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Ch.52- "Fine"

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Time did not pass in that small, sanitized cell of a room. The open window did not make the air any easier to breathe. Sallow as she was, against the bleached white blankets, Thomasin looked so dark, and those lines were darker still. Some thick, some thin, some jagged, some straight. The few visible closest to the wrist were mostly parallel, thin with clean edges. But higher, where one wouldn't have to worry about long sleeves riding up beyond, the lines grew messier, deeper, more ragged.

In some places, so much scar tissue had been layered upon already existing scars that the flesh had thickened into a disfigured mass. In other places, the scars were so large and stretched so tight, it seemed as though any wrong move would cause the skin to split open. That was only what Erwin could see with Thomasin's arm lying limp at her side, the soft skin of the inner arm still hidden by the blanket. The ever curious little boy in him longed to reach out and stretch out her arm so that he could examine every previously hidden centimeter, but every part of his mind not driven simply by pure want screamed out against the very notion. She wasn't some sideshow attraction for him to gawk at. He shouldn't have even been looking at her now- because it was disrespectful, not because the sight of all those old injuries made him want to vomit anew.

…how? How was this even possible? He had scars; who didn't? Cuts and scrapes from his youth, lacerations from his training, punctures and nicks from his job- even from shaving! But, those were scattered all across him with no rhyme or reason, a sprinkling of hurts accumulated over a lifetime. Hell, the only prominent marks on him were the thickened lines on his left hand and neck, and the dark pink seam on the stump of his arm. Three decades of injuries accumulated over nearly every situation one could think of, and he didn't think he had a single overlapping scar. So what could have possibly hurt her this badly… and why wouldn't she tell him about it?

Perhaps she was just afraid of that initial shock, the widened eyes and raised brows he rarely managed to control. Maybe she would think his horror and consternation was directed at her, rather than the true root being whatever could do something so horrible to a person. …maybe she just wanted to go to her grave (or see him off to his) without him ever knowing this aspect of her. He didn't know. He couldn't know, not while she was still completely unaware that he was there, unable to tear his eyes away.

Every single warning she'd given him over the years, about the smallest of his injuries getting infected, came flooding back- what if that was what was wrong with her now? What if all of this could have been avoided if he'd put his hand against her face like she did for him all the time, if he'd felt or even just seen that something was wrong, if he paid half as much attention to someone he was supposed to love as he did pre-mission checklists? Erwin looked up at her face, at the faint sheen of sweat beading at her hairline, the slight furrow of her brows… did she ever rest peacefully anymore?

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not even entirely sure what he was sorry about this time. There was no specific thing, he was just… sorry. About everything.

~o0o~

He got off the ferry at the stop before Trost proper. Getting into the district once would be hard enough; fighting his way out only to return was more tiresome than it was worth. Of course, the prior stop was well over a kilometer away from his and Thomasin's home, and there were no carriages readily available, but even though the walk would be slow, he welcomed the quiet for it gave him a moment alone with his thoughts. Leaving Thomasin with a kiss on the cheek and a promise that he would be back the following day that he would keep even if it killed him, Erwin had hunted the doctor down for more information. He couldn't bring himself to even mention those… marks aloud, so he circumvented his true concerns with the padded-out waffling he'd mastered as a second language dealing with the nobility over the years.

Either Dr. Jessep had too much respect for a "Hero of Humanity" to complain about reiterating the points he'd just gone over scarcely an hour ago, or else, he pitied the poor, frazzled husband working himself into a lather over his newly wed wife. No, if he was certain of nothing else, he knew there wasn't an infection. Such a thing, especially an untreated one, would result in an inverse of her symptoms- fever and increased blood pressure. The doctor mentioned that there may have been vomit in her lungs, accounting for the strange gurgling when she breathed, and noted that it was difficult to judge her pallor with how deeply tanned she was (he'd been completely taken aback when Erwin informed him that her "tan" was her natural complexion- he'd had no idea that it was possible for a person to just be born so dark), but made no mention whatsoever of the scars. So they must not have been anything worrying. That put Erwin's mind ever so slightly more at ease, though not enough to stop thinking about it.

Maybe they were another artifact of her unhappy childhood. He knew that some parents hit their children with switches or belts to discipline them- during their first shower in the Training Corps, Nile had almost proudly shown off the raised lash marks on his skinny rear end to the rest of the male cadets, bragging that his tolerance for pain was so high, his father just gave up on trying to punish him. The butt, the backs of the legs and the hands were all common places to hit, but what was to stop someone from aiming for the arms as well? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't imagine quiet, reserved Thomasin being the kind of uncontrollable hooligan who required constant corporal discipline, but it was also true that some adults just hurt children for the sake of feeding their own ego. The few times she spoke about the man who'd provided her with a place to work and live after her mother's death, it was usually with a barely restrained loathing; maybe that was why. He wished he could stop thinking about it. It hurt him to think of her hurting so badly.

"Hurt"? You don't give half a fuck about me being hurt. This isn't pain; this is nothing…

Erwin almost stumbled as the memory of Thomasin pulling out one of her stitches forced its way to the forefront of his mind, the fury in her eyes as she drew blood with nary a flinch. Even weeks after his severed arm had begun to heal, it remained so sore that every minor twitch and flex made him wince; only a few days after losing her leg, she barely emoted as he dragged her out of bed and up Wall Maria. How much pain on a regular basis did it take for one to build up that high of a tolerance? Their small, whitewashed cottage couldn't come into view soon enough- why would he ever think being left alone with his thoughts was a good thing? The moment they saw him, Hennriette and Bernadette began clucking loudly, quickly pacing the length of their enclosure.

