Chapter Text
Hospitals always seemed to be detested by the general public. There was something about a building of sick people who were either on their way to recovery or death that made people uneasy when entering through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room. Of course you thought otherwise. Hospitals were not scary or unsettling, they were full of hope and promise. The mere thought that a regular human such as yourself could seemingly ‘fix’ another person was enticing. But not everybody thinks the same way you do.
“Will he be okay Dr. Kirstein?” A young boy wearily asked you from the bedside. “He’s only six years old, he has to be okay.” He was persistent with his words. “I-I just need to know if he’ll be alright.”
The boy, who looked as if he were barely twelve, was glued to his younger brother's bedside. From the moment they arrived at the hospital room with blank walls and a reeking stench of bleach, he had been watching his brother like a hawk. It was impossible to even think about how this little kid brought his even younger—and sick—brother to the hospital on his own.
You weaved through the group of nurses and doctors, peeling off the pair of latex gloves around your hands. “He’ll be fine, Colt.” You reassured the boy. “We’ll do our best to help your brother, but first we have to admit him into the system.” You held a clipboard tightly between your hands, fidgeting with the blue-ink pen. “Why don't you go into the hallway with the nurse? they’ll help you fill out the admission forms without all of this chaos.” You made sure to keep your voice soft.
After all, this was a frightened boy who had just watched his younger brother have a seizure right before his eyes. Colt simply nodded his head, following the nurse out into the hallway.
The second Colt left the room, you got to work. “Let's prepare him to do some tests,” you called out, grabbing a brand new pair of latex gloves before analyzing Falco Grice, who laid unconscious on the hospital bed for the fourth time in a year. “If this tumor is back…” you mumbled to yourself, not wanting to finish that sentence in hopes that it wouldn’t be true.
You were almost blindsided by trying to organize the current situation, almost completely ignoring the fact that Levi Ackerman had practically snuck into the room.
“Kirstein,” Levi called out, almost startling you. “Are you busy?” He asked, arms crossed as he peered over the unconscious Falco, being hooked up to an IV. “We need to talk.” He continued, not caring whether you were truly busy or not.
“Can it wait?” You glanced at him for a moment. “I’ve got to check on my other patients.” It was a passive interaction. You were trying to get through things as quickly as possible without any interruptions.
It was a busy day, and you were a busy person. Being a surgeon wasn't an easy job, especially a neurosurgeon. At least things were easier with an eidetic memory. Going from a kid with a terrifyingly good memory to a successful neurosurgeon was something that not everybody could do flawlessly. It required careful planning and motivation. When you didn't have either of those things, it was sort of a miracle that you got to where you are today.
Levi looked around the room for a moment, unsure of how he should continue. “Erwin wanted to speak with you,” he vaguely said. “He’s waiting in his office. Whenever you have time.”
You finally looked up for longer than a second. “What is it about?” You finally pulled away from Falco, stripping off the second pair of gloves you wore within the span of thirty minutes.
“I'm sure Erwin would prefer to talk about it.” he concluded, crossing his arms once more as he began backing out of the room.
“Why are you being so cryptic, Levi?” you laughed a bit. “Why can't you just tell me right now?” you asked, hoping it would spare you a trip to Erwin’s office.
Being called up to the Chief of Surgery’s office wasn't the most ideal situation. It always cost you a good hour or two that you could have spent with your patients, or even in the operating room.
“It…” he paused, standing beneath the doorway. “It’s sort of confidential.” he shrugged, noticing the glances from overly curious nurses and other young doctors. “Just go to Erwin’s office once you're done, alright?”
And without another word, Levi left the room. He wasn't going to let you come up with some maimed excuse as to why you couldn't attend the meeting in Erwin’s office.
“Emergency surgery on one of my patients! Catch me up on what Erwin said later.”
“Got caught up with a patient!”
“I was asleep in the on-call room. Just finished a brutal surgery, needed to nap.”
“Jean and I were arguing about something. I got caught up and missed the meeting. Sorry!”
There was always some reason. Levi knew better than to let you get away with it this time. Because this was important, and he knew you’d care more than anything after hearing what Erwin has to say. It was more than lecturing you on new codes and regulations, or making sure you didn't stay in the hospital for more than sixty hours a week. It was also more than getting in trouble for simply not listening to the Chief, and doing a pro-bono surgery that the hospital may or may not be able to afford.
