This was a hellishly tough chapter to write for me. Kept redoing it because I couldn't figure out how to get it right. Trying to write this 'shift' (for lack of a better word) in Em's personality was really hard and I'm hoping I did it justice. Love you guys.
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When you come to, you've got a massive headache.
Everything feels fuzzy, like someone threw your brain into a tornado and let it spin around for a while before settling it back in your head. You scrunch your eyes shut, trying to ward off the pounding in your head. You try to raise a hand to your head, but you can't. You're pinned down.
Dizziness gives way to panic, and you're quickly forcing your eyes to open and your gaze to focus. The room is white, blindingly so, and it takes you a while before you can get your vision to clear.
Plain white walls and one door. Matching white ceiling and white tiled floor. You're in a chair that's angled so that it's leaning back, wrists strapped down to the arms of the chair. There's a small cart next to your chair, nearly empty- save for one small silver tin- and a chair on wheels. A table lies at the side of the room with two large device screens.
No one else is in the room. Just you and some damn white walls.
You pull angrily against the restraints but to no avail. What happened? You vaguely remember something happening in your room- fighting someone that came in. Then, a sickly sweet smell, and now... here.
The Capitol. It's always the fucking Capitol.
Fuck- someone captured you. Traute or whatever the hell her name was. "Fuck," you mutter under your breath, tugging against the straps again. "Fuck!"
How do you get out of here? Where even is 'here'?
You've spent all of two minutes struggling with your restraints when the door opens and you immediately straighten up. A man and a woman- neither of whom you recognize- enter the room, carrying clipboards. You wait for them to say something, but neither of them do. "Hey," you say. "Where am I?"
Neither of them reply to you. "Commencing trial one," one of them says, setting their clipboard down on the cart. They pick up the silver tin.
Your eyes zero in on the tin as they open it and pull out a needle. "Oh, hell no," you snap, and when the other person's hands grab your head to tip your neck sideways, you start to squirm. "Don't touch me, don't-"
There's a pinch. You hiss through your teeth as the two of them back away.
Huh. The room is spinning. "What the fuck," you mumble, head drooping.
You're out within seconds.
.
Something's definitely not right.
It's like you're submerged in murky water, floating aimlessly through an abyss and you can't see any of your surroundings. But every time you try to swim, try to move through the haze, it gets worse. It blocks you.
Why is this happening? Why is this-
Almost like you've been electrocuted, you shoot awake, jerking against the straps tying your wrists down to the arms of the chair. You try to gather your surroundings but recognize it as that white room, the white room you'd fallen asleep in. Not fallen asleep in- passed out. Right?
That's weird. Something's not right in your head.
"Hello," someone says. Your head twists so fast that something in your neck cracks. It's a tall man with crisp black hair and a weirdly styled beard. He's dressed in a white lab coat thrown over what you're sure is an expensive suit. "You're safe here. The Capitol saved you."
You stare at him blankly for a second. He can't be serious, can he?
"I'm not sure how much you remember," the man says carefully, in such a way that indicates that he knows exactly how much you remember, "but you were in the arena. Do you remember that?"
Arena. District 12's female tribute, sent off to the games. Yes. You remember.
Slowly, you nod. The man's lips twitch slightly. "Good. There was a rebellion and a rebel group blew up the forcefield in the arena. You were nearly killed in the escape."
That doesn't sound right. You're not sure why it doesn't, but it just... doesn't. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to recall exactly what happened. The arena, a forcefield... something about a forcefield exploding, flying through the air...
Why can't you remember more? You remember traipsing through the forest with Levi, trying to go... where? Fucking hell, why can't you remember-
"The rebellion must be stopped," the man says, dragging you from your thoughts. "President Reiss knows we can count on you to help us stop it."
President Reiss.
By order of President Reiss-
Something clicks in your head.
President Reiss- the head of the Capitol. The same Capitol that killed your parents, the same Capitol that has sent hundreds of children to their deaths, the same Capitol that you hate and want to see burned to the ground.
You hate the Capitol. There's no way they saved you. You won't help them, you'll never do anything to help them, you hate them, you want them to burn-
With a howl, you swing up one of your legs and kick the bearded man as hard as you can. He yells out as he goes tumbling backwards, clutching his side. You pivot in your seat as much as your restraints will allow you to and you lash your foot out again, kicking one of the carts. The cart goes spinning into him.
The man curses, but you've got more pressing issues. You tug furiously at your restraints, but they don't budge. Can you dislocate your thumb and maybe slide your hand out? Maybe you-
The door opens; you jerk your head up. Four Peacekeepers enter, all with their guns raised and pointed at you. It deters you, makes you pause in your fight to get free from your chair prison. You glare at each of them, silently daring them to shoot you.
Another man walks in from behind them. It's Rod Reiss.
Immediately, you fight against the restraints again. "You asshole," you choke out, throat dry and words painful, "fuck you and your fucking Capitol and-"
"That won't do," Rod says dismissively. "Let's try it again."
Try it again? Try what again?
Then, there's a pinch in the side of your neck. Your eyes widen slightly when you turn to see that bearded man you knocked over holding a needle, and you barely have time to get out, "you asshole," before you pass out.