Erwin soothed them the same way he would have his horse, the memory of his poor, loyal steed sending a pang through his stomach. At the very least, it had died quickly. In fact, his stallion's death was probably the only reason he was alive today- if the rock that tore through his guts hadn't been slowed and sent off course by the horse's skull, it probably would have gone right through his spine rather than grazing him just above the hip. At the very least, dead horses didn't require much more paperwork than he was used to. The chicken feed was in the house… somewhere. Somewhere under the kitchen sink, he knew that much. Assuring the hungry birds that he would be back in a moment, as though they could understand him, Erwin fished out his keys and unlocked the door… frowning as nothing happened.

The door hadn't been locked to begin with. But… that didn't make any sense. He'd locked the door when he left the other day, and Thomasin always locked her door when she went out- she would never risk coming back to find someone inside her house ("at least, when I'm unarmed", she'd told him a little over a year ago in Calaneth, joking but not really joking about her reason for wanting a knife holster attached to her prosthesis). Examining both the door and the frame, Erwin could clearly see that it hadn't been forced open, simply left unlocked.

…maybe she had just forgotten. Maybe she'd just… wanted to get to the Wall quickly. To wait for him. Maybe she was already sick and was trying to find a doctor before it got worse and she passed out and was left like that for several hours until he finally came back because she didn't have anyone else, and if he hadn't come back- if that rock had been going just a little faster, just a bit more to the right, if he'd had the decency to bleed to death before Floch found him-

Erwin closed his eyes, leaning against the wall to try and catch his breath. No. It didn't matter now. Whatever happened in the past already happened; he was alive, Thomasin would be fine- everything would be fine, so there was no reason to worry about things that had no bearing on the present. No matter how still he stood or how long he focused on his breathing, the dizziness didn't completely stop. But that didn't matter; the world wouldn't stop for him either, so he needed to press on. With a final sigh, he pushed himself away from the wall, his steps slow and careful as he walked to the sink.

Chicken feed, chicken feed… he knew there was a basket with things like crushed eggshells and vegetable scraps, but he was fairly certain Thomasin mixed that with grain- he remembered her constantly complaining about the rising price of millet back in Calaneth. It probably cost even more in Trost. The usually clean counter was cluttered, the now completely cold kettle still on the stove. Opening the tin box revealed that it was the one that held linden flowers in it, not the chamomile or actual tea leaves.

He'd personally never been able to tell the difference between the white and yellow flowers once they were steeped, but Thomasin insisted that the white ones were special. Her mother told her when she was little that long, long ago, her great great grandfather built his house under a linden tree that he'd planted from a seed, and that was where they'd gotten their name. Even back then, she'd known it was just a silly story made up to get a child to go to sleep, but she confessed to him all the way back when she lived in Shiganshina that a part of her, no matter how small, liked to imagine it was true.

Erwin had told her that he himself hoped it was true, before thoughtlessly remarking that it would be a sweet story to tell her own children one day. He'd been too stupid, his besotted head utterly empty, to recognize the strange look that had flitted across her face for what it had really been. Dismay. Hurt. It was no wonder everyone thought he wanted children- even back then, he'd (however unwittingly) projected the idea of having them onto her, even when he refused to believe that he could ever be the man fathering them.

Running a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh, he opened the cabinet. It didn't stick. The handle was nowhere near the actual edge of the door. The only way any fingers could get caught in it was if someone already had their fingers there when it was closing- Shaking his head, he put the box away, stacked atop the others instead of under the black tea where it was supposed to go- he could organize them later. He could already see the space for the bottle she'd taken down. Picking it up, Erwin frowned, lifting it to his ear and shaking. Empty, save for a few drops clinging to the bottom. The so-called "panacea". Maybe she thought it would make her feel better so she wouldn't have to see an actual doctor.

The last jar was honey- he could see a sticky golden trail clinging to the side of the dark brown glass. That… surprised him. Honey wasn't for tea- it was medicine. She even kept it in the first aid box at the bottom of her trunk for exactly that reason. He could have just left it there- he still needed to feed the chickens and get back to base, but… was he really so worthless that he couldn't at least put away a few things so Thomasin wouldn't have to when she returned home? From the hospital? Was the Survey Corps going to fall apart if he took a few seconds to return things to their proper place? Wiping the jar as best he could with a damp dish towel, Erwin carried it to the bedroom.

He'd wanted to set it on the nightstand as he looked for the wooden box it belonged in, but the table top was already cluttered. The lamp didn't take much room, nor did the tea cup, the sticky brown residue staining the bottom dried out and already home to a few ants. The paper wasn't even that big, a standard sheet, the bottom right corner starting to curl up slightly. It just looked so much bigger because it was blank. Mostly blank. There was a large blob of ink at the top, where the pen had been pressing down, unmoving, for an extended period as the author thought at length, considering what to say. In the end, all of her thoughts and feelings had been condensed into two lines bearing a total of three words.

Levi

I'm sorry

~o0o~

It was impossible to tell how long Erwin stood there, just staring at the mostly blank paper. The more he blinked, the less the letters looked like words, until they were just a collection of random scratches with no rhyme or reason- ironic, considering they had been written exceedingly slowly and carefully to ensure they were legible. Thomasin only spent time on writing when it was important, usually work related. Her letters and notes to him would have been incomprehensible had he not had so many years of experience deciphering which squiggles were supposed to be "a"s and which ones were "u"s (or even the occasional "c").

