Hello everyone! This is my first time wandering into this part of the website :) In memory of our fave Commander Erwin's first death anniversary, I've written this piece about the pain of losing his comrades - how he always suppressed it, because he knew they deserved far better than what they got. There's a slight bit of disassociation going on in his mind - as he continuously berates himself for the decisions he took, while preaching "no regrets" to everyone else. I tried to capture that - along with tying in some elements of his past, and how seriously he was about being the Commander.

This oneshot is based immediately after the Clash of the Titans arc - as Erwin recovers from losing his arm after battling the Colossal and Armored Titans. A retelling of the conversation between Erwin and Levi. Please feel free to let me know what you think of this piece! :)

Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing. All I think is that Erwin left us all too soon :'(

Phantom Pain

Night

They said it's always alone at the top; the summit, the pinnacle of achievement. Seclusion well-earned, solitude well-deserved.

Not that he was ever uncomfortable coming out the victor. But for once, Erwin barely remembered a time or a place more wretched than this – a victory that made defeat look perhaps more desirable.

Despite the winds – blowing and roaring at him in strong gusts – plastering his hair away from his face, his cape fluttered wildly, his throat constricting in an effort to breath. Despite his wary eyes, taking in the endless sky; crimson horizons opening up their arms, ready to take him in their dark embrace…

Most of all, despite the truth. The truth of the titans, the truth of his struggles. The results of a life-long odyssey. The sole answer to humanity's imprisonment.

The secrets from the basement – all here, with him…

The wings of freedom – imprinted on his cloak and equipment, rhetoricized as it poured from his words, yet emblazoned in his very soul – were now truly realized.

Humanity, had finally found the answer to a century's worth of struggle, even as it shrouded millenniums' worth of secrets. It was all with him, here in this moment.

Humanity had found its wings.

Clutched tightly in his right fist, wavering and shaking in his unbreakable grip.

'Finally… It is over…'

He raised his fist, molten eyes still fixed at the setting sun, holding it against his heart – feeling it thunder beneath his clenched fingers.

Moments of silent contemplation passed, before Erwin finally tore his gaze from the far-off horizons, to where he stood. His shadow – thin, wiry yet daunting, morphed into dark, spiky monsters. They took on familiar faces, said familiar words, with all fingers pointed at him. Talking, screaming, accusing – the voices grew louder, and for a moment, the Commander thought it was not tricks of the mind, but stark reality.

The demons were real.

Erwin sighed with relief.

Once separated from him, his internal demons could not be ruled by the iron-fist of rationality. Once separated, these demons were sentient, independent beings, capable of handing out punishment, and torment. He could finally relinquish control now, let the burdens be lifted from his shoulders.

Humanity had been saved. Finally, he could now face his damnation.

He was the only demon here.

'But at what cost…'

The first and last question – swallowed him in its painful wake entirely.

It didn't matter how many losses they incurred, he had preached vehemently – as long as they had something to show for it. Inching along the arduous battle against the titans, each step counted – every moment alive was a victory. The tiniest hint of progress was all that was needed to propel the best of humanity forward to their own demise. Chanting the words Erwin taught, making them their own…

'You never cared for them, did you?'

Now, when it was finally all over, the Commander found himself asking the one question he had avoided for time immemorial - disgusted with his own actions and apathy.

Was it really knowledge that had driven him to this point? Or was it merely a quest for revenge, parading behind the façade of saving humanity?

Or much worse: was it his ambition, and avarice – that let him sacrifice others to the alter? Peddling half-lies and half-truths to keep the Corps afloat – all that, for what? What, really?

The questions swam in his mind, and it ruefully dawned on him – how ironically time tore down convictions and beliefs. Turned a believer in the greater good into a cold cynic, a human into a beast.

'I did all I could to save humanity…'

It had all come to pass. He would again peddle up half-truths and half-lies, to ensure the truth benefits mankind. And then finally – finally - he would disavow the veneer of service and nobility he had upheld during the worst of hours, and embrace the anguish and torment of losing everything he had held dear, with open arms.

'I sacrificed my own humanity… I will not run away…'

Only pain, could free him, he realized bitterly as he crouched at the zenith of his catastrophic success. Not the truth; never the truth.

The shadows shifted, and he could hear the leeriness in his own words, the weakness of his own convictions…

Lowering his head, Erwin took in the faces of his fallen comrades. Wanton, careless, haphazardly discarded bodies of the Survey Corps soldiers – all who had stood by their promise, and embraced death.

