The looming presence of three tall, hooded figures stood on the rotting wood steps outside the modest apartment. Two of the figures seemed enormous in the faint cast of the streetlamps, while the last one was slim, yet still as tall as Furlan and nearly a head taller than Isabel. Together, the three made up an intimidating presence on their porch. The dimly lit streets that never revealed the time of day cast shadows over their faces, obscuring their identities and making their proximity all the more ominous.
Isabel felt her body freeze, unable to block the entrance as planned when the person standing closest to the door took a long stride over the threshold and barged in uninvited. The two others followed, leaving wet and muddy trails from their knee-high boots onto the hardwood floor. Isabel cringed inwards at the dirt seeping into the cracks in the floorboards, imagining Levi's strained, disapproving expression when he inevitably noticed. If he wouldn't feel murderous intent towards the trespassers in his home before, this would surely seal their faith in Levi's merciless black book.
Knife clutched in a shaky, white-knuckled grip in his right hand, Furlan barked, "Who the hell are you?"
The man incenter turned sharply, a pair of icy, blue orbs gazing dangerously down at the small sodbuster knife in the tight fist. Thin lips resolved into a stiff, belittling smile as he removed his forest green hood, exposing a sleek blonde haircut and strong bone structure with high cheekbones and a hooked nose. Something behind the intense stare made Furlan feel extremely intimidated.
"My apologies for intruding like this," the blonde rumbled, voice strong and ruthless. He didn't sound sorry at all.
"My name is Erwin Smith. I am second in command of the Survey Corps." The blonde willed some practiced reassurance into his demeanor. "These are two of my squad members, Mike Zacharias-" the tallest of the three shrugged off his cover, revealing a large crooked nose curtained by a mop of shaggy, dirty-blond hair. On his chin, he donned an untrimmed beard.
The tower of a man didn't make a move to appease. Instead, his nostrils twitched as he looked around at the simple room.
"- and Hanji Zöe," Erwin continued, motioning towards the smaller of the three, who wrenched the heavy cloth off their head, shaking their hair like a wet dog before pushing a pair of thick-rimmed glasses into place on a narrow nose, chestnut locks messily framing an array of feminine and masculine features.
"Hello!" Hanji greeted eagerly, adding a confusing, childlike glee to the heavy atmosphere. Some of the cautious energy of Isabel's stance fell at the chipper soldier until Furlan's voice reeled her back in.
"Being in the military doesn't give you the right to barge into other people's homes you know! Not even in the Underground, no matter how inferior you surface dwellers think we are."
"We could've asked for permission before entering," Hanji murmured into the second in command's ear. A pang of irritation twitched in the corner of Erwin's eye before he pointedly ignored his subordinate's comment.
"I'm looking for your leader." A severe, cold stare swept across the room as if the military officials would have been able to enter at all if the one they were looking for wasn't completely incapacitated in another room at that time. After a few moments of silence, Erwin apparently felt the need to clarify, "The small, angry one."
Neither Furlan nor Isabel offered him any answers, both resolutely standing their ground, whether it was because of fierce loyalty or bone-chilling fear. Furlan grit his teeth, nails digging crescent moons into his palms. Erwin Smith curved a thick eyebrow, a small smirk gracing his lips but, before he could continue his unwarranted questioning, Grisha stepped in between the soldiers and the teens.
"He is ill," the doctor explained bluntly, wiping blood-stained hands on a handkerchief. The blonde's azure eyes followed his movements, a low, unassuming hum rolling deep in his throat.
"Ill, huh." Erwin took in the sparse room, the cracked, bare walls, and worn furniture. Patches of blood were tracking the way from the front door to the bedroom. "And who might you be?"
Grisha paused, tucking the bloodied cloth back into his pant pocket. "I'm Doctor Grisha Jäger, from Shiganshina in Wall Maria. And yes, he is. Very much so. I would advise you to come back some other time."
"The hell they will," Isabel boldly objected, taking a step forward, fisting her hands in front of her chest. Erwin shifted his attention to her, his piercing blue eyes immediately subduing her, sending a bone-deep chill running down her spine by its intensity. Reluctantly, she let herself fall back, bewildered on how to hold herself under the threatening presence.
"Please," Grisha shot back in. "It doesn't matter if we let you see him or not. You won't get any answers. He's unconscious."
Finally, the blonde let out a deep sigh. "We know about your operations," he admitted vaguely. Furlan gave him a skeptical glare.
"What operations?" he retorted, crossing his arms, refusing to meet those penetrating orbs.