These three words had more thought and care put into them than anything addressed to him in the last five years. Three words meant for Levi, a man logic would dictate she barely knew, whom she only spoke to when Erwin forced their paths to cross. It was a miracle the jar of honey didn't break with how hard he'd slammed it on the table. The tea cup went ignored- he could deal with ants later. Snatching the… note? Letter? What the hell could three words be called? He roughly folded it as he rifled through the cabinets for the chicken feed- his personal feelings were never an excuse to not perform his duties.

Scattering the mixture of seeds and withered greens through the twisted wire of the enclosure (probably more than he should have, but justifying it with his uncertainty over when he would be able to return), Erwin tossed the basket onto the newly cleared counter, making sure that the door was actually locked before heading into the district. He did not allow himself to be slowed down, numb to any touches, deaf to any exclamations. Most people were perceptive enough to perhaps sense the negative emotions rolling off him in waves, but there was a certain disregard that set journalists apart from normal people. The moment he began heading towards the Survey Corps' gates, they leapt up from where they had been seated, either on crates or the street itself, crowding around him with pen in one hand, paper in the other.

"Commander!"

"Can you tell us what caused the majority of casualties on this mission?"

"How were the Armored and Colossal Titans killed!?"

"What information did you find in Dr. Yeager's cellar?"

"Do you expect this victory to encourage more people to join the Survey Corps?"

"When can we interview the surviving Scouts!?"

"Do you believe the massive casualties incurred were worth a single victory?"

Erwin would have been… not content, but amenable to ignoring them had it not been for that last question. How many times had he heard that same question, or some variant thereof, shouted at him by enraged parents or siblings or spouses?

How many people died today?!

Did you even accomplish anything!?

Was it worth it!?

And every time, he remained silent, marching forward, staring straight ahead, because those people were entitled to their rage, their hatred and disgust. This time, he stopped. And turned. And spoke.

"…have you vultures not even an ounce of shame? You've been circling our base since the moment we returned to Trost, not even willing to let us wash off the blood of our comrades before you descend on us, ready to tear apart every scrap of flesh you can get your diseased talons into in hopes that you can sell one more paper. You can all leave now- when we are ready to announce the findings of our missions, you will know." He lowered his voice until it had become a venomous whisper. "And if any of you harass any of my soldiers the way you are currently harassing me, I will find you… and I will personally ensure that you will never be able to ask another question again."

There would only be a brief lull in the cacophony, and Erwin used it to slip inside the gates, closing and barring them behind him. Just as he expected, the moment the shock wore off, another wave of questions demanding answers washed over him, but he ignored them. His little outburst was courting disaster; how many papers would be running with headlines saying that he was violent, deranged, unhinged; a tyrant who ruled the Survey Corps through intimidation and probably killed all those brave Scouts himself? He'd give it a week before the wind changed course and the people of Trost once more believed he was a power-hungry, parasitic murderer. At least then, he'd probably be able to walk the streets unbothered.

Not even a year ago, Erwin would have been horrified by the thought of losing his temper in public, of allowing the facade of Commander Smith to slip for even a moment. The Survey Corps had a reputation to uphold, and he more than anyone was responsible for that reputation. …not even a year ago, his most pressing concern was deciding how many teams he would send to scout ahead the Schafsweg pass… not even a year ago, Titans were the only enemy, and Thomasin would always be safe as long as she stayed in Calaneth, far away from him…

The only other time the barracks were this quiet was when they were completely deserted, like in Ehrmich. Usually, no matter how somber the mood or late in the evening, there was some sound, some sign of life. Lunch was over- with so few soldiers, prep and cleanup probably only took an hour at most. There were no injured or dying soldiers in the sick bay- the medical students did not live on site and returned to the apartments the Premier had added to the Corps' budget every evening. Only four rooms were occupied on the second floor, five on the third.

If he'd slipped back into the role of Commander Smith like he should have, he would have checked to make sure Eren and Mikasa were still in their rooms like they were supposed to be, but he hadn't. The Survey Corps and his duties were the farthest thing from Erwin's mind as he made a beeline for Levi's quarters, pounding on the door with the same urgency the other man had demonstrated only that morning. The awful sound of chair legs scraping against the floor was muffled.

"Calm your tits, Hange- you aren't dying-" The door opened, and one of Levi's brows quirked. "Erwin. I wasn't expecting you-" he blinked hard as the commander barreled past him, pushing his hand off the door handle to close it himself. "…I don't recall inviting you in, but make yourself at home, I guess…"

"What were you and Thomasin doing the other night?" Levi's temporary bemusement quickly returned to apathetic disregard, but there was something… off in his dark eyes.

"Fucking," he answered plainly. "We spent all afternoon and most of the night making sweet, passionate love to one another on my desk."

"Levi…"

"Okay, that was a lie; I would never do something that disgusting on my desk… We were fucking on yours- the betrayal makes it all the hotter. She carried me over the threshold and everything. I felt like a goddamn princess being lovingly cradled in her beefy arms."

"…are you lying, Levi?" A slight scoff.

"What, you think I can't steal your girl? You think your dick is just that good?" Erwin said nothing, just stared at the shorter man. He met the cerulean gaze for a long time, before finally sighing. "Of course I'm lying, you dumb bastard. She loves you. Though I don't know why you suddenly care now- if someone barged into my house in the middle of the night, asking what the fuck they're doing would probably be at least the third thing I'd think of." Erwin pulled the paper from his pocket, stuffed in beside Mike's patch, and handed it to the shorter man, who frowned at it, not moving to accept it. "What the fuck is this?" Maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe his nerves were just stretched too thin and he was hearing things that weren't there, like the almost tremor in Levi's voice.

