Birdie (Levi x OC)

forty

It had been days since I had woken up, since my fever broke. And they had been the hardest days of my life. The first day was a haze of sleep, nausea, and general exhaustion. Any movement brought pain. Using the chamber pot was a particular degradation that brought deep shame and embarrassment. I cried each time.

Then there was my grief. Commander Erwin was gone, the ever-resilient leader who took a chance on me by letting me join the Corps. I had tried to talk to Levi about it, but he brushed me off. Hange had told me after the fact that, in that moment of hell, Levi had chosen to use the Titan serum on Armin rather than on Erwin. Saving the young boy meant sentencing his closest comrade to death, an act that left the entire Corps reeling. My heart tore in two for him, knowing the impossible burden of that final, unforgiving command he carried alone.

And Moblit. My memory of Wall Maria was fuzzy, but I remembered seeing Hange and Moblit together when the blast occurred. When Hange visited for the first time, I asked for him, assuming he had survived too.

"Birdie, Moblit didn't survive the blast," Hange choked, taking my hand in hers.

I went cold. "What—but you're here and you were together." I snatched my hand away. "Stop joking with me, Hange."

Delirious from the lingering fever and the pain meds, I began to hyperventilate. "You're lying, Hange."

"No, Birdie," she pleaded. "He saved my life, protected me rather than saving himself."

We were family. He told me I was his family.

"That's enough, Hange," Levi snapped from the corner of the room. "It's too soon."

The next day, Hange returned. My head was finally clear, and my raw emotions had settled into deep, hollow grief. She approached my bedside slowly, her usual energy replaced by a heavy slowness.

We didn't need to speak. We simply reached for each other.

We held each other tightly as we cried, mourning our precious third squad member. Moblit had been Hange's shadow, her voice of caution, the silent strength that allowed her to be brilliant and reckless.

"He was always telling me to be careful, Birdie," Hange whispered, her voice rough against my temple. "He never listened to his own advice."

Hange pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes red and streaming. "He was my everything," she said quietly, the statement a painful admission of their relationship.

The shared grief was a heavy blanket. We both understood that we had lost the person who had quietly held our squad together.

~

The rest of the days were marked by small, agonizing accomplishments: keeping down warm broth, sleeping a few hours, the pain finally easing in my head.

And today, the doctor delivered the final verdict. Hange, my grandfather, and Levi were all there.

The doctor cleared his throat. "The good news is that the bone, while cracked by the impact, is stable and aligned. The rebar didn't shatter it. We are not primarily concerned with the bone; it will knit in time. As well, the infection was contained and the surgical site is clean."

My brief flicker of hope died instantly.

"The bad news," he continued, "is the damage to your muscle tissue and nerves are irreparable."

"Your nerves were crushed, not severed. They will never be the same."

"That's why I can't feel parts of my foot," I breathed, the reality sinking in. "It's heavy and tingly."