Erwin Smith never truly saw eye-to-eye with you. He liked to plan things out, keeping the hospital in order and acting on impulsivity when it was needed. Even when he was a secretive person, he always made sure that his ideas and plans went out accordingly. You, on the other hand, were impulsive whenever you felt like it.
It was that difference that had separated the two of you on a mutual basis. He believed you were unfit to run the Neurosurgery department, and you believed he was a hardass.
As mentioned, the hostility was mutual.
You wandered through the hallways of the large hospital, dreading the soon-to-come meeting. The hospital was more or less your home at this point. Not caring about the sixty hour week limit, you’d managed to scramble up a good eighty hours per week. Levi was always livid when he’d find you asleep on the terrible back-aching mattress that was considered a bed in the on-call room.
But this was how you were. From the moment you’d graduated from medical school, being in this hospital was all you knew. The South Maria Memorial Hospital was your habitat. A playground was what you liked to call it. For the past nine years, the walls and signs of the hospital were engraved in your already-permanent brain.
“Kirstein!” a loud voice shouted from the opposite end of the hall.
Just the person you were absolutely dreading to see. “What’s up, Chief?” You nonchalantly said with an awkward smile, hoping he’d let you off easy for not heading to his office after you finished up with Falco’s exam—which was an hour ago.
“Didn't Levi tell you to meet me in my office?” He looked frustrated. If he wasn’t already angry, then frustrated was the next best word to use to describe how Erwin Smith seemed at the moment.
You nodded your head, pretending to gasp a little bit. “Right,” you sighed, dragging the ‘t’ out in your words. “I got caught up with a patient, I guess I forgot.” you shrugged, keeping the smile plastered on your face. “What’d you wanna talk about, Chief?” you clasped your hands together behind your back, hoping Erwin would let your ‘forgetful damsel’ act slide for the thousandth time.
The only reason you've gotten this far in the medical industry was likely because of your tight connection with Levi ackerman. Without him, Erwin would have kicked your ass out of the hospital long ago. Levi saw potential in you from a young age, even with the broken hand you had during your intern year. He knew what influence an eidetic memory could have on the medical community, and he was completely right. Erwin, on the other hand, was less optimistic over this fact. Reasonably, he was often annoyed by how cocky you acted. As if having your superpower of a memory was constantly saving you from working a nine to five office job. But Erwin knew better than to go against his husband’s ‘plans.’
“Let’s talk about it in my office. I'm sure you’re going to be interested in what we have to say.” He was vague, but he continued walking down the hall and to his office, occasionally glancing back to make sure you were following him.
“Sorry, ‘we’?” you questioned, closely following him after hearing his last sentence. “Is Levi joining the meeting too?” Levi rarely wanted to be part of the lovely meetings you had with Erwin. Those meetings tended to end in the two of you arguing, typically because you’d go against Erwin’s wishes. It was a repetitive experience, and after the fifth time it happened, Levi swore to always sit out of your meetings.
Erwin paused for a moment, staring at you as his grip tightened around the doorknob. “Not just Levi.” He sighed a bit, opening the door.
The second he stepped inside his office, you both heard the greetings that belonged to none other than Hange Zoe; a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon and an occasional teacher at the hospital. Visiting South Maria was always a surprise, and Hange enjoyed dropping by whenever she felt like it. This always led to impromptu classes for the younger, newer doctors.
You could always remember how excited you were whenever you saw Hange’s car parked in the hospital's staff parking lot, racing inside to tell everyone the great news. Hange’s visits almost always led to a full house during surgeries, wanting as many people to witness her great work as she stuck her greedy hands inside a human body. Luckily for everyone else, Hange was an amazing teacher. She made the surgeries interactive, always asking the interns and residents trick questions to keep them on their toes. It was what made her so likeable as a surgeon.
Hange Zoe wasn't a hard ass, much like Erwin Smith was.
During your residency at the hospital, you’d managed to achieve the liking of Hange Zoe. It was properly mind-blowing, and nobody could believe it when Hange picked you out of everybody to scrub in on their surgeries.
You, out of everybody in the hospital. Everybody—especially Levi and Erwin—tried weaning Hange out of the idea to let you stand alongside her, and help her work. All because of your hands. Because Levi and Erwin were the two people who knew about The Accident. The Accident that left your right hand immobile for your entire intern year. The one that put you behind on a skillset which was required in order to be a surgeon, one that eidetic memory would never give you. The Accident that gave you a reminder of a lifetime, right on your palm.