For a moment, Erwin looked between the two fickled teens, calculating, wondering how much these two actually knew. They had both been observed with their person of interest, wearing and using the ODM gear as expertly as any of their seasoned scouts. However, according to Hanji's infiltration mission with the MP's, it had only been him who had entered the warehouse. These two had never been spotted anywhere near the more infamous gangs of the Underground, nor the corrupt Military Police they dealt arms with. Why was that? Perhaps he was protecting them.
Yes. That had to be it. This kid knew exactly what the punishment would be if he was found out by the wrong people, like those corrupted assholes that outrageously roamed the same surface as Erwin's honorable and hardworking men did. Luckily for him, Erwin was one of the good ones (to the point that one could be, considering the position he was working towards); all though, this boy didn't know that. And neither was he about to find out. Not yet, anyway.
Not until Erwin could talk to him in private, He needed to choose his words and actions carefully going forward.
"The ODM gear, where did you get it?" he asked instead, engaging eye contact with both Furlan and Isabel.
"The what?" Isabel blurted out, appearing genuinely confused. Furlan took a step forward, in front of Isabel and closer to the military officials.
"We bought it," Furlan stated resolutely.
Erwin couldn't help but chuckle at his assertiveness. "Really? How much does something like this cost down here?" he gestured to the straps around his hips, holding the heavy machinery, smugly watching the wheels inside the teen's head churn.
"The fuck d'you care? You already have one! Probably got it for free in the military," Furlan bit, teeth clenched and lips twitching. A clear warning from a frotting dog. Deciding not to push them too much, to not let what little control they had (if any) on the tense situation slip, Erwin held his hands up in mock surrender, letting his pearly white row of teeth show in what he himself considered to be a jovial smile.
"You're absolutely right. I did get mine for free. As did Zacharias and Zöe, after several months of intensive training in the corps. This, however, is supposed to be the only way to obtain this gear."
"Furlan-" Isabel's voice sounded frail. Scared.
'Was this what this was all about? The military missing a few pieces of their equipment?' Furlan though. 'If it was so important, then maybe those careless bastards shouldn't be leaving it lying around unguarded while they went on their self-indulgent tirades, bulldozing through the Underground's numerous whorehouses.' A weird, prickling feeling started at the back of Furlan's neck, turning into electricity, flaring down his spine, and settling on his stomach floor like flaming bits of ember. He shifted the splintered wood on the handle of his switchblade, letting it hover in the air for a second before catching it, ready to lunge at the imposing figure in front of him.
Before he was able to catch the shaft, a large boot kicked the knife, inches from his fingertips. The metal was hurled across the room, gliding off the floor towards Furlan and Levi's shared bedroom. Furlan had a moment of confusion, before the heavy body of Mike moved with surprising agility, taking advantage of his momentum and jabbed a strong fist to his gut. Furlan's abdomen cramped and he was overwhelmed with nausea as he scrambled on the floor on all fours, dry-heaving and panting. Luckily, he had never been the one to throw up easily, but his knife was gone. Their only weapon and means of protection.
"Furlan!" Isabel wailed, leaping forward, kicking and punching Mike, who stayed infuriatingly calm through the assault. He only looked slightly inconvenienced, as he drew away from her tiny fists, eventually holding his arm out in front of him to keep her insistent violence at an arm's length. Eventually, he had enough and gave her slight body a scanty shove. With all of her weight leaning into her blows, it easily threw her off balance, and she bounced onto the floor next to Furlan, rubbing her backside.
"Just tell us what you want!" she demanded angrily, getting to her knees, stroking her friend's heaving back. "If this is about the… the… D-O-M gear or whatever, just take it and leave us alone!"
"You've misunderstood," Erwin began to explain but was soon interrupted by a small ruckus coming from the room across from them. His attention was immediately drawn to the muffled voice of a startled child before the door slowly creaked open.
A bristle of brown locks and large, worried eyes peeked outside. "D-dad?"
Before the doctor could respond, Erwin had crossed the room with long strides. A firm hand was placed on the child's back, and he gently but promptly slid the boy out of the room before shutting the door behind him.
"Dammit," Grisha muttered sourly, taking a step forward to pull his boy out of the way as Mike covered the pathway with his ridiculously burly physique.
"Doctor Jäger?" Furlan prompted, gathering himself to stand up, finally having caught his breath.