.
"What do you think they're doing to her?"
Hange's voice is hollow, matching how Erwin is sure everyone feels right about now. There's a heaviness to the atmosphere, a weight sinking onto the shoulders of the both of them, caused by the loss of you.
It's more than that. You're the figurehead, the staple of the rebellion, the Mockingjay. You're still Erwin's wild card, but you've become so imperative to the success of the rebellion that Erwin knows how dire this situation is.
You're in every propaganda video they put out. Mockingjay symbols have been found graffitied in the districts. You are beyond important now; you are imperative.
"Best case scenario," Erwin says measuredly (because if he doesn't stay composed, who will?), "they're holding her captive and waiting for the right opportunity."
Hange's sad expression doesn't change. "And the worst case?"
Erwin almost doesn't want to say. Eventually, he does. "Brainwashing."
Their eyebrows knit together. "Not torture? Not execution? You think brainwashing is worse than that?"
"I do," Erwin agrees. "Because they can twist everything she stands for and everything she hates into being whatever they want. Our intel tells us that they've been working on a version of tracker jacker venom- if it works as intended, she could be facing highly realistic illusions that are warped to whatever they want her to see."
Hange straightens up. The sadness in their eyes replaces itself with worry. "Right. The tracker jacker venom," they say quietly. "If they can do that- if they can show her visions that she starts to believe are true and they start to replace her own memories-"
"They could make her the figurehead of the Capitol," Erwin confirms.
The two of them stare at each other for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
"Shit," Hange whispers.
"We need a plan," Erwin says. "Fast."
.
Semi-consciousness comes to you in the form of haziness.
Like you're walking through a cloud. A thick cloud, something pushing at your skull and something probing at your memories, trying to fiddle with them. Not exactly erase them, but someone trying to... twist them.
You need an anchor. Something you can hold on to, something to keep you sane as it feels like your brain is going through hell and back.
Levi. Levi can be your anchor.
So you picture him. You picture his face, you try to remember the feeling of his forehead against yours, of his breath against your lips, of his fingertips tracing your jaw. You try to remember it all, because it feels like your memories of the arena are becoming scrambled and you desperately need something to hold on to.
You'll hold onto him. That, you can do. You'll hold onto him in your mind until you can figure out how to get out of here and hold onto him for real.
Your head hurts. Darkness takes your mind again.
.
Levi thinks he's going mental.
He thought it was ridiculous before, how much of his thoughts you would occupy- how he'd wonder what you were up to when he wasn't with you and how he'd wonder what you were thinking when you were right in front of him. The amount of space you'd taken up in his head had been bizarre.
But that feels like nothing compared to now. Before, your presence had been a molehill. Now, it's a fucking mountain.
Levi can't stop thinking about you. He physically can't. You're at the forefront of his brain and you will not move. He would say that he's losing his mind, but clearly he isn't, since you're still here and your face is as clear as ever.
He should go get you.
Levi straightens up. Yes, he can do that. A one-man infiltration party. He can be in and out before the Capitol even knows he was there. And he'll have you with him.
If you're not dead. If you're not physically incapacitated. Because he can't carry you and fight his way out at the same time-
No.
Levi doesn't let himself think about what could go wrong. He can't, he doesn't want to let himself think about it- he just needs to do something. Yes, he needs to do something. He can do something. He's the best damn fighter in this rebellion. He can do it.
Yes. He can do this.
Levi jerks up from the ground, pulling himself to his feet. He takes the knife that he'd been digging into the floor and tucks it into his boot. He staggers across his room, nearly slipping on all of the desk debris as he heads to the door.
He pulls open the door and nearly trips over a figure on the ground. "What the fuck?" Levi says aloud, pausing before he can stumble. "Hange?"
"Levi!" Hange says from the floor, pushing up to their feet. "Hi, I've been-"
"What the fuck," he says flatly, "are you doing on the floor outside my room?"
"Waiting for you!"
He wants to interject. He wants to say something along the lines of you could've just knocked or something to that effect but it's no use, because he wouldn't have answered. Hange's eyes are darting behind him, surveying the damage in his room, and Levi moves to shut his door so that they can't see.
Hange steps in front of him so that he can't go forward without running into them. "Wait, wait, wait."
"For what?" he snaps, because Hange's just getting in his way-
"Where are you going?"
"To do something," Levi says sharply, sidestepping Hange, "because I doubt anyone else is."
Hange steps in front of him again. Levi has to step back so that he doesn't accidentally hit them. "Erwin's working on something," Hange says quickly, bringing their hands up to Levi's shoulders. "They're planning right now, a bunch of them-"
Levi knocks their hands away. "We don't need planning, we need someone to fucking do something."
He steps around them right as Hange says, voice nearly cracking, "Levi, we don't know where she is."
"I'll find her."
"Levi, they've got- they've got who knows how many buildings and a head start," Hange says desperately, and Levi stops in the middle of the hallway. "We don't even know where to begin. Erwin's contacted our insiders who are going to do everything they can-"
"Everything's not enough," Levi snaps, whirling on Hange. "They're going to kill her, Hange!"
