The World I Know
Chapter 1

Pilot

The first time Levi met Sawyer was on a Friday.

Neither of them liked to concede defeat so they had a natural tendency to butt heads on everything. She could've become another face in the sea of people who didn't really matter to Levi, but nothing was ever that simple.

"I bet you someday," she'd said, "you're going to wake up and want to marry me."

"When that day comes, I hope I never wake up," was his impassive reply.

The redhead sitting by Levi's bedside wrapped the bandage carefully around his foot.

It took only a moment before she let out a soft little hn of disapproval, unraveling the bandage almost too quickly and rewrapping it around his foot again. She crinkled her nose in irritation, a bead of sweat forming over her brow. She let out a small sigh that Levi would've missed missed had it not been for her hot breath pressed against his pinky toe. He twitched.

She'd been at this for the past ten minutes.

Levi narrowed his gaze, completely dispassionate, "Don't you know what you're doing?"

"Of course I know!" She snapped, "Your foot is just bigger than I expected, and we're low on resources. I'm trying to be precise so I don't have to waste bandages."

"This is a waste of time," Levi replied, "it'd heal faster on its own."

"Then don't come to the hospital the next time you break your ankle," was her snappy reply as she finished tying the bandage completely, "just some food for thought."

Despite the fact that Levi had actually made an effort to avoid any personal injuries that could get him killed in battle, he somehow still managed to find himself stranded in the hospital with a shattered ankle.

He reflected on his painfully stupid thought only momentarily, knowing that the status of his bum limb would be nothing compared to the loss of his entire squad. The female titan outside the walls had been a bigger nuisance than he prepared for and he was naïve to believe she didn't have some more tricks hidden up her proverbial sleeve. That lack of preparation left most of his squadron dead.

Being a leader was his forte but the perks weren't what they were cut out to be and no one ever told him the kind of bullshit façade of knowledge he'd be putting on half the time. Somewhere deep inside, he knew if he didn't do it, then nobody else would take the mantel of leadership.

He leaned the back of his head back into the headboard of the hospital bed.

A single nurse stood by his bedside, making her routine checkup on his body: a little jab here, a little push there. Another person to waste his time. If Levi had a problem anywhere besides his ankle, then he surely would've mentioned it earlier. Instead, he was sitting here getting prodded. But before he could snap or say anything, the nurse departed his room in a dash, probably off to see another wound far more prioritized than his.

"Good morning! I'm Doctor Havoc, but you can call me Sawyer. We met yesterday, but I was in a bit of a rush because we were really, really understaffed. How're you feeling today Mister—"

In paraded a girl who couldn't have been too far past her twenties. She was young, had auburn red hair, fair-skin and a pair of dark ash-gray eyes that looked like they'd seen their far share of wounds and casualties. From what she was wearing (the white coat with a fairly corporate dress underneath), Levi could surmise she was a doctor. The same doctor who'd attempted to wrap his ankle yesterday.

Attempted, being the utilized word.

"Levi?" She asked, looking at him with an eyebrow arched in mild confusion, flipping the page of his chart back and forth like she might've missed something important, "Why wouldn't you list your last name? Like, who actually does that on a form that says your first and last name is mandatory?"

"Is my last name a necessary piece of information you actually need to do your job?" He deadpanned dispassionately, sarcasm seeping through every syllable, "Or are you going to continue wasting my time."

"What if we needed a medical history," replied Sawyer.

"I have a broken ankle," Levi stated calmly, "not a genetic disease."

"Why don't you leave it to the doctors to decide whether or not a medical history is necessary," she stated with a strained smile.

"Not when a doctor can barely wrap a bandage correctly," was his final reply.

Sawyer's strained smile disappeared from her face completely and she shot him a glare while lifting a page of his chart up, "Levi, huh. Your reputation precedes you."

"It has a tendency of doing that," he didn't even miss a beat.

"But from what I can see, you just look like a midget punk with a big mouth and a bum ankle," she told him.

"Says the doctor who doesn't know how to perform an simple medical practice," he stated, "pretty ironic for someone who chose a career in medicine."

"So tell me what it's like leading a regiment without physically being able to do anything?" She shot back.