"I should have given him something stronger," the doctor said regretfully, hands twitching at his sides with the need to intervene. "Something to knock him out a little longer. He was waking up a minute ago, acting confused and agitated." Grisha shuddered at the damage Levi risked to do to his already broken body if he was to act out once he recognized strangers on his property.
He looked pointedly at the looming figure in the hallway. "Please let me in. Someone's going to get hurt." The brute didn't answer and instead folded his arms across his chest, parting his legs, widening his stand.
"Are you deaf?" Isabel wanted to know, annoyed while also looking genuinely curious. Mike twitched his nose, his upper lip curling into a small snarl at her tone before he went back to ignoring them.
The dim room was small and stuffy but void of the pungent smell of sewers that seemed to plague the entirety of the Underground. There was the musky smell of old wood and aged furniture, but overwhelmingly, the small room smelled of rubbing alcohol and sickness. On the floor in front of one of the two small beds placed on opposite sides of the room, laid a discarded medical bag, torn clothing, bloodied gauze, and bottles of medicine and disinfectants, and in a heap amidst it all, laid a bundle of bandaged limbs and obscene curses, feebly scrambling around, stuck in a thick blanket. The pathetic sight looked more like a poor, broken child than a powerful underground thug.
For a moment, Erwin couldn't help but wonder if they had gotten bad intel.
The thought stuck in his head, leaving him still and stupidly vulnerable for attack; a thick syringe jabbed into the wood between his boots. Barely avoiding the stab, Erwin's feet danced clumsily backward, surprised and slightly horrified by the viciousness of the attack.
A dangerous snarl came from the trembling culprit, whose upper body was hidden underneath the heavy woolen quilt.
"Not as incapacitated as you wanted us to think, huh?" Erwin muttered with half a smile. In spite of himself, he couldn't help but be impressed by the kid's perseverance. The unsteady hand grabbed at the syringe again and made several more attempts at stabbing whatever liquid it contained into Erwin's foot, but he easily evaded each jab. Debilitated or not, Erwin wanted to assess the infamous thug's strength. If one were to believe the doctor's claims that he had been unconscious only moments ago (which Hanji's debriefing of their mission supported), this was remarkable. The survival instinct in this one was something that a person on the surface would have a hard time even imagining. Unless, of course, you had been beyond the walls. Which, as far as he knew, this child had not.
Scraped knuckles violently kept stabbing, and feet coordinated from the stiff dance halls in Mitras tapped elegantly across the creaking floorboards. "You're awfully… hostile… for a… sick… person," Erwin huffed, winded from the unusual tango shared with the tip of a syringe.
"That sounds like a you problem," came the low, agitated voice, surprisingly deep for the child Erwin was expecting beneath the bedspread. It came out scratchy, fading in and out from a sore chest and Erwin wondered how long the boy could keep going in his not-so-obvious weakened state.
"Listen," he pressed, trying and failing to kick the syringe away from the agile hands that kept shifting the needle back and forth and away from Erwin's futile swats. "I clearly have perseverance on my-" He nearly stumbled over his own feet, "-side." An especially harsh stab landed millimeters from Erwin's toes. The violence of it made it seem impossible for the tip not to break- however, the needle was rigid and stuck deep in the rotting floors, deep enough for the pale hands attacking him to struggle to get it out for long enough that Erwin was able to grab it and snatch it away from the desperate fingers. He jerked it out of the wood, frowning at the clear liquid that still resided in the barrel, clearly not actually meant for a healthy man like himself.
"So, if you could just stop and listen for a moment-"
Levi let out a disgruntled scoff, his fingers intertwined, fists gathered over his head and he slammed them down onto Erwin's foot in one last desperate attempt for protection.
A yelp, more from surprise than pain, escaped Erwin's lungs as he stumbled back several steps. The force of the blow seemed to have momentarily exhausted his opponent.
Levi stayed still, kneeling on the ground, audibly trying to catch his breath. The gravelly sound made Erwin's own chest feel tight for a moment, yet he seized the opportunity of his foe's incapacity to grab the blanket, ready to expose his anonymous attacker.
Erwin tore off the blanket and tossed it back onto the bed, not sure what he was expecting to see. For a moment, he was stunned into silence.
It was true that he had seen him before; they had been tailing him for some time, though, from a very safe distance. It had been impossible to get close. At first, when Erwin initially heard the rumors about the skilled aerial artists from the Underground, he had convinced Shadis to send a small group of men to scout them out. They had come back exhausted, gear out of gas and some with broken bones, all of them saying the same thing; "We've never seen anything like it."
