Chapter 7 - At Wit's End

A week had passed since the cat adopted Levi as her guardian and three days from the time of his last therapy appointment. At present, John had Levi on the leg press machine to test the weight threshold of his bad knee. How many kilos did it take to bring about even the slightest pain? As it turned out, any amount was triggering. More than eleven and a half or so though, and it became intolerable.

There was a time when Levi had been able to jump up into the air, anchor his ODM gear to a building on the opposite side of a street, spin his way across while slicing a Titan to ribbons, and then land on the opposite rooftop from four meters above. He hated being reminded that he could no longer do those kinds of things.

Bracing his back against the bench, Levi allowed the weight to slowly lower onto his left leg.A sharp stinging sensation shot through his thigh as soon as his knee began to bend.

This was pathetic.

Staying positive was a constant internal battle. Levi's physical ability had been a defining trait of his for so much of his life that in his current state, on his worst days, it was difficult not to feel like a shadow of the person he once was. Regaining mobility had never been the goal of the therapy, though, and he knew that. His issue was not occupational. Cartilage wasn't something that regenerated. Accepting the disability was an easier pill to swallow than the one dosing him with pain…. He'd been coming to therapy for months, and it wasn't getting better. Maybe it was time to accept that nothing could be done and just start learning to deal with it.

Levi gritted his teeth, hiding his agony behind a mask of slate, and pushed the weight back up.

Once the machine had been reset, John walked over and locked the platform into place.

Standing beside him, John asked, "How did that feel?"

"Like shit."

"Scale of one to ten?"

Levi merely grumbled. John couldn't decipher his answer.

Sighing, he said, "Okay, do some paces down and back with the cane."

Levi grumbled again but did as he was directed.

"Are you doing any of the stretches I gave you to do at home?"

"No."

"Those will help. Especially if you remain consistent."

"I take a walk every night."

"Walking is the best exercise for you, but you need more than to just keep moving. Strengthening the muscles around the joint will alleviate the pain long-term."

"There's nothing left but bone. Quit blowing smoke up my ass."

With a sigh, John crossed his arms. "I don't think your case is completely hopeless, though, and that's my professional opinion. You do have some ligament stability left that is salvageable. But if you're not going to help yourself and do what I say, then there's no point in continuing to come here."

Levi stopped walking and looked down at his stocking feet. He leaned into the cane, transferring all his weight onto his right leg.

Then he looked at John with daggers. "There're other ways I manage. I got a cat." With that, Levi started walking again, trying with everything he had to refrain from hobbling, but to no avail.

John stared as if Levi had just sprouted a second head. He remained silent while he observed Levi's uneven gait.

"You know, drinking isn't a long-term solution to pain management," said John, finally.

Levi stopped mid-step and turned his head to look at the other man. Their eyes met, and Levi immediately knew the comment was not as arbitrary as it was meant to sound. A burst of strength propelled him across the room in record time and brought him chin to chest with John.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Levi demanded.

"What do you take it to mean?"

Levi glared up at the other man with an intensity akin to arson.

John didn't back down, but he cracked almost immediately.

"Gabi mentioned that you might be a little… reliant."

A low growl came out of Levi's throat, and he threw the cane to the ground. He regretted it almost immediately as he lost his balance and teetered sideways. Luckily, John was quick to react and caught him before he fell too far. Levi growled again as he attempted to push John away. He ended up clinging to John's arm though for balance, afraid to let go before he was stable again.

Once his patient had found his center of gravity, John knelt down and picked up the cane. Handing it back to Levi, he continued, "She mentioned it when the two of you arrived here the other day. And as someone who sees you in a somewhat medical capacity, I feel implored to…"

"It's nobody's business," Levi cut in.

"She worries about you."

"Tell her to stop it. I'm done."

John gave another sigh and walked with Levi to the wheelchair parked by gym door.

As the door closed behind him, and he left the therapy office, Levi caught sight of a grey coat and bowler hat across the street. It was the woman this time. She followed him at a distance most of his way home, but he lost track of her about a block and a half before arriving at his stoop. As usual, Levi left his traveling chair outside in its hiding place before slowly making his way up the steps.

Diana's front door opened just as Levi reached his own, and she stepped outside. She quickly locked the door behind her, not noticing he was there, but as soon as she turned around, she smiled and waved.

"Good morning!" she said pleasantly. "How was your appointment?"

"Huh?" Levi cocked his head to the side, brows knit.

"That's where you're coming from, right? Your therapy appointment?"

"Yes…" Levi was inclined to make an excuse and go inside, but the question bothered him. "How did you know that's where I was?"