"It's for you." If it were anyone else standing over him, Erwin was sure Levi would have just scoffed and rolled his eyes and told them to get the fuck out of his office, that he didn't have the time or patience for whatever mind games they were trying to play. But Erwin wasn't anyone else, and as Levi's eyes dropped to the folded paper, despite his clear hesitation, he reached up, taking and unfolding it slowly, carefully.

Erwin watched him more intently than he'd ever watched a Titan, even when its teeth were less than a meter from his head. He saw the tiniest shift in those gray eyes as they moved from one word to another, saw the slight flex in the muscles in his jaw, his throat, the almost imperceptible twitch of his lips… He was so focused on all of those subtle movements that he didn't even catch the hand clenching until the paper was already crumpled in his fist. Levi inhaled, the slightest shudder in his breath not present in his speech.

"Did you talk to her?"

"No. She's still unconscious." Levi turned away from him, facing the door, and Erwin wondered if he wasn't planning on just running out. Why? Where to? "Why is she writing to you? What is she sorry for- why was she with you the other night?"

"…stupid bitch," Levi whispered to himself, "she just needed to wait one day. I told her- I fucking swore-"

"Levi, please." He reached out, grabbing the shorter man's shoulder preemptively, just in case he tried to run, though for whatever reason he couldn't fathom. "Whatever you were doing, I don't care. Do you know why she's sick? Do you have any idea what could be wrong with her, what could be done to help?" The muscles under his palm stiffened, flexed.

"…did she not tell you anything when she got back, or are you just really stupid- I honestly can't tell with you sometimes…"

"She didn't say anything-"

"Nothing? Nothing whatsoever?"

"She… asked me not to go on the expedition-"

"And what did you say?"

"I told her I had to."

"That's it? That's the only thing you said?" Erwin let his hand fall away, completely nonplussed.

"Why does what I said matter? What does this have to do with anything?" Levi was silent. "Levi, you have to tell me." To his surprise, the dark-haired man shook his head.

"I can't." It sounded as though he were speaking through gritted teeth. "I promised that I wouldn't." Bright blue eyes widened, utterly aghast.

"So you do know something! And you're choosing not to say anything, because of a promise!? She could be dying, Levi; who gives a fuck what you promised?!"

"She does. …I have to keep my promises… at least one of them."

"Is this… is this some kind of bloodline thing I don't understand, or-" Levi simply shook his head again, leaving Erwin feeling even more lost, more helpless. "And you can't tell me anything…?" The fingers clenched around the paper tightened their grip.

"…Erwin… if I had marched into your bedroom the other night and ripped your blankets off and woken you up and said, 'Oi! The gimp is gonna die tomorrow'… would you have still wanted to see what was in that basement?"

…even if I say I'll die without you…?

As his mind reeled, Levi grabbed his coat.

"That's what I thought. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Levi…" he reached out weakly, his hand falling just a bit short. "…the two of you were just having sex, right…? That- that was all that happened that night, right? …please say yes…" Levi paused, the door knob turned but the door yet unopened. His shoulders slumped suddenly, and even from behind, he looked so utterly exhausted.

"…god, I fucking wish…"

Erwin watched the door slowly drift closed, a quiet "click" the final sound before he was left in complete silence, nothing and no one to distract him from his thoughts. No… no, h-he could overlook an affair. That was fine- better than fine, even. Levi always made her smile and laugh; if Thomasin went to him for comfort after her worthless husband reminded her that she would always come after everything else, then he was okay with that. He just wanted her to be happy.

…even if I say I'll die without you…?

Don't hate me, but I wish you'd just left me to die in that forest…

It would have been so easy for him to just step off the edge of the Wall- all of these problems would just— The room was spinning- he reached out for something, anything to steady himself, but there was nothing, and suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet him. Erwin curled onto his side, rocking and clutching at the carpet as he closed his eyes against the incessant spinning, 'No… oh, god, no, no… No, it's not… no, no, it can't…' He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe- there was a mountain of corpses crushing him, every mission, every plan, every stupid thing he did adding another lifeless body to the pile. He could hear pounding, but it was muffled and far away, as though his head were underwater.

"-vi? You didn't- yet- right?" He could feel the subtle vibrations in the floor, growing more powerful as something stomped over to where he lay. Hand on his shoulders, and he was on his back, staring up at half of Hange's face. "-win! Erwin!" As close as they were, their voice still sounded muffled. "What's wrong?" Everything… everything was wrong, everything was spiraling…

"Can't… can't breathe…"

"Uhh…!" Their hands went to his throat, siding down his bolo tie and undoing the buttons closest to his neck. "Better?" He shook his head frantically.

"I'm dying… I think I'm having a stroke…"

"No, I think you're okay- I don't think Titans can have strokes." They shifted slightly, and Erwin felt a cool, slightly sweaty hand wrap around his. "Just breathe."

"I can't!"

"Yeah, you can. Like this. Inhale-" They sucked in a deep breath, and despite the pain in his chest, he felt compelled to at least try and follow suit, his own breath shuddering and weak. "-and let it out." Hange blew out a loud sigh, and as Erwin did the same, they continued slowly guiding him through the process of breathing. Slowly, those bands gripping his chest loosened their grip, and the fuzzy edges around his vision began coming back into focus. "Feeling better?" Hange asked quietly.