David, Eld, Dieter, Ilse, Flagon, Lynne…

It would be a travesty if Erwin had forgotten their names. But in the past twenty years, he could still name every fallen soldier. These were the true martyrs, not the fictional beings praised by the Wallists. Far from it - these were all people he had known, in flesh and blood. Some more than others, perhaps, but that changed nothing. They had all trained together, grown together - shared meals, quiet jokes, guarded confessions… dug each other's graves…

Erwin's heart twisted in his chest as it mourned, even as his gaze remained steady, strong – curious, even. His mind reeled to the final times he had shared with them; distant memories, like pearly orbs – each glittering in its own magical universe, warped by time and space, and the pain they had all endured.

Even if he never remembered the names of the living in his regiment, at least he had it in him to honour them in their deaths. One saving grace of a man who surely deserved none.

"Your sacrifices were not in vain, soldiers," he murmured softly, taking in the faces of his seniors, peers, subordinates. Their mouths remained agape, faces bleeding and torn off, all frozen in their final masks: of unspeakable horror, of paralyzing terror, of wilful defeat, of tiredness and futility.

"Cast away your fears and sorrows…" whispered Erwin, as he crouched down on his knees - upon a soldier's back. Extending his left hand, he gently closed the sightless, glassy eyes, the slightest quiver in his hand.

Gelger, Nanaba, Petra, Luke, Mike….

"… your deaths were not in vain, my friends…"

But it was only when a singular face met his eye, that his heart skipped beat for a second – eyes widening to silver saucers, a shaky gasp leaving his throat.

It was one of those rare moments when Erwin felt utterly disarmed, as if the ground had been snatched from his very feet.

How could he ever forget that face… It was perhaps the sole sliver of beauty in his dark world. Like a fragrant memory, it opened the doorway to the few carefree times of his past… Walking away from it all back then, was the first real sacrifice he had to make on his perilous path toward the murky truth.

Gold-coloured eyes half-open, a strangely sleepy smile turned his way… Her dark hair – drenched in blood - framing her half-eaten face, porcelain skin tainted with rivulets of dark crimson.

It was a face he had yearned to gaze at, to behold and touch in his darkest nights – when he felt every bit of the monster that he knew he indubitably was.

'Marie...!'

The face of civilian casualties – nameless, heedless, powerless in their end. No military laurels honouring them, no mementos raised to their remembrance.

He tried to run to her, stumbling, falling as he had done, seemingly ages ago.

She had saved him then, in ways he did and not know. Back when he was a cadet, she had held up a mirror and showed Erwin who he truly was: his capability, his potential, his humanity.

And now again, after all these years, she had once again found her place in his life; in this mountain of corpses – showing him the truth of his actions. Of what Erwin had been forced to become to realize his dream: a cold-blooded monster, a mindless pursuer, a hollowed-out man.

He held out his clenched fist, reaching out to her one last time, before he realized with shock and horror.

There was no hand, holding the secrets of the titans.

The fabric on his sleeve flapped with the wind, the void, the hollow consumed by the ferocity of his environment. The world caved in on itself, and Erwin collapsed to his knees – staring at the emptiness of where he thought he had held his victory…

He then heard screaming - mirroring those of a tortured animal, on the brink of its own fearful death.

'No… It can't be…'

Marie's listless gaze continued to hold him in judgement. The faces of his fallen comrades flashed before his eyes, tears pouring down the sides of his face. Held captive by the sudden blow of defeat, he was suddenly engulfed with disgust at the whole of his being – his mind began to tear itself apart as he looked on – unable to stop, unable to process…

And then the pain hit him – as if someone had poured molten lava over his missing arm; twisting it, crushing it, digging long iron-nails into a closed palm, pulverizing every bone and cartridge. It was hot, cold, piercing, freezing – all at the same time, all without an end in sight.

It was then that Erwin realized, that those screams, were wholly and solely, his own. The hunter had become the hunted.

Morning

"Commander of the Survey Corps; and you can't even afford a cleaner? Tch…"

Sunlight streamed through his private quarters, illuminating the Spartan, rustic room – and with it, the neglected, dusty furniture. Levi wiped the grime off the window sill, rubbing his fingers off.

"I haven't exactly retired yet, Levi – to give thought to such frivolity…" returned Erwin from his bed, propped up by pillows, his old button down thrown over his broad shoulders to provide a modicum of decency. He had been battling a tough headache since the early hours of the morning, as well as the tingling remnants of pain in the place where his arm used to be. Particularly, in the absent right hand…

"Frivolity, huh?" Levi smoothed over, nonchalant, turning back from the window - disgust dripping from every syllable, his vacant expression replaced by one of barely hidden cringe.

The Commander barely noticed, still trying to ease the tensed muscles in his back and neck, to get the stench of death and failure off of him – along with the remnants of the nightmare.