"You think I don't know that?!"
He pauses, catching his breath. He often forgets that other people care about you too, not just him- and Hange is one of them. Hange, breathing hard and blinking rapidly at him with red eyes. Hange, who had to watch while the two of you avoided several near-death scenarios in the arena. Hange, who's used to watching people go away and having to hope they come back in one piece.
They look like they're struggling with words. Levi fills in for them. "Hange," he says, doing his best to keep his voice level, "I can't just fucking sit here and do nothing."
"Well, neither can I," Hange retorts, blinking furiously, "so I'm here. To make sure you don't do anything stupid. Because I need to do something and handling you is something I can do."
"I don't need handling," Levi objects immediately, bristling at the idea. "I just need-" he pauses to keep his voice from breaking- "I just need her back."
"Everyone does," they reply, hands waving in the air, "which is why Erwin is working to-"
"Fuck the goddamn rebellion!"
Hange deflates. Their shoulders drop.
"Fuck this goddamn rebellion," Levi says lowly, simmering with rage, and he wants to hit something, break something to release the anger he's feeling, "because what the fuck has it ever done for us? The rebellion doesn't need her- I do."
Hange's lips part. No sound comes out.
Levi repeats it because he can't quite believe he said it. "I need her, Hange," Levi says, head spinning. "I can't just sit here."
"And she needs you too," Hange says in return, voice wavering but growing a bit stronger as they continue to speak, like they've finally figured out what they need to say. "And she needs your best version, Levi. When that rescue mission is planned and you're on it, she'll need you in your best form. Not- not angry or vengeful. Smart and rational. She needs that from you."
It's hard to argue with that, but fuck does he want to. Levi wants to yell, he wants to scream, he wants to hit something until it breaks.
But he already tried that. And it didn't help.
Hange's right and he hates it. He hates it because Hange being right means there's nothing he can do. It's like he's a gladiator all over again- accept it, there's nothing you can do, this is just how it is- and Levi suddenly feels tired. Very tired.
Hange seems to realize that he's not going to argue, and they step towards him, taking Levi's arm. "Come on," they murmur, and Levi lets them guide him back to his destroyed room.
Who is he to argue? Because Hange's right- there's nothing he can do.
He wonders if you're thinking of him too.
.
You wake up again. You curse people out. You're put back under. It happens again, and you feel drowsy and confused but you still keep sputtering curses until they knock you out again.
But the next time you wake up, you can hear voices.
You keep yourself still and you listen. It takes a moment, but eventually, you manage to clue in to what a male voice is saying. "We just haven't been having success," he's murmuring, and he sounds worried. "She's resistant. More so than any other patient we've tried this on."
"Of course she is," you hear someone else grumble, and you recognize the voice as Rod Reiss. It takes everything in you not to launch yourself up and curse him out; listening will be more productive than attacking. "She's a fucking pain in the ass. We should just kill her."
You tense up without meaning to. Hopefully, they didn't notice.
Someone else speaks up. "Wait. There could be another option."
That's not a voice you recognize. You hold your breath as Rod snaps, "Zackly, this better be good."
Zackly? As in Darius Zackly? The man whose champagne glass you shot? "So she won't be good for what we want," he's saying, and you're struggling to make out the words, "but she could still be useful. We can't reform old memories or go against her primal feelings, but we can tackle something more recent and twist it. We've already been messing with her arena memories, right? Take it further. Don't turn her against us, because-"
"She's awake," the first voice that you never got around to identifying says.
You let your eyes shoot open, finally getting a good look at the voices. "Talk any louder and you would've woken up the whole neighborhood," you snap. "Oh, wait! That's just me."
Rod glares at you. You wish you could light him on fire. "I say we kill her."
"Try it, asshole," you return.
"She's still got use for us," the man with the white hair says- Zackly. He moves away from the group and towards you, heading for one of the silver carts. "They'll come for you," he says patiently, looking at you. "If what I saw in the arena was anything to go by."
"You're the fucker that gave me a twelve, aren't you," you say, tugging against your restraints. "Really fucked up with that one, didn't you?"
"She's heard us, Zackly," Rod Reiss says warningly.
You roll your eyes. "If you didn't want me to hear you, then go to literally any other room to talk about me. How many brain cells do the three of you share? One, on a good day?"
"It's fine," Zackly says, as if you'd never spoken. He pulls out a needle out of a silver tin; you tense up. "She won't remember any of this anyways."
What's there to remember? "You fucker," you curse as he comes to you with the needle in hand. "Get the fuck away from me-"
A hand shoves your head to the side. Something pricks your neck. "I'm going to enjoy this," Zackly says.
"I'm going to kill you," is the last thing you manage to get out before you pass out once again.
.
"Here."
Something's shoved into his hands. Levi blinks and looks up to Hange. Had they left at some point and returned? He's so out of it at this point that he hadn't even noticed.
He looks down. There's a notebook in his hands, and a pen laying on top of it.
"What?" he says dumbly.
"You want to do something, right?" Hange presses the pen into his hand. "Then write. That's something. Write it all down."