"What's it like working in a hospital watching people die without being able to do anything?" He threw the question right back at her.

Sawyer faltered.

Levi knew he hit a thin nerve. But strangely enough, she didn't look even a little angry. Probably because he wasn't saying anything that was wrong. People died in the hospital all the time. More often than not, they couldn't be saved. There just weren't enough resources available at this point in time; and with the influx of trauma patients, there seemed to be less and less attention placed on secondary patients.

Patients like Levi.

"Are you always such an asshole?" She asked him, "Or am I just lucky today?"

"Hn," Levi could only take her insult with a grain of salt. He wasn't good at processing his own anger, not that he was even angry at her to begin with. Too much time out on the field taught him better than that.

Sawyer was really quite young, which he half-expected already. Since the reappearance of titans, there had been little time to train new doctors. There were already so few to begin with, and since medicine was such a specialized practice, they didn't have the time or means to put so much effort into each person's training.

What once began as a ten-year prerequisite in education and training slowly turned into a three or four year crash course in treating the wounded.

"Your ankle will be fine," she said, after a quick examination, prodding it only quickly with her clicky pen, "guess you lucked out."

Levi glanced out the window next to his bed with half-lidded eyes. There was a short pause before he continued, "I don't believe in luck."

"Oh? I guess I expected someone like you to say something like that," said Sawyer, removing her rubber gloves from her hands.

This hardly piqued his interest and he didn't even bother shifting his gaze from outside the window, "And why would you say that," his question coming off as more of a statement.

"You're from the Survey Corps, right?" Sawyer said, scribbling down a few notes in his chart, "I'm guessing you probably watch your friends die on the frontlines all the time. I guess it just wouldn't be fitting if you depended on luck to get you through the day."

Another pause while Sawyer continued scribbling in the chart. Levi shifted his gaze to her and he decided to wait a moment before finally asking, "Are you always this forward with all your patients?"

She smiled halfheartedly and brushed a lock of hair behind her hair, "We live in a world where we can't afford to beat around the bush," and she looked at him, pen pausing in place on the page, "seems like if you do, even for a second, someone dies."

Sawyer wasn't saying anything that was blatantly untrue. This world they lived in was a ticking bomb.

She'd probably seen more people die than he would see in his lifetime. If she managed to get this far in life without dying, then she'd probably seen more suffering than he'd seen too.

Levi's job kept him in a constant whirlwind of death and destruction, but at least the deaths he saw became a blur in the storm on his 3D maneuvering device. Sawyer probably never had that kind of luxury working in a hospital.

"Try to take care of yourself when you can," she continued, giving his big toe a light tap in good faith with his medical chart while Levi winced from the sudden jolt of pain that shot through his ankle, "I know it's not common in your line of work, but do me a favor and try not to die any time soon."

"Feeling compassionate all of a sudden?" He asked, recalling her earlier insults: midget punk, asshole.

"You might be a jerk, but you're a jerk that dedicated your life to saving people," she shrugged halfheartedly, "I just can't spend too much time being irritated by you."

Without missing another beat, Levi threw his legs over the edge of the bed, "That's reassuring. You should spend more time worrying about yourself. Maybe it'd make you a better doctor."

"You really need to mind your manners. Also, spare me the lecture," Sawyer snapped back with a small smile, "learn to let things go. It'll make life easier. And for the record, I'm a good doctor."

"You seem kind of young to be a doctor," he told her.

"And you seem kind of young to be a captain," she replied without hesitation, "guess that means we're in the same boat."

"Different jobs," Levi stated, "different boats."

"Um, saving lives. Same goal," Sawyer replied, "same boat."

"Outside the wall. Inside the wall," he gestured to himself before gesturing to her, "different boats."

"Research on titans. Survey corps," she mimicked him by pointing at him with her index finger before pointing at herself, "research on titans. Gross anatomy. Same boat."

He narrowed his gaze. So she'd done her fair share of research.

Sawyer just smiled sheepishly while he made his way towards the door, "If it truly means that much to you, then it's different boats. Grouch."

"Don't screw with me," Levi glanced at Sawyer over his shoulder with half-lidded eyes.