Eventually, Erwin had seen no other way than to come down and see for himself. Quickly, he understood why no one was able to get any proper intel. The moment they got close enough to see as much as a hint of the contours of his shadow, he would disappear into nothingness, probably knowing every crook and creak of this godforsaken place, ducking into alleyways and tattered constructions, secret tunnels, and hidden latches. Sometimes, if his friends, the blonde boy (Furlan had been his name, no?) or the girl were out on their own, they would be able to keep up with them, but at those times they would rarely do anything of interest. Visiting sweethearts or buying produce from vendors, perhaps committing small, petty thefts; nothing out of the ordinary for the citizens of the Underground. This kid, however, would leave the house and vanish without so much as a whiff of cologne for Mike to sense.
Having one of their new promising, ridiculously eccentric recruits, Hanji Zöe, go undercover in the known, but grossly overlooked group of corrupt Military Police had simply been a hail Mary for them to get close to this revered thug. Hanji had been the perfect person for the job; an unknown face, extraordinarily smart, and with a complete lack of shame. Although Erwin cringed at the thought of the favors he now owed Nile Dok for allowing the infiltration at all (one would think not outing the illegal operations would be enough, but apparently- and not surprisingly- no one cared).
Catching this kid on such an off day was frankly more luck than Erwin thought they deserved after all the resources wasted on not getting anywhere for so long. And now, he was right here. Drained, sprawled out in a feverish mess on the floor, wounded and defenseless. Looking nothing like the infamous criminal; the nearly mythical entity he'd conjured up in his mind, that they had been chasing for these past months. And for the first time, their eyes met; woke, ocean blue latching onto gunpowder grey, filled with animosity and glossed with fever.
The child's skin was milky white with a sickly flush across the cheeks. Black locks stuck to his forehead and large beads of sweat trailed down and dropped off his chin. His right eye was swollen and red, well on its way to turning purple. There was a pad of gauze taped over his nose, philtrum still stained red with blood from what looked like the aftermath of a punch or a kick. He looked like a beaten child; a forlorn, crushed juvenile.
Maybe that was exactly what he was.
A sting of guilt pressed its way into Erwin's consciousness. This was… this was a child. It wasn't some superhuman martial artist that he could just take- They would probably need consent forms from his parents- would they demand money to give him over to them? He would need schooling, a legal guardian on the surface. All of a sudden, there was a lot more logistics involved than Erwin had anticipated. Something else he had overlooked entirely in his pursuit, was what now seemed very clear; that the kid might not be easily persuaded to come with them. Now uncovered, he looked like a feral dog. Emaciated and untamed, shivering on the floor with just enough energy to pull his face into a knitted growl- a warning not to come too close or he'll bite your finger off. Erwin was pretty sure that it would take more than a steak to win him over. Erwin knew that a cornered animal was a dangerous animal. Whatever happened next was entirely determined by how he handled the situation.
Tentatively, he kneeled down on one knee and reached out a gentle hand. "I'm not going to hurt y-"
"Stay away!" Levi hissed, scrambling back, limbs unresponsive and clumsy. He seemed to be looking for something and Erwin suspected that he remembered having a weapon a short time ago; all though, he doubted that he remembered what happened to it. The outlines of the syringe felt like a pulsating temptation in his back pocket. A last resort of sorts, if it came to that.
Erwin kept his stance strong and unyielding a few feet from his target, mindful of any movements coming from himself, and his immobilized target.
"My name is Erwin Smith, second in comm-"
"W-what are you doing here?" came the meager voice, now silent, barely above a whisper.
"My colleagues and I have been trying to approach you for quite some time now. We-" Erwin stopped himself. Wide eyes were directed at him, but somehow the aim seemed off; like he was looking at him, but not actually at him. In his general direction, but straight through him, at someone standing behind him. Despite not having heard the worn henges of the door, Erwin offered a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure it was still closed. Shifting his attention back, Erwin carefully waved his large hand in the kid's line of vision.
The boy flinched back, all arms and legs clumsily scrambling for footing. A splintered leg tried to steady the small body and immediately gave out. He cried out as his slight weight came down on top of it.
"Hey," Erwin called, voice taking on an authoritative tone to hide the spell of panic that came over him. "You need to calm down!"
Levi managed to tumble a few feet back, eyes trailing over the floors for anything to defend himself with. In a leap of faith, his hands found the foot of his bed which he shoved away from the wall and towards his pursuer with every bit of energy he had left. It scraped across the floor, leaving white, angry scratches along the surface.
