A/N: I'm so, so sorry. I have no idea what drove me to write this. I apologise. Sincerely.

Levi Rivaille was not a bad doctor. In fact, he was a very good doctor. He did, however, work in the terminal ward of a children's hospital, so more often than not his patients didn't survive.

At first he held his composure at the deaths of the young around him, keeping his cool, calm façade up constantly.

After a while, however, he began to break – not a quick, easy break, but a slow tear, right from the seams.

The small, fragile smiling faces around him hollowed away into nothingness. Their bright, cheery laughs were often followed by rasping coughs.

He couldn't deal with watching them fade into oblivion, forgotten and broken and so, so young.

And so he invented stories.

Stories of evil titans and gigantic walls and the struggle of humanity. He used the children themselves as characters, used their traits, used even himself. He told of their strength, their importance, their struggle.

He told them about their legacy, about their sacrifice.

Eren Jeager's death hit the ward hard.

The boy had always been so passionate about reclaiming the use of his legs and willing himself to walk outside again, to play soccer and have fun with his friends like he once used to.

Doctor Rivaille used Eren as the vessel of hope in his story, explaining how the young boy grew to join the army and fight for the good of humanity as an eventual titan shifter.

It kept Levi sane.

Mikasa and Armin, the two children who shared Eren's room, would cling to his arm and look up at him with big, glossy eyes.

"Eren's a hero," he would murmur to them, watching their faces contort in pain and hope all at once.

When Mina, Thomas, Nic and Mylius passed within the same week, Levi explained the great battle of Trost, telling of the many lives lost to contribute to humanity's victory.

When Marco passed away with terminal cancer, the only way to console his bedside buddy Jean was to tell of Marco's plight with his 3DMG, to tell how the boy fought bravely until his last moments.

He had a ward of favourites, he had to admit.

Auruo Bossard, Petra Ral, Gunther Shultz, Mike Zacharius, Hanji Zoe and Erd Gin.

The children were exceptionally strange.

Auruo, he noticed, tried hard to act like him, and often bit his tongue in the process.

Gunther was determined to frown it out and get better.

Mike had a strange tendency to sniff people.

Petra was always smiling, looking out for the other children.

Erd was never found without a handy origami present.

Hanji Zoe's eccentricity was both outrageous and contagious.

When one fell, the others began to topple like dominos.

The Female Titan was what he called their leukaemia.

Gunther was the first to go.

Levi told of how he bravely approached the stranger in the uniform, and was cut down. The other children saluted for him, their right hands curled into little fists over their hearts as they sat in remembrance of him, sniffling as they attempted to contain their tears.

Erd was next. Levi walked in one morning to the boy staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, the other children crowded around him, shouting, "The Female Titan! It's her again! She's taken Erd away!"

And indeed she had.

Levi would nod and tell them of Erd's courageous fight, his smart plan to kill the intelligent titan. He lost to save Eren.

Petra was the next to fade, coughing and wheezing. She looked up at him with big, frightened eyes as he sat beside her, checking her vitals.

"Wh-What happened t-to Petra?" she rasped, heart rate dropping dramatically.

"Petra," Levi murmured, "she was brave. Remember when Corporal Levi asked her to be in his special squad?"

The little amber haired girl nodded weakly, eyes drooping.

"That's because she was very special. She fought the Female Titan to save Eren," he whispered, reaching out a hand to hold her little one.

"And… did Petra help?" she breathed, eyes fluttering shut, "Did… she h-help humanity…"

"Yes," he said without a beat, "Petra was important. Petra was brave, and strong, and she went down fighting."

"I-I want to fight t-too."

"Ah, but you have fought," Levi smiled at her, one of his rare genuine ones, "and now it's time to take a rest."

She died that night, and Petra finally got the rest she deserved.

Auruo was last. He was angry at the Female Titan, so, so angry, and so he fought. He fought and fought until his last breath, he fought in honour of Erd and Gunther and Petra.

But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he fought, there was no way to win.

Levi was tired after the loss of those four. Hanji and Mike tried to cheer him with smiles and laughs, but his smiles in return were shallow, brief.

"Levi," spoke a tall man with blonde hair as he walked alongside his co-worker in the hallway, "You can't keep doing this to yourself. Making attachments to those kids isn't healthy."

"Well, what do you expect me to do, Erwin?" the shorter man snapped back, a frown marring his tired face, "They need it. They need to know that they're important, that they're loved and needed and so, so brave. They need to know that losing the battle doesn't mean losing the war. They need to know they are the best of the best, and that's why they are taken so young."

Erwin shook his head and looked away, "You're a good man, Levi."

The doctor only shrugged, "Humanity's Strongest has to be."

"Ah," Erwin chuckled, "You cocky bastard."

Mike passed away not long after that.

Levi told of the mysterious Ape Titan, and of Mike's heroic attempt to warn the Survey Corps.

It was sad, the way in which the ward filled right up again after a few deaths, bringing more and more children to linger.

The legend of the war against the titans was something the children all clung to, listening to Levi's every word, holding on to every dramatic pause, saluting for every lost soldier – even the ones who'd passed away long ago, forgotten by most and remembered only as part of the story.

Every year, Levi would talk about Eren and Mikasa and Armin. He'd tell of the Scouting Legion, of the brave Commander, of the Special Squad and even the ordinary soldiers.

Every year the story grew as more and more children added to the characters, added to the death toll.

Every year the titans were blamed, the walls were shaken, the ward grew sadder.

Levi kept working there, however. He kept working even after he retired, even after it was his turn to rest.

He continued to tell of the Walls, of the brave soldiers, of the Wings of Freedom.

Because with the Wings of Freedom, the children were flying, soaring as wondrously as the birds above the hospital roof, above the wall, above the world.