey Corps HQ, training with Hange’s Squad, so they’d be alone, and they’d be able to talk this through.

But for now, she had to rest. Levi lied her back down on their bed as gently as he could manage. As if she was a fragile infant that he could break any moment. He took off her short boots, and he pushed the bedsheets over her body. He sat beside her on their bed and he took her hand in his own. He pressed his thumb below her wrist, making sure she had a heartbeat.

He let out a sigh of relief. She did have a heartbeat. A steady one. He contemplated whether he should go downstairs and make her some of his tea -that he knew she would overly enjoy when she’d wake up- or just stay there, and just stare at her. In the end, he just ended up doing neither. Levi just buried his face in his hands, and his fingers clenched on the roots of his hair almost painfully.

How long did he have left to just stare at her? How long did they have left? Six years? Was that it? And what about their plans to have a family? A house? Children? Two years weren’t enough time for any of that. Two years weren’t enough time for anything. He could keep her safe from everything. Titans, soldiers, bombs. An entire battalion of enemies could come right at her, and he could protect her. But this? This disease. How was he hoping to fight against that? Should he start reading medicine books? What was he supposed to do?

He knew the answer. She was going to die, and there would be nothing to do but stare. He’d be so useless against it. All that he could do, was stare. He was going to lose her. It was just inevitable. That was that one threat, that he didn’t know how to fight. Why was this so goddamn unfair? Why?! Why did he have to lose it all?

I’ll stand by you in sickness and in health. They had both vouched that a few days ago, on their wedding. But they didn’t have to take that vow. For twenty-five years they stood by each other and looked after each other in sickness and in health. But now he couldn’t make a soup. He couldn’t make a tea. He couldn’t make anything that was going to save her. He couldn’t fight her disease with swords and ODM and those Ackerman genes. He was going to lose her, and all he could do was watch.