"A little… I-I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It happens to me, too… a lot more often than I'd like to admit." They glanced away, a deep melancholy turning down the corners of their lips. "After my first expedition, I woke up freaking out so often, they kicked me out of the women's barracks. …Cecile found me in the hall one night and sat with me and held my hand, and told me to breathe just like that. That's how I deal with it…" Erwin blinked slowly as he took in their profile. It was difficult to imagine someone as bright and cheerful as Hange curled up on the floor as panic and dread overwhelmed them. They chuckled slightly, but there was no joy or humor in the sound.

"When I first joined the Scouts, I thought you were like one of those heroes in adventure novels who was never affected by anything… and then, when I realized you were just as human as the rest of us, I thought 'oh, he must have some kind of super-efficient mental exercises to help him cope with all the stress of being a commanding officer'… but I guess you don't. I never dreamed the day would come when I would teach you something." Erwin's fingers flexed around Hange's hand.

"…I cope with stress by ignoring it." He inhaled deeply, another shaky breath. "I keep telling myself that I'll deal with those problems later, but now… it's 'later' and I can't put them off anymore. They're all here… they're all here now, piled up and waiting for me, and I have to do something about them before they all topple over and crush me, but I can't-" The dizziness was starting to come back, the bile in his throat-

"Hey, hey, hey- don't think about that right now. We just got back from an expedition; we have plenty of time to deal with whatever needs to be dealt with. You just need to relax."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can." With a slight grunt, Hange shifted once more, laying down beside him. They lifted his hand, wrapping their other hand around his fist and squeezing gently. "I know everything seems overwhelming and scary and painful now, but it won't be like this forever. No matter how dark the night gets, the sun always rises, right?" Inhale, and let it out. Inhale, and let it out. He nodded weakly.

"Right…" They hummed thoughtfully, tilting their head to rest it against his shoulder.

"I know I don't say this often enough, but… I'm proud of you…" he could practically hear the grin in their voice. "Papa Erwin…"

"Why do you keep calling me that…?"

"I'm afraid that's classified information~" Hange stayed with him for what was either a few minutes or a few hours. As his reeling mind wound down, everything around him seemed to slow with it. It wasn't until the shadows had almost completely engulfed the room that he could finally sit without feeling the world tilt beneath him. Hange offered him their arm as he climbed to his shaky legs.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again as they helped him back to his own quarters. "You're injured, and now you have to look after me…"

"Eh, it's just an eye; that's why I was born with two." They paused, a low, annoyed sound in their throat. "Honestly, I'm more upset that I have to get new goggles made. Those babies lasted me my entire tenure as a Scout." As they opened his door- missing the handle by a fair amount the first time before just feeling for it- and deposited him on the couch, a hint of worry furrowed their brow. "Are you gonna be okay on your own? I have to pop back into Levi's office real quick- I keep a spare pair of glasses in his desk- but if you need me, I can come back-"

"No. I'll be fine. You've done more than enough for me, Hange. Thank you." Still they lingered, doubt twisting their lips.

"…you sure?"

"Yes. I think… I'm going to take your advice for once and just relax a bit. I'll probably turn in early." They smiled a bit, finally reassured, and quietly slipped from the room, leaving Erwin to take in the darkness and silence by himself.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back, the aged leather creaking with every shift of his weight. 'It's always darkest before the dawn, huh…?' Perhaps that was true, but the problem was that he had no idea how far off the proverbial dawn was. Experience had taught him that, no matter how bad things seemed at any given moment, they could always, always, get worse.

000000000

The premier's office looked no different than it had the last time Erwin had visited three months ago, save for the… "art installation" tucked in the corner behind the desk. That was what Zachary called it. It seemed almost gaudy compared to the utilitarian furnishings around it, a throne ornately carved of some deep red wood that only further brought out its crimson upholstery. Even without the strange opening carved in the seat, reminiscent of a birthing chair, it wouldn't have looked comfortable.

The moment his eyes landed on it, the premier had begun boasting that every delicate swirl in the clawed feet was hand carved, every tack in the upholstery hand laid- all by yours truly. Erwin wondered if the four thick leather belts had been tanned by Zachary as well, but he bit his tongue. He had more pressing matters than whatever that faint, foul odor emanating from the red velvet could be.

"I apologize for the poor legibility of my proposal, General," he preemptively said as the older man flipped to the second sheet. "I'm afraid I rather had to rush to write it." Zachary sighed quietly.

"It must be a heavy burden, being such a perfectionist. If I had to switch over to writing with my left hand suddenly, I guarantee you my handwriting would be nowhere near this legible in a year's time, to say nothing of three months." Placing the papers back on his desk, he pushed his wire frames up higher on his nose. "I'm surprised you recommend such leniency towards these soldiers. I understand needing to keep Eren around, at least for now, but you know as well as I that this Mikasa Ackerman's actions would warrant a death penalty."

"I'm well aware of that, sir, and normally, I would agree with such a thing, if only to serve as an example, but I'm afraid these are extenuating circumstances. We have so few soldiers as is, and Mikasa's physical prowess borders on Mike's level, if not Levi's himself. We cannot afford to lose a single weapon in our arsenal, at least, not until we deal with this threat from beyond the Walls."

"Have you gone through those journals, yet?" His fingers clenched behind his back.

"I'm afraid not, sir. There have been… matters… I have been dealing with. Of the personal variety."

"Yes, well, it has only been two days since the expedition. There's no need to rush, Erwin; I know you well enough to know that you'll deliver results."

"Thank you, sir."