The accident was caused in medical school, by a person who you’d declare as someone who was always less than a friend, but sometimes more than a friend. A broken hand—of course, this was by accident.
Yet losing those nerves in your hand during your internship caused you to fall behind immensely. You were dropping things, and you couldn't practice surgery. It was painful to experience. It was what caused every attending surgeon in the hospital to fear you, and always tell you ‘maybe next time,’ whenever you wanted in on a surgery. So it would be an understatement to say that nobody wanted you to work with Hange Zoe.
“I haven't seen you in ages!” Hange exclaimed the moment she saw you. “How’ve you been? Have you had any cool surgeries lately?” It was impossible to be in a room with Hange Zoe and not talk about surgery.
Surgery was her life, and she only made you more interested in it.
You smiled, nodding your head. “A guy came in with eight hardware nails jammed straight inside his skull! It was amazing-” you began rambling on and on about the man who had hardware nails puncturing the cranium, but Levi immediately interrupted you before you could get too deep.
“Maybe we should talk about the main reason as to why we’re all here?” He said with a fake cough, almost nudging Erwin’s shoulder, wanting him to start talking. Levi was impatient. He wanted to get through this meeting and back to work, knowing how this would end; in an argument between you and Erwin. Especially with the several pieces of information that were about to come to light.
Erwin nodded his head, clearing his throat as he pulled out files from inside his desk. “This is a case regarding a…” he paused, glancing over to Hange for a moment. The two exchanged looks, an awkward silence growing in the room. “A high profile patient.” He looked down at the files, pulling out a handful of x-ray, CT, MRI scans, and several tests. There were loads of scans, most of which didn't need to be taken. But with a high profile patient, it made sense that outrageous measures were taken.
You took the scans, analyzing them with a callous smile on your face, almost excited to see something like this. Flipping through the scans, you listened to Erwin as he spoke.
“We believe this patient developed a brain tumor.” He said with his fingers intertwined and laid in front of him on his desk, watching the way you observed the scans and tests, rapidly flipping through the files. “A metastatic brain tumor, to be precise. The cancer originated in the lungs, and travelled to the cerebellum.”
“This is insane,” you wanted to laugh a bit as you tossed the files back on Erwin’s desk. “Is that why Hange’s here? Are we going to be working together on this patient?” a smile had formed on your face as you nudged Hange like a little kid who rejoiced in the fact that their teacher was letting them choose their own partners.
Hange Zoe, a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon and you, a neurosurgeon who was widely known within the districts of Paradis. It seemed like a fool-proof idea to put together two astonishing minds on a case like this.
Yet the moment when the three exchanged yet again another awkward look before Erwin cleared his throat for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Why don’t we talk about the case a bit more before getting to that?” Levi quickly suggested, hoping that he spared everyone from getting to the dreadful main point of the conversation. “What do you think?” He looked over to you. “Can you operate on this?” He picked up the files, holding up the scan of the brain. The brain with a moderately terrifying tumor.
You looked around the room for a moment, trying to figure out what the three doctors were thinking. “Why is everyone being so vague today?” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you took a seat on the black leather sofa that was pushed up against the wall of Erwin’s office. “You’re all acting weird about this. It’s a brain tumor.” You blurted out, stating the obvious even when it seemed like a slap on the face to them. “I see dozens of people with brain tumors, if not worse.”
“We know that.” Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried recollecting his thoughts.
“I truly feel like you guys don't, though.” you laughed out of astonishment for a bit. “It’s a brain tumor. I get that they're not as common as appendicitis, but they're not the hardest thing to deal with.”
Erwin chimed into the conversation. “So what you’re saying is that you can operate?” he assumed, peering over at you through his thick eyebrows and permanent glare.
You shrugged, nodding your head. “Of course I can operate.” you scoffed once more. “But I feel like this is some sort of setup.”
“A setup?” Levi questioned.
It sounded crazy, of course it did. You were a doctor, for god's sake. You were a scientist, you went through your life with logical explanations and the curious truth. And the current truth was that there was a brain tumor in someone's head, and you were one of the very few who were skilled enough to deal with it, which you’ve done before. It didn't take a scientist to know that what they were telling you was the entire truth.
But for some reason, there was a minor lingering feeling that they were hiding something. Something that could affect the entire situation at hand, and change the way you’d answer.
“Yeah, a setup.” you confirmed for Levi. “For some reason it feels like you’re going to tell me that this is your tumor.” It felt insane to even say that. But it was how you felt.