Levi's mouth opens, then closes. "This is the stupidest suggestion you've ever given me," he says, "and that includes your stunt with the barbed wire."
Hange chuckles weakly. It makes Levi's chest loosen just the tiniest bit. "I, uh, I caught Historia in the hallway once, the day after the games ended," Hange murmurs. "She was... well, grieving. I suggested writing. She came to me a few days ago to tell me how much it helped her, so... maybe it'll help you too."
"My handwriting is shit," is all Levi can think of to say.
"Are you kidding me? You've got the cleanest print I know." When Levi says nothing else, they smile wryly. "I'm going to see Erwin. I promise that the second I know anything, you'll know it too."
All Levi can do is nod. Hange squeezes his arm one last time and leaves, tiptoeing around the broken desk and shutting the door gently behind them.
That leaves him alone with a pen and a notebook.
Well...
Levi opens the book. He clicks the back of the pen. He brings it to the paper, then pauses. He doesn't even know where to start.
How about with your name?
He writes Twelve. It doesn't feel right. He tears the page out, folds it twice, and sets it aside. He tries again, and this time, it feels a bit more right.
Em.
.
Hm. This is different.
Your head hurts, but it's almost a... soft pain. Like you're drifting, floating on your back in a river. Aimlessly letting yourself get swept away with the current.
Until it isn't that easy and you're swaying, sinking, losing yourself to currents, and your head hurts- fuck does your head hurt- and you're going to spiral.
You need your anchor. Levi's your anchor, right? You just have to keep him in mind. Picture him and the moments you shared together... moments like what? Well, maybe just focus on him then. On the way he moves, on his face, the way his hair falls in front of his eyes...
What color are his eyes?
You can't remember.
Your mind slips away again.
.
It takes a few tries before Levi's satisfied with what he's written. Even then, he thinks he'll rewrite it.
But Hange was right. It gave him something to do, even if just for a bit. Something to occupy his mind. They're right: you need him and you need him to be levelheaded, to think options through, and to fight as well as he knows he can.
You'll be back soon. He knows you will.
Levi stares around the wreckage in his room. When they save you, you'll likely want to stay here, with him. He should clean up.
Feeling slightly more optimistic than before, Levi hops off his bed and sets to work cleaning up the debris.
.
Someone's trying to kill you.
You're falling off the side of a cliff, desperately scrambling for something to hold on to, and someone's standing above you, watching you struggle. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this is just a dream- but there's a part of it that feels real, scarily real.
You concentrate more, trying to distinguish your attacker. Their face starts to come into focus and the blur fades. Sharp jawline, narrowed eyes, shaggy black hair...
Levi?
Panic starts to set in. Things feel jumbled in your head, like you can't quite make sense of it. Things are bouncing around, jostling your brain. Something's wrong, something's seriously wrong- what's going on?
That face pops up again, that dark expression and that hollow gaze- who is that?
Levi.
Is that Levi? What did he do?
And then you're seeing flashes of rubble and destruction, destroyed buildings and bodies tossed left and right- District 12, that's District 12, that's your home, that's your life- but it's all gone, all ruined, everyone's dead, they're dead-
Levi.
That face pops up again, and your head feels like it's splitting in two. Levi, and then the disaster that is District 12, your home. You want this- whatever this is- to stop, to be done with, because all you can see is your ruined life and then that face and then whispers and it all hurts.
"That's enough for now."
Everything goes black again.
.
Levi's door is thrown open so abruptly that it bangs against the back wall. He jerks himself up from his bed. He hadn't been sleeping, not really. How has he been expected to? It's been over twenty-four hours without you. How has he been expected to sleep?
Hange's at his door, and Levi can't help but get his hopes up at what their presence means.
"There's a plan and we leave now," Hange says breathlessly.
He doesn't hesitate, not even for a second.
Hange turns and runs, and Levi's right on their heels.
.
The vision's back. The ruins of District 12. Decimated buildings, corpses littering the streets- but you've seen this dozens of times now, why are you seeing this again-
What happened here? Why is District 12 like this?
A face appears. A name is whispered, like a serpent hissing in your ear.
Levi.
Levi? Is it his fault? How can a single person be responsible-
There's a new vision now, bright and blinding. You're on the top of a cliff, and over the edge there's nothing, nothing but open air. There are people, people you can't see, faces you can't make out-
Then you're slipping, and you're going over the edge of the cliff, arms reaching for anything that could save you, and finally, finally, you can see a face, the face of the person who's pushing you off the edge-
...Levi?
That cold glare is the only thing you can see as you fall, oxygen stripped from your lungs so that you can't even scream. Wind is whistling in your ears. You're back in that haze, submerged in that murky nothingness, and you want to scream but you can't.
And then you're on the ground.
You're laying on your back, laying in the grass, staring up at blindingly bright lights. You blink stupidly, trying to clear your vision, but the bright lights stay, blasting down on you.
There's a glint- sunlight reflecting off of something. A blade?
Then a sword comes striking down, and the second it strikes your neck, you can feel your brain splitting in two, and your head is splitting and everything hurts and you scream-
You jolt awake.