"Oh, don't thank me…" The corners of Zachary's lips tugged up ever so slightly. "I'm not that altruistic- I just don't want you burning out." Looking over his lenses at the younger man, there was only a cold, impersonal light in his eyes. "We can't afford to lose a single weapon in our arsenal, after all." Erwin felt the skin on his arms, even the one he had lost, prickle uncomfortably, but his face remained impassive. That unnerving light left Zachary's eyes almost as quickly as it came, and he once more slipped into a genial, almost kindly demeanor. "My sincerest prayers that your wife makes a full recovery. This is certainly a trying time for you, so if the Survey Corps needs any additional manpower, I can authorize some temporary transfers from the other branches?"

"I appreciate the offer, sir, but at the moment I don't think that will be necessary. All I need at present is for you to authorize Eren and Mikasa's transfers."

"Easy enough." The premier rifled through his drawers, pulling out two identical forms and filling them both out, signing and stamping both with a large red seal that bore the military's crest. "I'll send the warrants down to Commander Jones myself, and he can arrange for their escort." Leaning back in his seat, the older man tapped his pen against his desk. "I hope you manage to clear out the reporters before they're shipped off. Seeing two of Humanity's heroes being carted off in shackles might lead to public outcry, especially considering the last time that happened." Erwin's lips thinned into a hard line.

"I was there the last time it happened, and I certainly don't recall any public outcry- if anything, there was widespread public relief… Forgive my candor, General, but I do not give a bawling blowjob what the 'public' thinks about this situation. They are not the ones who have to take on any risks associated with disobedient soldiers. Until these hypothetical outraged civilians personally deal with a fifteen meter Titan with an attitude problem or a murderous teenage stalker, they need to mind their own business; I have more than two soldiers to worry about." To his surprise, Zachary quietly laughed through his nose.

"Your candor is appreciated, Erwin. Alas, we are but slaves to public opinion, so I must ask that you at least try to mitigate backlash whenever possible." Erwin sighed deeply as he saluted and turned to leave.

"Mitigating disaster has been my job for over a decade, General…"

~o0o~

The hospital in Ehrmich was busier than it had been the other day, perhaps because it was still relatively early. There were many men in white coats bustling about, some older but most relatively young- medical students, he realized- discussing words under their breath that may as well have been in a different language. The nurse at the reception desk recognized him, and by the time he'd reached it, she'd already pulled out Thomasin's file.

"The midwife is scheduled to come later today to more thoroughly examine her, Commander, but she's been showing signs of improvement all night."

"That's a relief. Is Doctor…" Erwin trailed off, trying to remember the man's name.

"Jessep?"

"Yes. Is he available? I'd like to ask him something." The nurse cringed slightly.

"I'm afraid not, Commander- Dr. Jessep is leading rounds in our gastrology ward."

"That isn't the ward my wife is in, is it?"

"No, sir- she's in recovery. You can visit her if you'd like, but the nurses will be making their rounds in about half an hour."

"I won't be that long."

"Would you like me to get an orderly to escort-?"

"I remember the way, thank you. Room 214?"

"Yes, sir."

Even the stairs were crowded as a group of doctors walked down to the main level. Erwin pressed himself as far against the banister as he could. In his uniform, with his high leather boots and the massive insignia emblazoned on his back, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He hadn't felt so uncomfortably aware of how out of place he was since the first gala Shadis dragged him to. This wasn't nearly as bad- as least there wasn't a string quintet adding to the general din, but any situation where he wasn't surrounded by his fellow soldiers was an awkward one for him. There were more doctors going in and out of the rooms, but thankfully, when he peeked inside room 214, it was empty save for the solitary figure lying in the bed.

Erwin slipped in as quietly as he could, immediately noting that some of the pillows behind Thomasin's back had been removed, allowing her to recline a bit more comfortably. The window was still open, the thin curtains once more parted. He'd been so distraught yesterday that asking about changing them had completely slipped his mind. The chair had been moved beside the bedside table, the flowers he'd brought set in a plain earthen vase atop it. The ends of the petals were already beginning to dry out and wilt a bit. Erwin knew as little about flowers as he did about medicine; when he'd stepped into the florist the other day, the only way he'd been able to articulate what he wanted was by pointing at whatever white and/or yellow flowers looked most appealing.

He was fairly certain some of them were daisies, but that was the extent of his knowledge. The woman running the shop had spent the entire time trying to up-sell him, but he would not budge. He did not want a gaudy hothouse- he wanted something that reminded him (and hopefully Thomasin when she awoke) of the fields within Wall Maria's territory before the Titans came and gave rise to the lake of red. These would probably last another day or two before they would turn brown and wilt completely. He set about closing the curtains once more- if he caught the nurse who would come to check on Thomasin, he would have to ask them at the very least to leave the curtains closed-

"…Erwin…?" His heart leapt in his throat, and he turned towards the door, but… it was closed. The room was still empty, save… Slowly, he faced the bed, not daring to breathe lest he miss something. Her eyes were open, just barely, but the doctor said that could just be a reflex- it didn't mean- "Are you…?" He saw it, saw her lips move. The curtains forgotten, he closed the distance to her bed in two massive strides, pushing the chair away and dropping to his knees, pain be damned. He had to be closer. He had to see her. It seemed the very act of keeping her eyes open was taking all her strength, but they were open.

"Thomasin, are you awake? Can you hear me?" It was impossible to keep the tremor from his voice, but he didn't care- all he cared about was getting a response.

"Wh-where am I…?" The pain, the fear, the worry and guilt- all of it was washed away by the sound of her voice, hoarse and rough and the most wonderful sound he'd ever heard. He couldn't touch her hand, her arm, out of fear of hurting her but he needed to touch her, so he rested his hand over her hip, pressing his face against the thin mattress beside her arm.

