Darkness stretched and swirled, seemingly endless. No pain nor awareness nor despair. Simply nothingness.
To his confusion, the darkness began receding. The farther away it slipped, the harder he grabbed for it and the faster if left him. In its wake, blooming pain — excruciating and annoying, coming from too many places. Exhaustion weighted his body like lead. The closer he drew to consciousness, the heavier that feeling became.
He was conscious, but opening his eyes felt like an arduous feat. Erwin tentatively allowed himself to relax, cataloguing what hurt and what didn't. Breathing hurt the most.
He reluctantly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, but he could make out the space around him; some sort of dimly lit tent. A desk, a bed, and a few scattered chairs. A tilt of his head brought the face of a young woman into focus. She was sitting on a chair, deeply captivated by the book in her hands, her long lashes dusting her cheek. She was attired in a simple pair of pants with a button up shirt tucked into them, and her brown hair was pulled back into a bun.
His throat felt awfully dry and it took several swallows before he could speak. All that came out was a croak before his voice dissolved into the dryness of his throat.
The woman jerked her head up from her book, and her honey eyes met gunmetal blue. The clarity of her amber eyes from halfway across the room surprised him. They seemed so familiar. Her mouth fell open upon meeting his gaze. She was shocked. He stared back at her quietly, calm and collected, though his jaw was tense with uncertainty. How long had he been out?
They gawked at each other for a few more moments before she stood from her chair and began to speak. Her voice was level and soothing. "Are you thirsty?"
Erwin blinked at her for a few seconds, startled by the girl's anticipation. He suddenly became aware of how cracked and dry his lips were. He nodded. He watched the girl tuck her book under her arm to carry a carafe and glass from the table that was across from his bed.
As she shuffled about, Erwin tested the movement in his arms before bringing one of his hands up from under the blanket. He ran his hand over his face and discovered — much to his dismay — thick stubble. He must've been out for at least a week.
He propped himself on his elbows, his face contorting in pain as he tried to sit himself up.
"Oh, please," He heard her rush over to his bedside and a cool hand was placed on his clammy forehead. He repressed a tremor at her touch; she touched him as if he would shatter under her fingers. The contact made him abandon his struggle. "Don't push yourself."
He lulled his head as far as his injuries allowed him to to look up at her. It wasn't very far, and he couldn't see her.
"Drink this first," the stranger slipped her hand under his head and helped him bring his lips to the glass of fresh water she held in front of him. Cautiously, Erwin took a first gulp. Though it was simply water, after the first instant it touched his tongue, it tasted like Heaven's nectar. He forced himself not the inhale the water like a deprived and parched fool. Still, he downed the entire glass in a few seconds.
"Thank you," he said, breathless. He attempted to prop himself up on his elbows again.
He felt the same cool hand on his bare shoulder as he shifted. She moved the pillows against the headboard behind him. The sheets slipped off of his chest as he strenuously sat himself up, revealing his bandaged abdomen. The young woman helped him tilt backwards until his back rested on the pillows.
He gazed up at her with penetrating blue eyes — strands of her brown wavy hair escaped her bun and framed her oval face. He had earned himself a rosy-lipped smile as she searched deep into his eyes for something unbeknownst to him.
"Well, well," a voice croaked from the front of tent. "Welcome back, sleeping beauty."
An old man entered the tent at that moment, goggle covered eyes dismissively set on Erwin. Erwin watched him approach the foot of his bed. The old man's white hair was wild, and his clothes were covered in some kind of black oil. He reminded Erwin of an evil genius trope from a book he used to read as a child.
Erwin blinked at his oddness while he heard the girl beside him stifle a laugh.
The 80 year old revealed beady black eyes as he plucked his goggles from his eyes and snapped them over his forehead before reaching — much to Erwin's discomfort — for the blond's face. It was Erwin's instinct to flinch away from the stranger's reach.
"I liked you better when you were blacked out. Quit yer squirming," the old man placed his hand on top of Erwin's head to keep him still and shone the light from his bedside candle into his eyes. "Look left. Look right. Up. Down. Good; you've recovered from your concussion. Now there's just the microscopic dilemma of your broken ankle and ribs," the white haired doctor gave the solider a goodhearted smack on his injured foot. Erwin had a hard time concealing his wince. The doctor exclaimed to himself at Erwin's reaction, walking over to the desk to grab some medicine. "His left foot is broken, Heinrich! Left!"
"Old man, be more gentle with the poor kid; he just woke from a coma," Tall and concealed by shadows, another man entered the tent. "Glad to have you back amongst the living, son. You are in better health, I presume?"
He carefully eyed the man who addressed him as he stepped into the light of the candles by Erwin's bed; late fifties, slim build, greying brown hair slicked into a low ponytail, and a trimmed salt and pepper beard. He resisted the urge to narrow his eyes at the familiar face staring back at him. He knew this man somehow…
"Yes, thank you," Erwin replied mechanically, buying himself some time to think. The cogs in his brain turned as the two men stared at each other until it all clicked. Erwin knew exactly who he was. "…Mr. Reichart."
At this, a spark was lit in Wilhelm Reichart's eyes and he smirked. In the corner of his eye, Erwin saw the young woman's head jerk in Wilhelm's direction, most likely wondering how he knew his name.
"It's been a while, Erwin," Wilhelm soothed. "If only your father could see the man you've become."