You gasp desperately for air, and the cool taste of it stings your throat, your throat that was milliseconds away from being sliced open. You try to raise your hands to your neck but you can't; you're restrained. You're fucking restrained-
"Take it easy," someone encourages.
You turn towards the voice. It's a young woman, auburn hair tied into a high bun. "Are you feeling alright?" she asks politely, leaning towards you. "Looks like you had a bad dream. Do you remember any of it?"
Who is she? Why does she care? But you can't stop the words from falling from your lips: "someone trying to kill me."
"How?" Her eyes are gentle but firm. "Was it with a sword?"
Something coming down on your neck. That was one of your visions earlier.
Subconsciously, you tuck your chin down, as if trying to hide more of your exposed neck, and she notices immediately. "Yes," she says, nodding along. "Levi Ackerman, the District 2 tribute, tried to kill you."
Levi. That's the name you keep hearing, the face you keep seeing. It makes you feel uncomfortable; it makes you fidget anxiously in your seat.
You wrack your brain, searching for what memories you can drag up. Your brain feels scrambled; nothing quite lines up right. You see Levi, see him standing on top of that cliff next to you, feel you falling to your stomach and nearly sliding over the edge. Wait, no, that doesn't feel right... why can't you remember?
"He was a tribute in the arena with you," the lady pushes softly. "Do you remember that?"
"...I do."
"He tried to kill you."
He tried to kill you. Fuck, he tried to more than once. "You saved me?" you ask tentatively, because that doesn't quite feel right either. "Who are you?"
She doesn't answer your question. "Levi Ackerman was part of a team that blew up your district. District 12 is in shambles."
You'd seen that in your visions too, and that had felt very real. Your stomach churns. "You haven't told me who you are," you say warningly.
"I'm someone who cares."
That feels wrong. "Capitol," you say.
She stares at you for a moment, and the lack of response confirms your suspicions. "Capitol," you repeat, tugging against your restraints. "Get away from me."
Her kind expression melts into one of disgust. "Can't say I didn't try," she grumbles as she goes for another needle. "Zackly's shit better work."
"Zackly can try his fucking best," you retort before you're injected and you pass out again.
.
Levi doesn't even know what the plan is. He hasn't been listening.
Not that he hasn't tried. But the very second that Mike gave him a location and how they were going to get there (courtesy of their inside man, according to Erwin), he'd tuned out. He's suited up, katana on one hip and his gun on the other. The squad is small, similar to their raid to free the Capitol prisoners.
He's just glad that Erwin had never tried to argue with him about going. Nothing about being too 'emotionally invested' or some bullshit like that. Because if someone had tried to tell Levi to sit this one out, they'd be a dead man.
Their aircraft lands well outside Capitol headquarters. Levi would recognize the main building if he saw it, but he doesn't think that's where they're going. He follows Mike as the general takes them into the side door of one building, then down into a basement, then through a doorway hidden behind a bookshelf.
Levi doesn't care about the specifics. All he cares about is you. You, you, you.
He doesn't care when some of the group split off (he'll find out later that they were going to the control room). He doesn't care when Mike starts giving out instructions and directions. He listens long enough to know where they're going and that's it.
He also doesn't care when Mike raises a hand to stop the group. Levi keeps walking, but Mike stops him with a hand to the chest. "Peacekeeper squad around the corner," he mutters.
Levi pauses. He cranes his neck around the corner of the hall, and sure enough, he sees the backs of maybe two dozen Peacekeepers. Two squads worth. Mike tugs him back around the wall, but Levi's not planning on staying.
"Levi," Mike hisses through his teeth, his voice as loud as he dares, "wait for team two. When they get to controls, they can-"
Fuck them. Levi doesn't care.
So he shakes off Mike's grip, rounds the corner, and draws his blade.
.
You wake up again.
This time, it feels different.
You're not sure what's different, but it must have something to do with how... fine your head is. The plague of a headache has left you, and you finally feel like you can think again. Everything is oddly clear. It's nice.
The first thing you notice about the room is that the cart is gone. No more things they can inject you with- thank fuck. You shift in your seat, trying to straighten yourself, and you hear, "how're you feeling?"
You crack your eyes open. It's a scientist of some sort- not one you recognize. But then, your head has been hellishly scrambled until now, so maybe he's been here and you recognize him. "Like I could bench press the president's ego," you say.
His eyebrows rise. "Well."
"You expected something different?"
"Can't say I did." He turns to his tablet and begins to type something on the screen, then he turns back to you. "Can I show you a series of images? I'd love to hear your thoughts."
"Do I have a choice?" you grumble.
The scientist doesn't reply. He turns back around, types a bit more, then turns back to you with a stack of paper. He pulls up a sheet; it's the fucking president. "Thoughts?"
"I think he should fall into a coalmine covered in gasoline and I should be allowed to light him on fire," you say pleasantly.
"...and him?"
It's Zackly- at least, you think that's him. "I want to set fire to his beard."
"And him."
Now, it's a picture of your district partner, Zeke. The Hunger Games still feels like a fuzzy mist in your brain, but you remember one thing clearly: this guy was a dick. "If he never reproduces, then I'd say that it's the most useful thing he's ever contributed to society."