"I'm not, I'm not," she grinned, "don't worry your little heart over it. There are some battles I know aren't worth pursuing."

He was mulling.

Levi couldn't help it.

He'd lost his entire squad in the span of a day.

He always considered himself mentally capable of taking such a loss and taking responsibility of these situations, and he would never condone this sulking from his own men. But there was only so much he could take before it became too much. He hadn't felt like this since he lost Isabel and Farlan. Even though he was naïve and far too prideful for his own good back then, their deaths were something that changed him forever.

The bustle of the city became far too busy for his liking so he found himself finding a ledge on the wall, a small distance away from the Garrison unit. They wouldn't know he'd be there at all but he was still close enough to remain within close quarters in case there happened to be any titan attack.

Heichou, you look so grim today, Petra would probably tell him, Try to smile. You're alive today, aren't you? Isn't that reason enough to smile?

But she wasn't alive. Not anymore, anyway.

Levi kicked back and leaned the back of his head into the board of his bed.

There was too much bustling throughout the barracks of the hallway, but he managed to get a room of his own tonight. He spent the whole day tending to it, making sure it was squeaky clean.

"Hi, there!"

He glanced at his open doorway to see a very familiar looking redhead holding the frame of the doorway with a half smile on her face. This time, she wasn't wearing the white coat. Just a black tank top and a pair of shorts. Had he not met her earlier before, he would've taken her for some average civilian.

"You again?" Levi managed to utter, unable to hide the hint of irritation in his tone.

"Um, yeah. Me again. You're living in the barracks?" Sawyer asked, "I thought you'd have a nice house furnished by taxpayer money by now. I mean—what're you? 24? 25? Don't you have a bachelor pad or something?"

Levi decided to glaze over the quip about his age (and his hypothetical bachelor pad). Those were things he didn't really talk about, mostly because they didn't exist. But she was hitting pretty close to target. It'd been a while since he had a place to truly call his home.

"Why are you here," he stated.

"I live in the barracks too," she said, as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Pointing out the obvious," Levi stared at her with half-lidded eyes, "please tell me you're not this counterproductive at the hospital."

"Broken ankle," Sawyer replied, motioning to his foot, "please tell me you're not this counterproductive on the battlefield."

Levi wasn't able to contain his sigh, "Don't you have somewhere more important to be—like tending to the wounded?"

The last part came off more like a direct statement as opposed to a flat out question, but he didn't have time for rhetorical questions.

In general, he didn't have much time for bullshit and he wasn't the kind of person who thrived when it came to petty small talk. Just wasn't his style.

"I just got back from being on-call for 28 hours, so you can spare me the lecture. Even doctors need rest," Sawyer explained, leaning against the frame of his doorway, "how's your ankle feeling, by the way?"

"It's fine," Levi managed to say without sounding too agitated.

"Anyway, my house is far away in the north," she said, "in this pretty isolated little village surrounded by trees. I don't have time to go back and forth so when I work here in the city, I usually stay in the barracks. But you know," and the look of a perpetual dreamer formed on her face, "what I wouldn't give to go back home."

It was only here that Levi finally noticed the two distinguished bands grooved into the wedge of her bony shoulder. Those were the kinds of bands he recognized, the kinds of bands he knew because he had the same ones.

They were the bands that soldiers got from wearing their 3D maneuvering devices all day. He would know. He had the same bands on his own shoulder blades.

"Garrison or Military Police?" Levi asked.

Sawyer blinked rapidly in succession, perplexed by the sudden question. But it didn't take more than a moment for her to gather herself, he shoulders relaxing slightly as a small smile formed on her face, "How could you tell?"

"Your shoulders," he said, motioning towards her shoulder blade that jutted out, "anyone who wears a maneuvering device long enough has the same physical bands you have."

"Take a guess," Sawyer offered.

"With that little quip earlier about living in the north, and in incapacity to hide your disdain for the city, you don't really strike me as a king and country kind of girl, so I'm going to have to assume you were a part of the Garrison regiment," replied Levi indifferently.

Sawyer swept a lock of hair behind her ear, "Hm. Well. I graduated from training three years after you did. Feels like it's been a while, but I guess some things just don't fade completely," and with that, she glanced at the bands on her shoulders that he'd pointed out, "but you're pretty observant, I'll give you that."