(Kenny is yelling something- shouting at him. He's in trouble. He's done bad).
Pushing his shoulder underneath the bed frame, Levi tried to flip the bed over. Make a wall; a shield of some sort, trap Kenny in the corner of the room(then maybe he can't get to him. Maybe he'll give up, decide that Levi isn't worth the trouble and leave), but the frame dug painfully into his shoulder, forcing him down, making him fall flat onto the floor.
"What the hell are you doing?"
(He sounds angry. This is bad. I've done bad and fucked up and ruined everything and can't do anything right I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up-)
Levi shoved himself underneath the bed (it's dark and scary it's where the rats live I don't wanna) and forced his trembling limbs to take him all the way to the upper corner, the furthest away from the furious man that had come to take him. Eventually, he felt his back hit the wall (feels safer here- no one sneaks up from behind), so he decided to stay there and wait, making himself as small as possible.
Noise from the room next door drowned out the deafening silence that made his heart beat too loudly in his ears; they sounded distressed and angry. Levi wondered if Kenny would make him fight any of them. He didn't like the way their blood dried in the tiny wrinkles on his knuckles, or the nauseating squelches of noses breaking. Least of all, he liked the sound of grown men crying, but Kenny would tell him to imagine that they were the ones who hurt mom (cause they very well might be), and that made it a little easier.
But Levi didn't do that anymore. He fought and killed and stole, but he fought and killed and stole from people who he knew hurt people. People like Kenny, and… and himself.
Levi let out an agonized groan, hands clutching his aching and overworked head, fingers pulling out strands of hair. He needed to cough, but something in the back of his mind told him to stay quiet (you have to be as quiet as a mouse, you can't even make a peep. Can you do that for me, baby?) The sound of calm footsteps clacked towards him, making him sick to his stomach. Levi held his breath until he could see the dark boots stopping in the gap of light.
"Why did you come back?" he whispered, more to himself than to anybody else (I'm sorry mom- I made a peep).
"I'm not sure I follow."
The earnestness of the question troubled Erwin greatly. It was followed with a long series of muffled coughs, muted behind tightly clenched hands.
"I'm-" another bout of wheezing hacks. "I'm doing fine without you, you know."
Erwin could barely hear the unsteady voice coming from under the bed, and he wanted to hush at the arguing teenagers outside. Their pleas and yells for their friend was getting on the last of Erwin's gritted nerves, until suddenly, the name they were yelling finally registered in his brain.
"Levi," he murmured silently, peering down at the ajar bed. Taking a step back, which instantly was accompanied by threats, telling him to "not come any closer, or I'll-" Erwin kneeled down on one knee next to the bed.
In hindsight, his next move had probably been a bad approach. Erwin was known for being smart, strong and cold, attributes of which two out of three was applied as he grabbed the bed and tipped it off the boy hiding beneath it, giving it a last shove before the bedframe collapsed against the wall with a smack, bedding and boards scattered all over the room.
Despite knowing that Levi was weak, Erwin now knew that he couldn't be underestimated and was ready for attack. He kept one arm close to his body, accessible to protect himself from a punch or kick, and quickly pulled the other back too once he had let go of the bed.
This was the point where hindsight hit him; he'd definitely used the wrong two attributes for his approach.
In the corner, curled in on himself and shivering, laid his target, arms protectively over his ears and face hidden in the creak of his elbow. Hoarse puffs of air went in and out of his lungs too rapidly, and Erwin began worrying that he was going to make himself pass out.
Or, it could be a trick. But, it didn't seem like one. Erwin was stumped.
Carefully, he slid his body a little closer, hoping he wouldn't startle him, or, potentially prompt an attack. As he inched closer, sounds sounding more and more like words became audible between the short puffs of air. Erwin was merely a foot away when he was finally able to make them out.
"M'sorry m'sorry m'sorry m'sorry m'sorry."
Like so many times that day, Erwin was at a loss of what to do. He did not understand what had just happened, and as far as he could see, neither did Levi. Had he caused this? What was going on inside Levi's mind that had brought him from a vicious attack dog to a child about to get eaten by a titan?
In the background, the arguing and fighting had zoned out too. It was like the whole world had paused around them, to make room for this grieving child. Something inside of Erwin's chest moved; stirred, something he didn't give room inside his heart very often.
He nearly hurled himself protectively in front of the boy when the door suddenly slammed open, hinges screaming their dissatisfaction with the rough treatment. Erwin expected to see the two teens tumble inside, but instead, Hanji barged in, eyebrows knitted in an angry, dangerous expression.