"You're alright…" The scratchy blankets muffled his voice and absorbed the tears leaking from his tightly shut eyes, quickly growing damp.

"Is this… Hell? Am I in Hell…?" Sniffling, Erwin looked up and raised his hand, reverently stroking her cheek, tucking those little flyaway curls behind her ear.

"No, dearest. You're in a hospital room, in Ehrmich. You-" He swallowed hard. "You've been very sick… I was afraid I might lose you… I- I couldn't survive that…" Thomasin blinked, slow and weary.

"Hospital…" she whispered, her brows slowly furrowing as a look of greater and greater distress came over her already wan face. "No… nooooooo… I shouldn't be here… I don't wanna be here…"

"Shh, shh- it's alright. It's okay…" Erwin tried to calm her, but his efforts were for naught as she quickly grew more upset.

"No…! I wanna go back! It's not fair!" The more riled up she became, the more ragged her breathing grew, until she was alternating painful hacking coughs with wet, desperate gasps. He rose, perched on the edge of the bed as he rubbed her back and tried to keep his own growing panic packed down tight.

"You're alright, Thomasin- you can go home soon. Just breathe." He tried to lead her through the same technique Hange had used on him, but he had always known he did not have the same calming effect on people that Thomasin, Mike or even Hange possessed.

He was used to people falling in line when he spoke- he could snap soldiers out of their despondency on the battlefield just by raising his voice and have them ready to charge to their deaths with a few choice words, but if that didn't work, he was lost. And as Thomasin repeatedly reminded him, she was not a soldier. His words fell on deaf ears as her hysteria grew, and suddenly, he felt a sharp sting on his arm. He had been so caught up in trying to calm her that he didn't even notice her flailing- no, her movements were too controlled to be the spastic jerking of a fit. She was hitting him, trying to beat him back, trying to make him move away from her.

"Thomasin, calm down! I'm trying to help you; you're going to hurt your-" Pain exploded in his mouth and he immediately leapt away from her, both hands going to cover his face even though only one made contact with his now profusely bleeding lip. The bandages on her hand were stained with blood, the same blood dripping onto his shirt. She'd finally been given the space she desired, but it had little effect in calming her. Her hands went to her chest, clawing at her gown, her throat, trying to remove whatever was obstructing her breathing but unable to realize that the hand around her throat was that of fear. Erwin tried to keep her in his view as he moved to the door, quickly but not running- if he openly panicked, that would only make her own worse. There were no doctors in the hall- they were probably in the other patients' rooms, but-

"Nurse! Nurse!" She was at the far end of the hall, and her impractical shoes kept her from moving at any speed higher than an awkward shuffling trot. Her eyes widened as she got close enough to see him.

"Commander, what happened to you?!"

"I'm fine. My wife just woke up. She's having trouble breathing- I think she's having a panic attack!" The nurse peered around him, the shock she'd displayed mere seconds ago gone, replaced with a calm determination that rivaled the most hardened soldiers.

"Give me one second, sir. Go back in the room and talk to her- calmly- but don't get too close to the bed." She trotted off to one of the other rooms, slipping inside. Not bothering to close the door, he took a few measured steps towards the foot of the bed.

"Thomasin… can you hear me?" No response. "I know it's hard, but… just try to breathe slowly. You'll feel better, I promise." The look on her face was sheer agony, tears having started to run down her cheeks. They, along with the saliva accompanying every pained heave, dripped onto the hands still clutching and tearing at her chest. Every part of him wanted nothing more than to rush over to her, to hold her, to tell her everything would be alright…

That's what hurts me, Erwin, not this…

That was pain. Not getting bitten by Titans or torn apart by rocks- pain was watching someone you love hurt and being unable to help them. Pain was watching them suffer… alone. The door opened wider and two nurses filed into the room, paying Erwin no mind. The one he'd spoken to approached the bed with the kind of nonchalance that only came from experience.

"Mrs. Smith, I'm going to move your pillows so you can lay down, alright?" Thomasin shook her head so frantically that just watching could induce a headache. Her gasps became louder as the nurse got closer, and when she lashed out, it was closed fist, which struck Erwin as odd at first. She wasn't trying to throw a punch, clearly; she was- her hand was positioned as if she were holding something. A knife… or an ultra-hardened steel blade, an injured, grounded soldier swinging wildly at the massive fingers drawing closer, trying to stave off the threat for as long as possible… The nurse looked over her shoulder at her companion. "Is it ready yet?"

"Just about… hold her down." It was only then that Erwin actually noticed the other nurse. She held a syringe in her left hand that had perhaps two or three centimeters worth of liquid in the barrel. With her right, she was flicking the glass repeatedly with her nail, the same technique shown to the Survey Corps officers by the medical student who had taught (mostly) Levi how to prepare and administer the Titan serum. A keen from the bed filled the room, as terrifying as it was terrified. The pillows had fallen to the floor, and the first nurse put her entire body weight over Thomasin, trying to hold her still. And for all her panic and sickness and the weakness she was undoubtedly still subject to having just awoken from a bout of unconsciousness, the darker woman was still managing to come out on top.

What had Levi told him once?

…you have no idea how strong crazy people can be…

She was still crying, harder than before, her sobs blending with gasps and quickly turning into retching.

"No! No, I don't want it! Get away from me!"

"We're just trying to help you, Mrs. Smith. You'll feel better in a few minutes."