"How many people did you see die out there?" He asked.

It was an odd question, but since their lines of expertise had such similar facets, he didn't think it was too out of left field. Besides, it was a good way to gauge her sense of understanding. She might've seemed like an idiot; but even Levi knew he couldn't take people at face value. There were deaths in the hospital, and there were deaths on the battlefield.

"Too many," she finally replied with a sad smile.

Silence filled the air. Levi was tempted to ask her more, but she looked like she was mulling something over inside her head.

Sawyer looked up, "Do me a favor."

"No," no hesitation on Levi's part.

She frowned, "Please? I promise won't take more than a second."

It took him a moment for him to process this. If he conceded, then maybe she'd leave his room and stop bothering him. So with a suppressed sigh, Levi asked, "What?"

"Ask me why I believe in luck," Sawyer repeated, "seriously. Just ask."

He was tempted to ignore her completely, but she seemed so adamant, and he was only mildly curious. So he deadpanned, question more of a statement than anything, "Why do you believe in luck."

"That's a great question! A question I'd be happy to answer," she quipped with a big smile, "Well."

Here, her eyes softened and she crossed her arms over her chest, "Luck is the line in the sand between the things we have control over, and the things we don't have control over. And from my experience, more often than not, there will be things you have no control over. At all."

"That was more than a second," Levi stated.

"Are you really going to focus on that," Sawyer replied, "don't you think it's something worth thinking about?"

"I'm not a fatalist," Levi replied; he couldn't afford that kind of thinking, "that way of thinking is probably also the reason why you couldn't stay a soldier."

She frowned.

"Am I right?" Levi asked.

There was probably some symbolic metaphor hidden away in what she was saying but Levi was far too jaded and removed to actually bother digging deep to decipher it properly. At this point, he just wanted to sleep. This conversation wasn't piquing his interest the way he thought it would. She might've been a soldier on the front lines once upon a time, but people underestimated that kind of life everyday.

Levi couldn't blame her.

And she looked naïve, even though she wasn't saying anything blatantly wrong or particularly stupid. There were a lot of things she was right about. Levi didn't know. She reminded him of himself a long time ago.

"They used to train doctors to fight on the frontlines," she said, shifting the subject matter away, seeing that she wasn't making grounds the way she wanted, "I was part of one of the first four-year trainee programs that taught doctors how to multitask on the field—killing titans and saving soldiers at the same time, with priority put on our soldiers. At some point, the program was disposed."

Sawyer took a deep breath before continuing, "Too many people were wounded within the walls when the titans started invading. So they thought our roles were more crucial remaining in the city and taking care of the citizens."

Levi paused, "I've never heard of such a program."

"Probably not," she laughed gently, "the recruiters came to small, poor villages to take us while we were young. You understand, right? Children are impressionable. Stupid. A lot of us didn't have a choice. It was the program, or…well. Starving to death during a famine."

"Were you one of the ones who didn't have a choice?" He asked.

"Yeah," she shrugged halfheartedly, "I was extra stupid back then. Really, really stupid."

A pause.

She looked at him with an arched brow, "You never had a doctor on your squad before?"

He thought about this for a moment. Petra. She knew very basic healing techniques. They were mostly from common sense—bandaging, tourniquets, and disinfecting. She never quite demonstrated an intensive knowledge of medicine and Levi had personally seen her graduate from her general trainee program.

So all he could do was shrug and reply with a terse: "We've had medics. No doctors."

"Ah. Well, few of us made it to the front lines before we were called back. I don't think we were out there for more than six months in total," she explained. She checked her watch and wrinkled her brows when she saw the time, "anyway, I've got to get going."

"And did you make it?" Levi asked with half-lidded eyes, "To the front lines?"

Sawyer looked up at him and smiled, "It's funny you ask that because, well, you were wrong. I was a part of the Survery Corps. So yes," and a pause, "for those six months, I saw everything."

note—soo, yeah. This is a thing. I guess. Hate to be that writer but reviews = love = fast updates. Not reviewing = no love = no updates.