"The hell are you doing in here?" they spat in a breathy way, the loudest whisper Erwin had ever heard and he felt slightly scolded from their tone. Hanji took a moment, assessing the disarray of the room, before meeting the stoic, severe glare of their superior. "Uh, 'the hell are you doing in here, sir," they corrected and entered the room. It took a few seconds for them to notice the shattered bundle in the corner, but once they did, an ominous aura possessed their calm nature.
"What did you do?" they enquired again, advancing towards Levi without hesitation.
Levi's back became rigid when he felt the approaching figure, but the moment the soothing voice reached his ears, he let go of that tension. Long slender digits carted through his locks, gently coaching his hands away from his ears, soothing his fingers to let go of the tight grip he had on his hair.
"Don't worry. You're safe."
(I'm safe?)
"Nobody is gonna hurt you."
(I'm safe?)
Levi blearily opened his eyes. His vision faded in and out but stayed blurry. Another pang of anxiety hit him; he couldn't even see straight. Had Kenny given him something? Absently, he let his hand rest in the creak of his elbow, where a piece of cotton had been taped over a small sting that ran deep into his arm (he drugged me). Barely hanging onto consciousness (the fucker drugged me. What did he inject me with?), he let his eyes trail from the gauze to the figure before him; he had almost forgotten they were there. Long dark strands obscured a narrow face, and his heart nearly skipped a beat.
"How..." His voice died and fell into a shredded choke, as his mid-section cramped with another seizure of coughing which lasted for several seconds. Sweat fell from his hairline and stung his eyes. Eventually, once he was able to stop, he let his head fall onto a soft lap.
(Mom).
The warm hand never stopped stroking his head and he allowed himself to lean into it, hands fumbling for purchase, grabbing onto fabric as he desperately pulled himself closer (I missed you I missed you I missed you), curling onto his mother's lap and resting his overheated face against her stomach.
"Don't let him take me."
"You're safe," she repeated, and as he felt his consciousness slip out of his hands, he decided to let himself trust her.
"His fever is dangerously high," Grisha muttered gravely, closing the bedroom door silently behind him. Furlan, Isabel, and Eren were all seated on the frayed couch, Eren having fallen asleep against Isabel's shoulder. The girl was scowling maliciously at the military officials who were seated at their kitchen table. In the corner of her eye, Isabel saw Erwin Smith's head perch up, almost unnoticeably. He had this infuriatingly calm demeanor all the time as if he had no emotions at all. Like one of the creepy-ass manikins in the broken window at Miss Falkner's tailor shop. However, the doctor's words made her forget about them quickly. "I believe he has developed quite the severe case of pneumonia. I'm not sure if I can do much for him at this point. He should be at a hospital."
"Then what are we supposed to do? There are no hospitals in the Underground, is there?" Furlan demanded, getting up from his seat on the couch. For a moment, he locked eyes with Erwin, then, he looked back at Grisha. The conversation they just had with the military echoed in the silent room.
"There's been rumors of your excellence with the ODM gear for quite some time."
"We're willing to grant you permanent residency on the surface if you'll fight alongside us in the Survey Corps."
"That sounds more like a death sentence than an offer."
"Well, I would call it a deal. You are considered as quite an infamous gang you know, and we know a lot more about your, let's call it pastimes, than you might think. You have employed quite the amount of kids, haven't you? Soul-providers for their families. If you go down, they'll go down with you. You understand that, right?"
Furlan was pacing back and forth across the room, hands clutched tightly to his sides. Levi was going to kill him if he agreed to this, however, Levi would die anyway if they didn't, either by sickness or hanging by the hands of those bastards in the military police. He remembered people recovering from pneumonia back at his village; it was a severe disease, but not deadly unless you had a compromised immune system. Even then, you might pull through with proper treatment.
...fuck it.
"Do you think he'll have a better chance of making it on the surface?" he asked the doctor. Isabel was watching him with bright eyes that he couldn't read. Was she scared? Excited? Probably a bit of both. Grisha gave him a solemn smile.
"Yes."
Furlan nodded and took a deep breath, before he shoved his fist violently into the wall, punching it hard enough to leave a crack. "Fucking fine. But he'll go to a hospital right away, and none of us is going beyond the walls to fight until he's fully recovered. Deal?"
Erwin got up from his chair and moved towards him, calm and collected with a faint smile grazing thin lips. Once he stood face to face with Furlan, he reached his hand out invitingly.
"Deal."