"NOOOO!" The nurse holding the syringe finally approached, rather roughly grabbing the arm that had previously been locked in place. She frowned slightly, pressing down on the junction of Thomasin's inner elbow, looking for something which she must have eventually found as she jabbed the iron tip of the needle into the skin, slowly depressing the plunger and injecting its contents into a vein.

Erwin watched, transfixed in horror, as Thomasin's thrashing and screaming and gasping continued for about fifteen more seconds before both the intensity and volume of her hysterics began ramping down. In a little over a minute, she had fallen completely silent and gone limp. Whether or not she was asleep, he could not tell, but her eyes were closed and her harried breathing had seemingly returned to normal. The nurse that had pinned her down sighed as she straightened, rubbing her ribs in a spot where the patient must have struck her.

"What… what did you do?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer. The nurse who still held the syringe pulled a metal case from the pocket of her apron and set the device inside it before returning it to her pocket.

"A bit of morphin to help her sleep." Sleep? No, she had just woken up- that was the last thing she needed, and he tried to remind them of that. The syringe nurse, an older woman with dark brown hair liberally streaked with gray, frowned deeply, clearly unimpressed with this know-nothing soldier trying to tell her how to do her job. "Sir, it's just a small dose to calm her down. She'll wake up again in an hour, if that."

"But- you could have just talked to her, helped her breathe-"

"We did help her breathe, Commander, as you can see. This method is easier for everyone involved. Or would you rather have our entire nursing staff wind up looking like you?"

"Sister Mater is right, Commander." The other nurse spoke with a kinder, but still firm, tone. "This is standard procedure for dealing with patients who are having a fit. We're sorry that you had to learn why the hard way." His lip still stung, and though he could feel no more blood running down his chin, it still burned on his tongue. He looked back at the bed. Thomasin looked just as deeply unconscious as she had ten minutes ago. It was like nothing had happened, nothing had changed.

"What's going to happen to her now? If she reacts like that again, will you just keep putting her back to sleep and never allow her to wake up?"

"No, sir. We'll have an orderly on standby so that he can restrain her if she becomes hysterical again, but that probably won't happen. She was probably just confused and afraid when she woke up in a strange room- it's not an uncommon occurrence." The nurse sighed. "I suggest you come back tomorrow, Commander. She'll be much calmer after she's had some time to adjust." Erwin wanted to argue, to insist that he needed to stay with her until she woke again, that he could calm her down better than a room full of strangers, but… hadn't he already proven that he couldn't? To insist he knew better than the people whose lives centered around medicine was no different than a nurse trying to tell him how to kill Titans. He nodded slowly.

"Very well. I'll be back tomorrow."

"If you speak to Nurse Camille at the reception desk, she can probably find a doctor who's done with rounds to stitch up your lip, Commander."

"It's fine. We have medics on base." He couldn't tell them the truth. It would come out eventually- if they hid things like this from the public, they would be no better than the government they supplanted, but… he wanted to at least wait until Thomasin was out of the hospital. He didn't want the staff thinking he was a threat and barring him from visiting.

With a final glance at the deceptively calm figure on the bed, Erwin slipped out of the room, keeping his head down as he passed doctors and other nurses, ignoring their inquiries as to what had happened. It wasn't until he finally stepped onto the street, leaning against the building's pristine wall, that he himself realized what was wrong. The taste of metal on his tongue was as strong as ever despite the bleeding having stopped. He reached up, gingerly touching his mouth and wincing. The skin was still split wide open. All the evidence they'd gathered from witnesses and the experiments done on Eren showed that injuries stopped bleeding within seconds, and the skin began stitching itself closed in less than a minute, whatever blood he spilled evaporating just as a Titan's did.

There was still blood on his shirt, on his face. No steam, no heat. No sign of healing.

000000000

A/N- Erwin: *stabs himself in the heart* "OW! That hurts! …wait, is that what I've been doing to other people all this time!? I really am a monster!"

I sure hope nobody was thinking that Thomasin was hiding some secret tattoo like Mikasa and that it was going to be revealed that she's actually a hidden princess of Onyankapon's country or some shit *gags just remembering that idiotic plotline that went nowhere*. There is nothing like that in this story. Thomasin is a completely normal person who just happens to be biracial in a country where that's rare (outside of the elites of Mitras who, remember, are not ethnically Eldians- I feel like there would be a sizable population of mixed people in there, but mostly in the sense of "different breeds of white" mixed, so it's not visibly noticeable). There is something unique about her non-Eldian bloodline, but it's pretty mundane in a setting where people can turn into Titans and inherit their ancestors' memories (she doesn't have super strength or psychic powers, nothing she can consciously use- it's just a genetic anomoly). I had planned on writing a sequel series to this that actually explores the wider world outside of Paradis (instead of just visiting one city in Marley and using that to generalize an entire planet) and focuses more heavily on politics and actually visits that nation (which I was coming up with a name and culture for an everything) and explores themes of diaspora and how biracial people are often divorced from their cultural roots due to having no exposure to that culture… but for as much as I want to write that, I still haven't finished this series and even this alone is hell.

I wonder how long Levi has been waiting to fuck with Erwin by telling him that he and Thomasin are having an affair? It must have been for a while, since he apparently has a scenario already in mind. Did Thomasin brainstorm the idea with him and give him information to help sell the lie, or did Levi just figure out from spending time with her that he would inevitably be the bottom in their hypothetical relationship? He was probably hoping to pull that card out during a less serious conversation- it's no fun to fuck with people when they're already upset about something else. The second this poor man wants to do a little harmless trolling, Erwin gotta ruin his fun by slipping into a diabetic coma or some shit…