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The amber liquid gleamed in the light of the single oil lamp sitting on the corner of their desk.
Three fingers. It was a testament to the kind of day they’d had.
The whiskey cast a halo of tinted light onto the oak of the old, sturdy desk, and Hange focused their eye on it, then let the image swim out of focus again, the edges of reality dulled and muddled like the space where the light of the lamp faded into darkness.
They were still getting used to it; the one eye.
It made them think of Erwin and his arm.
It hurt.
Hange took a sip of whiskey, felt it burn its way down their esophagus–clung to that warmth. It was too comforting. Too easy to get lost in.
They couldn’t afford to lose themself like that. Not now.
Hange set the glass back down and rested their chin in the palm of their hand, gently turning the tumbler on the worn tabletop and watching the way the light played off the rippling surface of the drink.
A knock split the suffocating silence, and they blew out a long breath.
The Commander didn’t get downtime. Hange themself had taken advantage of that fact more than once to go bother Erwin at all hours of the day and night.
All of a sudden, they wished they’d let him rest.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Levi stepped into the office that was as much his as it was theirs, and Hange stared.
Levi didn’t knock, and he especially didn’t wait for permission to enter.
Something was wrong.
Levi closed the door carefully behind himself and set the lock before he made his way across the room. He perched himself on the edge of the desk to their left, away from the single source of light in the room and squarely in Hange’s fresh blindspot. They had to turn to face him, watched him cross his arms and stare off into the desolate night outside the windows behind the desk.
“Levi,” Hange acknowledged, quiet and careful. Their fingers found the smooth surface of the whiskey tumbler again, drawing it closer. “Can I offer you a drink?”
They’d been drinking together a lot recently. It wasn’t something Erwin would encourage or even approve of, but Erwin was dead, so fuck him.
Levi didn’t answer for a few long, terse moments. Hange rose to retrieve another glass and the half empty bottle anyway, when a firm hand closed around their wrist and halted them in their tracks.
They turned back to Levi, the next question ready on their tongue, but the look in their friend’s sharp, empty eyes made the words die in their throat.
“I need your help.”
Oh, something was wrong wrong.
“What do you need?” they said without a moment’s hesitation, their guts tying themselves into knots as Levi’s brow creased and his hand dropped from their wrist.
Levi turned away again, most of his profile cast in shadow, his cheekbone highlighted by the glow of the lamp. His jaw muscles worked in silence, as if chewing on the words before finally spitting them out, and his eyes were far away when he next spoke.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
Hange’s hand shot out to their side, gripping onto the desk to steady themself on their suddenly wobbly legs.
They swallowed hard, squeezed their eye shut, forced themself into the role of the unaffected physician instead of shocked Commander or concerned friend.
“...what makes you think that?”
The rushing of the blood in their ears almost drowned out the quiet, shaky breath Levi drew. He didn’t look at them. Hange suspected he couldn’t.
“Been… feeling pretty sick in the mornings lately,” he said and cleared his throat when the words came out too raspy, too affected.
“You’ve also been drinking a lot lately,” they pointed out, as if they could just argue this situation away if they tried hard enough.
“Not that much.”
And wasn’t that the fucking truth. Levi’s metabolism was insane for his size; Hange didn’t think they’d ever seen him hungover in all the time they'd known him.
Levi sucked in an unsteady breath, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and conceal most of his face from view.
“It’s- fuck. I can just- tell. I’ve never felt like this before. Something's off.”
They nodded slowly, and their throat closed up.
“So,” they choked, fingernails digging crescent shapes into the edge of the desk. “what do you need?”
Levi didn’t lower his hand from his face, hiding whatever emotion rippled his features.
“Give me something to get rid of it.”
The words hit them like a physical blow, and they turned to stare into the steady flame of the oil lamp, blinking a few times.
It really wasn’t fucking fair. None of it. Of all times, it had to be now? Three weeks after-
Hange collapsed heavily into their chair and downed the rest of the whiskey in one go. The liquor burned away all the words stuck in their throat, and they could pretend the tears in their eye were caused by the sting of it.
They put the tumbler down. Leaned back in their chair. Stared up at the dimly lit ceiling.
“...you don’t have to. You could have it, you know,” they said after a long, uncomfortable pause, voice scratchy and frayed–from the alcohol, of course.
Levi made a sound like a scoff that wanted to be something else entirely, something vulnerable, something lonely.
Something hurt.
“No.”
They straightened in their seat and turned to face him again, not that they could make out a whole lot of his face. “Levi-”
“No. I won’t be responsible for bringing another unwanted brat into this bitch of a world.”
And Hange knew he was right, of course. There was no way that particular situation could work out, would end in any way other than further heartbreak; in just another person Levi would end up losing down the line, probably. Nevermind the blow it would be to the Corps to lose Levi, arguably their greatest non-titanshifter asset.
They just… really wished he could have this. That things could be different for him. That they could be good.
Hange wanted to see Levi happy so bad their teeth ached, wanted him to have a life off the battlefield and away from bloodshed, calm and peaceful and with the man he loved and had to let go still by his side.
It wasn’t fucking fair.