The scientist's lips twitch; he banishes the smile nearly immediately. "Him."
It's a blond boy. Small, wide blue eyes. You frown- he looks familiar. "One of the tributes I was in the games with?" you guess. You've talked to him before, you're sure of it. When? Oh, you've got it- knot tying. "Armin, I think."
He sets the picture down and grabs a new one. "And this woman?"
"District 2 girl, I think," you murmur, narrowing your eyes at the woman glaring at the camera with slanted eyes and dark hair. Her name- what's her name?
"And her."
A blonde girl. Bright, hopeful eyes. She looks familiar too. "Another tribute, I guess," you say with a shrug. "I'm not sure what you want from me- I didn't really get cozy with any of them."
That makes the man pause. He sets his pile of sheets down and rifles through them. You exhale, letting your head tip back. This is stupid. You just want out of these damn restraints and out of this damn building- for fuck's sake. How long does the Capitol plan on holding you here?
"And how about this man?"
He flips to a new picture.
It's Levi.
Immediately, you tug against the restraints. It's him- him, Levi, he's responsible for it all, for all that shit you went through in the arena. District 12 is in shambles and you see his face every time you picture it. You pull angrily at the restraints, filled with a sudden desire to get free and do something, hit something, anything.
It's weird, this sudden rage inside of you. Not unfamiliar, not in the slightest- your hatred for the Capitol can't be topped- but it's brought back your headache, the headache you were so happy to get rid of. That's annoying as hell.
The scientist looks pleased. "I'm glad you remember," he says, his voice layered with a false sort of kindness. He turns to the screen behind him; you see him typing things into some sort of log. "And the Capitol?"
He's expecting you to say something negative. About how much you hate the Capitol. And you want to, you really do- but you think you can get out of this if you play your cards right. "They can help me kill him?" you say.
He straightens up, looking back to you. "They can," he agrees. "Perhaps you don't like them, but your goals are aligned."
Playing to your interests. A smart move to play on a dumb person, but you're not dumb- you have no interest in being manipulated. You're happy to do the manipulating yourself. "Okay," you agree, eyes flickering to the picture again. "I just- I just want him dead."
"Excellent," he says, and the excitement is barely contained in his voice. "You should speak with the director. We can establish a plan."
Director. You don't know who that refers to, but you don't think he means Rod. "Happy to," you say, and you tug lightly against the restraints. "Do you tie down everyone you make an alliance with?"
The scientist looks to you, then to your restraints. The screen goes dark behind him.
You sigh. "What the hell am I going to do from here?" you say dryly. "Come on. I only get something by cooperating."
The fucker believes you. You can tell he does, because you're right- what the hell do you expect to do from here? You're a smart person, right? You wouldn't try to do anything futile.
Well, he obviously doesn't know you very well. As soon as he's got both restraints off, you punch him straight in the nose.
The scientist howls and staggers backwards, clutching at his face, and you spring from your chair. It all comes to you instinctively: you grab for his shoulders, snake your leg behind his, and tug him. Off balance, the scientist trips over your leg and crashes to the ground, and his head smacks hard off of the tiled floor. He doesn't get up.
You don't have the time to ponder where you learned how to do that- you certainly don't remember learning how. But you've got other priorities.
You storm to the door, tugging at it. Locked. You look up: there's a black device in the corner of the room, behind your chair- you never had an angle where you could see it before. It looks like a security camera. "Let me out, Reiss," you demand, glaring angrily at the camera. "You cowardly fucker! Come face me yourself!"
A new scent enters your nose and you scrunch your face up. You study the room: vents above where you were seated are opened. You can't hear it, but you can vaguely make out some kind of mist.
Knock out gas, or something to that effect. Fuck. You laugh maniacally, spinning in a slow circle. You notice blood on your knuckles as you raise your middle finger to the security camera. "Dick move, Reiss," you snarl. "Or Zackly. Whoever the fuck I'm talking to."
You've got no chance of getting out of here. Fine; you'll try again when you wake up next. It's just you against the Capitol right now. "Doesn't get much better than this," you say to yourself, grinning.
You start to feel woozy. You look back at the security camera. "Such a fucking coward," you curse, your words starting to slur. "Can't deal with me yourself. Come on, Rod. God, I hate you so much. You fucking asshole."
The world is slipping away, once again. At least this is a bit more pleasant than a needle injection.
"I hope you see me in your nightmares," are the last words out of your mouth before you sink to the ground and pass out.
.
He doesn't care.
He doesn't care that he's practically bathing in blood. He doesn't care that the floor is now littered with the bodies of dead Peacekeepers. He doesn't care about the blood staining his clothes and his gloved hands and his blade, his precious katana that he normally hates staining. None of it matters.
Levi lets Mike lead the way down the hall. It feels like there's a rumbling in his skull, providing some sort of white noise that's drowning out everything around him. It helps.
It helps block out the anxiety. It helps keep his panic at bay. Questions that keep popping up in his head- will you even find her? What if she's dead?- are suppressed. It's the only way he's getting through this.