Levi took note of it all silently. He walked over to the bedside table – pouring a glass of water, before handing it over to Erwin. The Commander accepted with a nod of thanks, as a brief silence fell over.

He took a few breaths to calm and reorient himself, before bringing the glass up to his lips.

"They heard you screaming again, last night, Erwin."

Erwin's jaw tightened, as he paused mid-way between a sip of water. His eyes clouded over with offence, as he returned Levi with a stern glare of his own. Yet deep down, Erwin knew the error of his own ways. He should have known that Levi would never let him get away with displaying a moment of weakness.

It was part of the reason he respected Levi, in the first place.

"Hanji, and the others were there too," Levi continued quietly, taking a seat beside the bed, regarding the crippled Commander with a steady gaze, folding his arms as he leaned back. Expecting an answer, a clarification, without asking for one – as was his way.

Now, Levi should have known better, he cynically noted to himself. Even at his lowest, Erwin never dealt a weak hand.

"In that case, I'm glad Hanji didn't barge in and start running experiments on me."

Levi barely blinked, knowing this was to happen. This brazen deflection of the question was little more than a concealed reprimand; a reminder that Erwin deliberately held up some walls with all his subordinates, and that he had no business toeing the line in between them.

There was no room for weaknesses, in their line of work, as it was. Even pretenses, no matter how pathetic, mattered.

"I smell bullshit long before I see it. You just don't want to give us grunts a straight answer, is it?"

"Do I have a choice, Levi?"

"Do you ever?"

Erwin paused – briefly ruminating Levi's words. Had there really been more of a choice at all? Death was part and parcel of serving in the Survey Corps. And once he assumed its leadership, even choosing the time, place and circumstance for death had been routine work for him.

There was no penance for all that he had done, or what he had become. Erwin had embraced the darkness with open arms – he was tired of making excuses for himself. It was what it was – and humanity survived because of it.

Someone had to take the fall. Might as well be him. No need to concern his subordinates with the battles he fought alone.

The headache returned with a vengeance – shrouding the pain in his arm.

Levi could almost see the cogs turning in the Commander's mind, his expression sobering – yet the shoulders remained alert, ready to march fearlessly into battle – and even his own death, if need be.

It was one thing Levi could not decide about Erwin – whether he truly believed humanity had a chance at winning this losing war, or whether he planned in such risky missions because he too longed to meet with death himself – as an atonement of some sort.

It would be childish naiveté, if it was the former; and a downright travesty if it was the latter.

"I'm sorry about your arm, Erwin," Levi confessed, leaning forwards – his voice quiet, uncharacteristically apologetic.

Erwin gave a wry smirk, ruefully glancing at the stump underneath his shirtsleeve.

"How many hundreds of men do you think I've sent out to be devoured by Titans?" he listed off, tonelessly.

David, Lynne, Nanaba, Flagon, Ilse, Mike….

"One arm nearly isn't enough to make up for that loss…"

The sun hid in the wake of stormy clouds, darkening the sky and with it, Erwin's quarters.

"No regrets. Isn't that what you said to me back then?"

Erwin closed his eyes, effervescent lights dancing beneath the lids. He shook his head at the innocence of the statement. The images of his nightmare flashed before his eyes once more – atop deathly summit, the dead faces of his soldiers, his empty hands, Marie…

"I remember, Levi…"

For the sake of his own sanity, Erwin had long abandoned this particular quest for answers – the morality of his decisions was gray at best, unquestionably reckless at worst. This human cost of all his actions had been repressed for all this time – yet it was bound for repression the day he accepted Commandership.

It was not a regret – it was a lifetime of regrets for him.

"… But there is a fine line between regret, and reparations. On my end, I have a debt to pay…"

Levi clicked his tongue as if bored with the answer. "Trying to become humanity's Exchequer are you now? Ah well – at least, they'd have cleaner quarters in the capital, for a change…"

The Commander quietly smiled, breaking the tense atmosphere in the room.

"I'd gladly have my other arm ripped off first."

Levi smirked in return, pleased as he leaned back, casually dusting the arm-rest of his chair.

A comfortable silence fell between the two – broken only by melodic chirping of the birds at the early morning hour, and the occasional footfall of cadets and couriers outside in the hall. As the sun fought through, illuminating their walled world with its glorious beams, Erwin found himself gazing at the window, seeing rows upon rows of neat houses, birds in flight ruling the skies – all filtered through the criss-crossed bars. A fitting reminder of the prison they called home – and the vast unknown beyond.