“...do you have an idea how far along…?” they said softly, and Levi twitched his shoulders, still refusing to meet their eye.
Hange heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand down their face, then righted their knocked askew glasses. It couldn’t be too far along. Very likely somewhere in the first trimester. Perfect time to safely terminate.
“Okay,” they said, mostly to themself, and stood. They moved directly in front of Levi and took him by the shoulders, and at last their gazes met. Levi looked so tired. Seeing the new empty space behind those intense eyes hurt Hange’s heart worse every time they had to stare down that abyss. “I need you to listen to me carefully, alright? I will give you something right now, and tomorrow night you’ll come see me so I can give you something else. Got it?”
Levi nodded. They’d known him for long enough to see the miniscule changes in his expression, and recognise them for what they were.
He was hanging on by a thread.
Hange squeezed his shoulders before they stepped away and picked the oil lamp off the corner of the desk on their way to the cabinet nestled against the far wall, where they’d moved the most essential medical supplies. A lot of people still came to them as a physician, not the Commander, and they’d gotten sick of venturing back and forth between the office and the infirmary real quick.
Hange kneeled and reached past the emergency contraceptives, fishing out the first pouch of powder and squinting at it in the flickering light of an oil lamp in motion. One eye and insufficient lighting did not mix too well.
They rose and kicked the cabinet door shut as they turned back to the desk. Levi lingered in front of it now, arms folded tightly over his middle, fingers curled into the loose fabric of his sleeves at the hollow of his elbows.
“Put this in some water and drink all of it.” They set the lamp down on the desk and held the pouch of powder out for Levi to take. He did, staring down at it without really seeing much of anything at all. “This is just to lay the groundwork. Tomorrow night, I’ll give you the stuff that’s going to flush your system.”
He blinked slowly and gave a small nod. Silence settled heavy between them, only interrupted by the crinkling of the paper pouch in Levi’s grip.
Hange exhaled a long breath through their nose.
“It’s going to feel like bad period cramps,” they went on, quiet but professional. “It’ll start a few hours after you ingest the second medication, and it will probably last a few hours as well. You might feel sick for about a day, give or take. If you feel like something is off, or if you’re losing too much blood, come see me immediately, okay?”
“Okay,” he responded quietly. His voice broke over the single syllable, and with it, Hange’s heart. Again.
They reached out, gently gripping Levi’s upper arms and ducking their head in an attempt to catch Levi’s evasive gaze.
“Okay. I’m putting you on sick leave. Three days. More, if you need it.” Not that Levi would ever ask. Hange was going to have to be the judge of that when the time came.
Levi, to his credit, didn’t argue.
“Thank you, Hange,” he said, and Hange offered a sad smile.
“I’m glad you came to me.” They knew full well that Levi could have gone and gotten the means to see this through on his own, without having to tell a soul in the Scouts–but he chose to come to them. To confide in them.
“Yeah. Me too.”
His eyes still lacked the spark they used to hold when he raised his head to meet their eye, and yet his gaze hardened with a familiar sense of determination. He had never and would never lose that one.
Tears stung their eye as they looked into those eyes, and they yanked Levi close, hugging him tight in a way they didn’t often dare to. “Fuck, Levi- I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Levi stood in their embrace, stiff and uncertain. He patted their back awkwardly, and Hange huffed a wet laugh, finally releasing him to let him step away. Levi cleared his throat and turned, concealing his face in the lingering darkness once more.
“Ain’t your fault the asshole left me one last headache. What a fucking lousy goodbye,” he croaked, and Hange laughed again, scrubbing their sleeve over their eye.
“Guess not. Still fucking sucks, huh?”
Levi cracked the tiniest of smiles, half hidden by the office’s shadows. “Yeah. Fucking sucks.”
He clutched the pouch to his chest, the corners of his mouth turning down again. Hange sobered as well and reached out, placing a gentle hand on Levi’s shoulder.
“If you need anything–anything at all–you know where to find me. My door is always open.” That was all they could do for him. All Levi let Hange do for him.
Levi breathed deeply for a few slow, creeping heartbeats, the medication pouch crinkling gently between his fingers, then raised his head and faced Hange.
“Same goes for you.” His free hand found theirs on his shoulder, squeezing briefly, before he stepped away, footsteps barely audible on the old, creaky floorboards. Hange watched him go, iron bands wrapping around their lungs until they could hardly breathe. “Goodnight.”
The door closed, and Hange was left alone with the oil lamp and the silence.
Their chest seized, and they pressed a palm over their aching heart, making their unsteady way back behind the desk and dropping into the chair.
“What a fucking mess you left us, Erwin,” they said into the stifling silence and blinked their watering eye, shoving a pile of paperwork aside to make space for the whiskey bottle hidden away in the lower desk compartment to their right.
They poured themself another three fingers.
Hange wasn’t proud of it. They chose to blame it on Erwin, because Erwin was dead, and he couldn’t defend himself anymore.
Also, all of this was his fucking fault.
They brought the cool glass to their lips. A tear burned down their cheek like the liquor burned down their throat–they lost themself in the destructive, deceitful warmth of it.
Just for a little while.