Mike stops the two of them at a door. He says something into his communication device that Levi doesn't care enough to listen to. He doesn't listen until Mike taps him and says, "she's through here."
And immediately, Levi's at attention. He sheathes his katana and starts for the door, but Mike seizes his arm. "It's locked and filled with gas," he says. "Controls team is venting the room and then they'll unlock it. Then, we get out of here."
Levi realizes he's waiting for a response. He nods. Mike accepts it and lets go of him.
Fuck, you're right there. You're right there. You're right on the other side of this damn door- with gas in the room? What kind? Toxic? Fuck, were you poisoned? Did the Capitol see them coming and kill you?
His heart rate is quickening in his chest. Levi doesn't feel like he can breathe.
Then, he hears a crackle of static from Mike's walkie, and he doesn't wait for Mike's permission. He throws open the door.
There's two figures on the floor. One of them is you.
Levi makes a beeline for you. You're on your back on the floor, wearing some sort of hospital gown, eyes shut and lips slightly parted. Heart in his throat, Levi presses shaky fingers to the side of your neck, hating that this is the second time he's ever had to do this and praying that he doesn't get the same results that he did last time-
There's a pulse. You've got a pulse.
Levi could cry. The weight of the world falls off of his shoulders. "Pulse," he forces out, and he looks to where Mike is, by a desk at the side of the room. "She's got a pulse."
Mike nods, smiling softly. "Good. Looks like she dealt some damage too."
He looks to the other figure on the ground. A tall man, dried blood coating his face, passed out on the floor. Levi reaches for your hand, gingerly pulling your arm into him. There's blood on your knuckles.
"Fuck, I love you," Levi mutters, not even slightly surprised that the words came out of his mouth. He starts to gather you into his arms, still shaking, and it's only when he's gathered you into him that he feels like he can totally relax. You're here. You're alive. You're in his arms. He found you.
Levi shudders. He leans toward you and kisses your temple, then presses his forehead to yours.
He's never leaving you again. Never.
When Mike tells him they need to go, Levi listens. He rises, cradling you in his arms, careful to keep your head balanced on his shoulder. Mike gestures to him with some sort of thumb drive, then points to the computer screen at the side of the room. He's downloaded all of the information from the device- probably for Erwin, Levi has no doubt.
But Levi doesn't care. Not even for a second.
All he cares about is you.
He follows Mike out of the room. As you stir slightly in his arms, Levi prays that you'll wake up soon.
.
Erwin can finally breathe.
The mission's done. Everyone's back at base- including you, and you look physically unharmed. Levi finally looks approachable, not like before, when he'd been prepared to snap the neck of whoever said something wrong in his presence. He's with you now, waiting patiently for you to wake up. Erwin wonders how long his patience will last.
And, most importantly, Mike got the data. The logs and information about what they've been doing to you. Because while Levi may be relieved, Erwin isn't. The lack of physical damage on you means there was a mental battle he needs to be aware of.
Brainwashing. Like he and Hange had been discussing.
Speaking of the stylist, Hange has been standing behind him in his office, pacing rapidly across the space as Erwin loads up the thumb drive. "Shortly, Hange," he says. "Shortly."
"Hurry up," Hange urges, seizing the ends of their hair to tug. "Erwin, come on."
"Would you rather me share this with the other generals?" Erwin asks as a loading bar appears on his screen.
"You haven't shared your brainwashing theory with them, I doubt you would," Hange shoots back. They hover over his shoulder as the bar climbs to the end. "How many logs?"
Erwin scans the folder. "Several. This one's flagged."
He clicks on it. A document pops up, filled with timestamps, notes, and 'results'.
Erwin reads.
"How bad is it?" the stylist asks, voice wavering. They've backed away. "I can't read it."
His lips twitch without meaning to.
Hange realizes that he's not replying. "Erwin," they insist quietly. "What? How bad is it?"
"They..." Erwin trails off, eyes jumping to the top of the log entry again, just to make sure he's reading it right. He moves backward a few more entries, feeling a weird sort of triumph bloom in his chest. "It didn't work."
"It didn't work?" Hange questions, straightening up.
He shakes his head, eyes still glued to the words in front of him. "They were trying to turn her against the rebellion," he says slowly, digesting everything in front of him as fast as he can. "Scrambled her memories of the arena and tried to tell her that the Capitol saved her. That the rebels burnt down District 12. But her..." Erwin can't help it; he laughs. "Her hatred ran too deep. They couldn't do it."
Hange laughs. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," Erwin says, turning back to one of the first logs. "Every time they tried, and then they woke her up, there was absolutely no progress. She was still violent towards them- especially the president, apparently, when he came in."
"Amazing," the stylist murmurs, almost in awe. There's a definite tone of relief in their voice.
"Her need for vengeance and anger has been with her for so long that it's practically a part of her life," he hypothesizes, looking at Hange. "Erasing what has been such an essential part of her personality proved nearly impossible."
Hange laughs again, then presses their hands against their cheeks. "So she's okay? She'll be fine when she wakes up?"
"I'm not sure," Erwin muses, flipping to another more recent entry. "Look. They changed gears. They figured out that trying to change her motivation was going to be so difficult, so they instead decided to..." he trails off.
