Sage and Whiskey | Levi x OC x Jean

Chapter 1

"I've got a bastard who refuses to die."

Hange heaved the wheelbarrow to the cottage door. The sight punched a gaping hole in Karma's gut.

Her captain was sprawled inside. Broken. Mangled. Deep wounds in his cheeks and neck were packed with moss. Big chunks of shrapnel were left lodged in his abdomen to staunch the blood.

Hange had patched him up, but it was like spitting on a knocked-out tooth—a temporary means to preserve him on the journey to Karma. He'd need extensive medical treatment and constant observation.

But even then, there was no guarantee.

"The hell happened to him?" Karma's throat felt like it was coated in sand. She sounded as if she'd stretched her vocal cords between her hands like taffy. Her knees were as sturdy as water balloons.

"Thunderspear explosion at point-blank range. He's alive, but just barely." Hange pulled her glasses off her face and cleaned the lenses on her shirt, an excuse to look away from the wheelbarrow.

"No shit." Karma clamped her teeth until they screeched together. "Let's get him inside."

She and Hange hoisted Levi by the armpits and legs into her cottage. They dropped him on the twin bed of the dowdy guest suite. Yellow lace curtains. Exposed pipes. A basin of luke-warm water. Porcelain saucers and tea cups on the bedside table.

"What do you need?" Hange said as Karma went to work, cutting through Levi's shirt and assessing the damage. Karma could tell she was anxious to leave. Probably didn't want to stick around for the sticky part.

"An extra set of hands—if you can spare it—calendula oil, beeswax, and lots of whiskey. I've got the rest."

Hange nodded, glasses flashing. "I'll find someone. I'm sorry I can't stay."

"It's alright, the Scouts need you more than they need me, Commander."

"That's not entirely true; I'd clone you if I could. But Levi needs you most. I'm hoping a familiar, pretty face will motivate his ass to wake up."

"I hope it's that easy."

"Me too. God..." Hange turned toward the bed. The slight rise and fall of Levi's chest was the only indication that he was alive. The crinkled, cream sheets were already soiled with blood.

"He's lucky to be unconscious. That body looks like hell," Karma said.

"Hell's looked better." Hange nudged her glasses up the hump of her nose. "You're a godsend, Karma. The hospital wing is smothered. Even still, I wouldn't leave him with anyone else."

"Neither would I."

"We'll see you when he wakes up then."

"Count on it."

Hange frisked back to her blood-stained wagon. Horse hooves died down the road.

"Shit, Levi, you look like shit," Karma said under her breath.

She measured his breathing and weak pulse. His temperature was teetering on a fever and his blood pressure was dangerously low.

She didn't have time to mourn the scars that would disfigure his handsome face or the burns that would jag his skin. Instead, she scavenged a few loosely-rolled bundles of bandages and a sewing kit.

Stitches were not included in her extracurricular infirmary training, but she'd seen them be done and right now that needed to be enough. She removed clumps of soggy red moss that left her fingers tacky. Then she dabbed the abrasions clean with a wet rag and began sewing Levi's skin with her clothing-grade thread and needles. She willed the thin strands of fabric to hold.