"Hey… I know what you're going through, though, Erwin…" Levi began, his voice far-off as he too gazed at the birds in flight, eyes softened. "Back in that filthy underground, people developed all sorts of diseases in the limbs. First came the pain, then infections. And then stupidity." He scoffed, as the memories resurfaced.

"No doctors or hospitals in that shithole. Usually, some bastard posing as a doctor would dupe 'em into chopping it off, for a hefty fee. The idiots would buy in, lose out. And then, they'd all complain that they still felt the pain in their missing arms and legs…" Levi's voice darkened, his expression becoming more sombre.

"Trying to prevent that happening to someone I know, was how I got involved with the Survey Crops, in the first place…"

"Your friend, Yan. I know, Levi… He's fine, we made sure of that."

Levi nodded slowly – before abruptly raising his head, narrowing his eyes quizzically at the Commander.

"But it's ironic, don't you think. Even if it all heals, you can never really run away from it… this -phantom pain…"

"Or the phantoms of your past…"

Levi exhaled through his teeth, thoroughly exasperated. He leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms, and turned away from the bed.

"They knew what they were getting into."

Gold against porcelain skin, hair dark as ebony; finding her place among the ashes of the dead, the face of the civilian toll in this war. Marie flashed in the Commander's mind – as he had seen her for the first time – and then the last.

He felt his heart sink at the memory and realization.

Had he been heartless enough to deliberately ignore the cost of his actions in Stohess, or inept enough to not consider it at all?

Deep down, he feared he may know the answer; yet he did not want to reach it himself. Truth be told, Erwin was mildly shocked that he even cared about this, after all his years in service. He had tried to live his life without regrets – as he'd preached his soldiers do the same…

"It doesn't matter, Levi…" Erwin sighed wistfully. He reached out for his right arm-sleeve, acquainting himself with his phantom pain, feeling the fabric of his shirt-sleeve slip between the fingers – muscle and sinew replaced with a hollow too glaring to ignore.

It was then that he heard the faint toll of the church bells, for morning service.

Time, he vaguely pondered, was slipping out of his very hands – the same way the shirt slid through his fingers. It had been a week already since the Clash of the Titans. What good did it ever do, sitting around lamenting what could not be changed?

Clarity dawned on Erwin, chasing away his dark fears. He felt his fists – both present and absent - clench, out of their own accord. Pangs of pain shot up from where his wrist used to be, but he tamed it this time. Just has he'd tamed all his demons for so long – coaxing the ache to abate, rationality over emotions, mind over matter…

The mission, over everything else.

It didn't matter. It never had, and never will. All that mattered was continuity – humanity's survival. Their lives meant nothing in the face of freedom. His life meant nothing, if it meant getting answers to their imprisonment.

The work was cut out for him – and this, was only just the beginning.

"As I said; there is a debt to be paid. I just hope I'll be able to pay back the rest when I end up in hell…"

There was a quick rap at the door – drawing Erwin's attention entirely.

"Oi, don't sound so glum. We'll be there to welcome you," Levi told him with a small smirk, a sly glint in his eye. He turned, gruffly barking the order to come in, as he deftly flicked off the dust from the other arm-rest.

"Anka Rheinberger, reporting sirs!" claimed the young soldier, saluting passionately. "Commander Pixis is here to ask after Commander Erwin-"

"Granted, can't keep Pixis waiting," replied Erwin curtly. He paused for a second, turning to face the young soldier. "You're a capable aide, Anka; will you please accompany and take notes for him?" asked Erwin, his voice strong, but compassionate. The façade slipped in neatly, his mask and guard full on – devilishly deceitful, yet not unkind. Commander Erwin eased into his role, as if it had been tailor made for him.

From his vantage position, Levi caught a good look at the girl. The unexpected compliment from the entire military's most mysterious soldiers caught the her off-guard - a slight blush appeared at the apple of her cheeks, as she struggled to respond at first. Then, with a meek affirmative, she left the room – without saluting.

Making even the lowliest of soldiers feel like glorious warriors - that was the transformational leadership that defined Erwin. Far more than the phantoms of the past. Though Levi was sure he was well aware of that.

Once the door closed, Erwin looked at Levi, eyes lowered - as if hiding something.

"Oh, and Levi – do me a favour. Get someone to keep an eye on Nile… and his family. Discretely; he's possessive about Marie."

Alas, but every mask has its cracks, every face hides its own pain. Levi did not need ask any further to know what he was thinking, or to put two and two together. He had his orders, and the respect of a man who truly was a visionary.

He needed nothing more.

"Consider it done, Commander."

Thanks for reading, everyone! Please do let me know what you think about this in comments - it would be extremely helpful :)