"Gabi told me."

Levi looked straight forward, focusing on the door's wood grain, and discretely rolled his eyes.

"Is it helping at all?" Diana continued, either not noticing his annoyance or pretending not to.

He huffed through his nose. The damage was done at this point.

"I guess so. I can sort of walk, so I guess that's something."

"What about the recurring pain? Does it help with that at all?"

How much had Gabi told her? Diana obviously knew he had trouble with his knee, but he always made a point not to mention the part about the pain when he spoke with her.

"Not really," he replied.

When Levi finally looked up, he saw that recognizable scrunch between her eyes where pity sat, filling in the creases. He hated that look when it was turned on him.

"I have some bills I need to pay," he muttered then, opening the door. Quickly, he went inside, slamming it behind him.

That evening, when the kids showed up for dinner, Levi made sure to give Gabi an earful.

"I want you to understand. Do you?" Levi demanded.

"Sure. Fine." Gabi rolled her eyes and tried to escape into the kitchen, but Levi blocked her path.

"No. Not fine. My problems are mine. I don't need everybody thinking I'm some hopeless pity case."

"Nobody thinks that," Gabi said. The volume of her voice lowered, and her face started turning pink at the edges.

"Yes, they do. If you saw the way the neighbor looked at me today, you would know."

"I…." The girl's face had gone from light rose to bright red. "I'm just worried about you. I don't know how to help."

"Stop worrying about me. Tell me you understand."

Reluctantly, Gabi nodded. Levi dug his glare into her for a few more seconds, waiting for a verbal acknowledgement. The glassiness in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Finally, he backed away from the threshold and allowed her into the kitchen.

After the kids had gone, Levi fell asleep in bed as Furball slept curled into a ball at his hip.

He didn't remember how the dream started. It didn't feel like he was dreaming at first. This one seemed so real that it was as though he had lived through it. At one point, he realized that the dream was, in fact, more memory than illusion.

Levi was anchored beneath the Founding Titan's skeleton. He hung there, spitting up blood and surveying the scene. The sight of Connie Springer hanging from a single cable, nearly unconscious caught his attention almost immediately. The resurrected ghost of a past iteration of the Cart Titan lunged at him, and without hesitation, Levi leaped to intercept and defer the attack. The next thing he knew, a crushing pressure lit up his leg, and he found himself whipping through the air like a rag doll, his leg bending in the most awkward and tormenting way. Something ripped—he felt and heard it—bringing on white heat that seared his left thigh, so intense that he passed out.

He didn't know how long he'd been out before he lurched back to life. It felt like hours, but from context, he knew it had only been seconds. He'd fallen but he hadn't made it to the ground, finding a set of shaking arms wrapped around his middle. Levi could feel Connie's body against his own, every ounce of strength going toward not dropping him. From the angle he hung, looking down at the ground felt unusual. Something was missing. He felt lighter, uneven.

That's when he spit, and more blood dripped from his mouth as he realized his leg was completely gone.

Levi's eyes shot open. His heart raced, and he felt sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, not unlike the last time he'd borne witness to such vivid and intense dreams. Unusual, morphing shapes twisted before his eyes in the blackness as paranoia overtook him, a sense of suspicion that something in the room was wrong even though he couldn't identify exactly what was or why he felt that way.

His sudden awakening must have disturbed Furball, because he heard a lazy, grumbling meow beside him.

There was a cramp in his leg that had formed as he slept. It was so bad it felt as though it had literally been ripped from his body.

Unable to stop it, Levi curled over the side of the bed, retching, his stomach convulsing, trying its hardest to expel everything it contained. Thankfully, not much came up, but he still felt the tightening sting in his jaw that came with over-salivation.

The scars running across his eye and lips pulsed with each quick, rhythmic, beat of his heart.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

His right eye throbbed in its socket, the pressure feeling like there was a small creature inside his skill kicking at the back of his useless retina. He couldn't remember any other time his face had felt like that. He'd been unconscious when the injury was fresh, and that was the worst it had ever been. The healing process had not been a walk in the park by any means, but it had never hurt as much since then.

As far as the injuries to his face, those were supposed to be fully healed. So why did it feel like his skin was trying to crawl off his bones?

Suddenly, he remembered the woman from the waiting room at the therapy office. He had neither seen nor thought about her since the day she'd spoken to him. But as he slowly regained his sense of equilibrium, her proposal came to mind.

It was then that he decided he needed to talk to her. If she knew of way to make the suffering stop, he needed to know too. He couldn't take it any more.