Chagara - Chaos in the Darkness (Levi x OC Fanfic / AttackOnTitan)

35. "I cannot back down."

No sooner had he opened his eyes than he threw up. His vomit landed on his hand, neck and chest. It dirtied his sheet, the blanket as well as the floor. It took Peter a moment to understand where he was. "Infirmary." His skull throbbed, his legs hurt like he was still lying in a fire and every breath felt like a sword was stabbing into his chest. "But which one?" He tried to sit up, but the pains would not allow it. He had no choice but to lie in his vomit and wait for help.

Only when he ran his hand over his mouth a second time he realised that he had only vomited stomach acid. "How long have I been lying here?" He wanted to call for help, to make himself noticeable, but no sound came out of his mouth. His throat was parched. On the bedside table he recognised a mug. "Water?" With some difficulty he stretched out his arm, only now recognising the bandage around his right hand. Not believing his eyes, he tore off the bandage. But the space next to his ring finger remained empty. He had lost the little finger.

A soft snore jolted him out of his state of shock. Opposite him, Ron was sitting on a chair, asleep. Tears started to rise in Peter's eyes. In all these years, Ron had never kept vigil at his bedside. Whenever he had come back injured, Paul had always kept him company. He bit into his lower lip as he tried again to sit up. "Is Paul lying next to me?" But all of the beds were empty.

A noise woke Ron up. The next moment the door slammed against the wall and Steve rushed in. "Peter!"

Ron looked in surprise at his former commander's bed. But it was empty. Peter lay contorted in pain on the floor. Steve crouched in front of him. "What are you doing?"

Ron jumped up and rushed to his friend's aid. But like Steve, he didn't know where to touch Peter to help him up. So the first thing he did was to put the bedpan away.

"Where is he?," Peter wanted to know with a husky voice.

Ron reached for the mug and handed it to Peter.

"Paul?" The water mixed with the blood flowing from his lower lip.

"How did he get that injury now?," pondered Steve, taking Peter's head in his hands.

"You'll have to answer a few questions first. So I know your head didn't take any damage. What's your name?"

"Peter Smith." With each sip his voice became louder. Ron refilled his mug.

"When's your birthday?"

"December 7th."

"What are the names of the three walls?"

"Sina, Rose, Maria."

"And who are our enemies?"

"Titans."

"And your wife? What's her name?"

"Steve, cut the crap. None of us are married." Peter emptied the second mug. "Where's Paul?," he asked quietly. But it was enough of an answer when Steve and Ron sat down on the dirty floor next to him.

"I guess Paul won't be getting married either, huh?," Peter finally interrupted the silence.

His friends shook their heads and watched their former Commander cry. They themselves possessed no tears after five days. "How many?," asked Peter, wiping away the snot with his hand.

"Six. Wilhelm, August, Mark, Olaf, Thomas and ... Paul," Ron replied, refilling Peter's mug.

"Have we been kicked out already?," Peter wanted to know.

"No," whispered Steve. "The Commander is overextended with the fact that we beat him to it. He has our written resignations on his desk. All except yours. He won't make a decision until he has yours."