"What?" Hange asks. When Erwin doesn't answer, they scoot closer to the screen so that they can take over reading. "What did they do?"
Erwin finishes reading faster than Hange does, and he flips to the next entry. Hange doesn't complain; they read along. Eventually, Erwin can't stand not knowing, and he flips to the most recent log, with Hange reading silently beside him. He reads.
His blood runs cold.
"They couldn't go after her motivation," he says, and with the way Hange is leaning forward in their chair, he's betting that they're almost where he is. "So they went after something easier to change. Information in the brain that was more recent and therefore more flexible."
Hange inhales sharply as they come to the same part in the log that Erwin's at. "Levi."
Erwin's eyes narrow at the screen. He goes through one of the results sections. "It got to a point where... where she saw an image of him and was nearly violent," he says, partly in disbelief. "How did they accomplish this?"
"Where is he?" Hange asks, voice frantic. "Where's Levi?"
"They couldn't get her to hate us, so they got her to hate him," Erwin murmurs incredulously. "Hange, they've tweaked all her memories of him."
"Where is he?"
"They got her to hate him," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, Levi. Oh no."
"Erwin!" Hange shouts, voice loud and right next to his ear, and Erwin looks over to them. "Where," they demand, voice nearly cracking, "is Levi?"
Realization settles in on him. "In one of the hospital wings with her. Waiting for her to wake up."
There's no pause. Hange jumps up out of their chair and takes off for the door, and Erwin doesn't even need to shout after them to get Levi out of that room- Hange already knows. In the scheme of things, this isn't the worst case scenario- having you as their figurehead would've been infinitely worse. You're vital to the success of this operation.
He should be relieved. He should. He should be thanking whatever heavenly figures that are out there for how driven you are- how much your hatred has consumed you. It has kept the rebellion alive.
But he can't be relieved. Not when he knows Levi is in for the worst surprise of his life.
They've saved the rebellion. But they haven't saved you.
.
Everything is... fuzzy.
There's voices around you, quiet murmurs. Beeping of a machine. Footsteps against... tile, you think. But there's a spot where the footsteps soften- a carpet, maybe.
What's the last thing you remember? Being in that... in that chair. Needles. But no, no, you'd... you'd finally gotten the upper hand. You'd tricked that stupid scientist into letting you get your hands free, and you'd hit him- yes, you'd knocked him out, taken him down.
You want to laugh. Oh, they failed. You still hate them all and their pathetic attempt at brainwashing. You never want to have to go through that again.
You're not where you were before. Did they move you? Where to?
Slowly, you crack open your eyes. The lighting is dim, which puts you on edge immediately- this isn't the Capitol, with all of its stupidly blinding overhead lights. These walls are grey, not white. And you aren't the only one in the room either- there's maybe a dozen beds, all lined up in a row, from what you can see in your peripheral.
You're not in the Capitol. What happened? Where are you? Did someone get you out?
There's a sharp inhale. "Thank fuck."
You tip your head towards the voice. Immediately, your blood goes cold.
It's him. It's the man from your dreams. The man that you watched over and over again shove you off a mountain side, bring a sword down on your neck- the same man that destroyed your district. Levi, a face that's plagued your dreams- no, your nightmares- constantly for what feels like much too long, and it fills you with rage, unadulterated rage-
With a yell, you shove yourself up from the hospital bed, lunging at him. You can't even see properly: it's all red, red, red as you throw yourself at him, hand balled into a fist.
He catches your hand, eyes wide, but he doesn't hit you back. Why not? He's responsible for it all, for everything- all the misery he's caused you. What, he doesn't want to go for more? "Em?" he says. "What the hell-"
Through your hazy vision, you find a nearby cart with some medical tools on it, and you snatch at one. Screaming in defiance, you lunge at him, and Levi steps backwards, narrowly avoiding your swing. He's still not attacking you, focused entirely on avoiding your strike. Why won't he counter? Why-
Hands grab your shoulders and you swing blindly. The tool in your hands sinks into the skin of a girl with... reddish hair? Or is that just the red clouding your vision? She goes down, gasping and clutching at her neck. You go back for Levi, hand raised high, but he catches your arm and pushes against you.
You grit your teeth, struggling to push down. God, you want to kill him. He's staring at you with an expression you don't recognize, which just pisses you off anymore. Why won't he fight you? Why won't he say anything?
You hate him, you hate this, and your head hurts and you really just want to scream-
Something pinches the side of your neck. You spin, ready to fight off someone else, but it's a man with light brown hair that's backing away from you, a syringe in his hand. A needle? It reminds you too much of the Capitol and what they did to you, kept drugging you and fucking with your head and...
"Fuck you," you snarl, but there's no venom behind it. You're swaying; spots are clouding your vision. "I hate you. I..."
You're woozy, and you're not going to stay standing for much longer. Right before your eyes roll into the back of your head and you're whisked away into nothingness, you think of Levi again, and you think you can pinpoint exactly what his expression was.
Devastation.
.
This chapter hurt but upon further reflection I think next chapter is worse LOL. See you next week xxx