And the moment Levi and Erwin exchanged another suspicious glance, you felt as if your queries were confirmed. Was that really the truth? Was the great and powerful Levi Ackerman going to be taken down by lung cancer and a brain tumor? It made sense as to why Hange was here. Of course Levi would want the best of the best to operate on him. You couldn't believe your own thoughts. So much for being logical.
“No, no,” Hange interrupted. “You've got it wrong.” She sighed, pulling her glasses off. “Those aren't Levi’s scans, they're mine.”
Those two words caused you to rethink almost everything you witnessed today. How could this even happen? Hange Zoe with cancer? It didn't make sense. She was healthy, healthier than most people. She always made sure to eat healthy, exercise, and have a moderately normal sleep schedule. If a person like that could be stricken with such a terrible disease, then what did that mean for everyone else?
You could almost recall events when you drank your own weight in alcohol, but you still never had liver failure. It wasn't fair at all. Why should a person as great as Hange have to face something so horrifying?
“Yours?” you said out of astonishment. “You want me to operate on Hange Zoe? Are you all out of your damn minds?” You could feel the way your voice slowly began to rise at them. Just what Levi wanted to avoid. “I’ve been an attending surgeon for barely a year! I can't operate on Hange!” You told them out of fear.
“Yes, you can.” Hange interrupted. “You’re the only person I trust enough to cut into my brain.” she said with a weary smile. “Plus, you won't be alone. I’ve hand-picked an amazing cardiothoracic surgeon who works at my hospital in the Sina district, he trained directly under me. You two are the only people I trust cutting into my body.”
“I won't do it.” You sternly told them. “What if something happens to you while I'm operating? I can't be the one responsible for your death, I won't do it.” You crossed your arms, shaking your head as if you were trying to get the thoughts out.
“That won't happen,” Erwin reassured you. “We’ll be careful. We’ll take precautions, and you’ll work with the other surgeon on the case to ensure Hange’s safety.”
Despite their planning, you couldn't trust yourself to wield a scalpel on Hange. “Fine, let's say she doesn’t die on the table. Do you know what the cerebellum is responsible for? Basic motor movements. What if I fuck it up and when Hange wakes up, she can’t use her hands? Or she can't walk? Then I've basically ruined her entire career! she’ll never be able to practice surgery again.” You had a convincing argument. “Why don't you get someone else to do it? How about Dr. Pyxis? He’s far more experienced than I am.” you suggested, hoping that you wouldn't have to do this.
“I’d rather succumb to cancer than have Pyxis operate on me.” Hange scoffed, crossing her arms. “Trust me,” she looked over to you, grabbing your hand. “you’re the only one who I'd feel comfortable with operating.”
“Did you ever think that I might not be comfortable with operating?” You practically snapped back, pulling your hand away. “I still can't go into the operating room without feeling as if my hand will tremble!” You held your hand up, showing them the large scar that stayed present after all these years.
It was a constant reminder of how you spent your first few years at the hospital. Constantly being shunned and neglected by the people who you were supposed to call your teachers. It wasn't fair, and none of them contributed to your current success as a surgeon. Except for Levi and Hange, you never would've been where you are today.
And with those words, you stormed out of the office. Practically slamming the door behind yourself, you stomped down the hallway, trying to recollect your emotions. Everything felt out of order, as if you'd been transported to another dimension. In what world would Hange Zoe have cancer? It didn't make sense, and you didn't want to believe it.
“Kirstein!” Levi called out as he followed after you. “You can't just walk out like that!”
“What do you want from me, Levi?” you abruptly stopped, glaring at him.
He tried easing the tightness in his throat, not knowing what to say. He didn't really have time to think about it before running out to catch you.
“Hange saw you as a lost cause.” he blurted out. “Everybody in this hospital looked at you with pity and they’d whisper, what a poor girl. She has such a good memory, what a shame she can’t use her hand,’' he mimicked the voices of people who used to talk behind your back. “but Hange believed in you.” He continued. “Hange was the one who fought Erwin on a daily basis to let you join their surgeries. Hange Zoe is the reason why you’re an accomplished neurosurgeon. Don’t you think you should return the favor and save her fucking life?”
There were so many things you wanted to say to him, but you couldn't seem to muster anything out. And in that moment, you saw something in Levi that you didn’t think you’ve ever seen before. He was scared. He was scared of losing one of his best friends. So of course he’d want to find the best of the best to operate, and at the moment, you were the best of the best. Even when you’d deny it and claim that you didn't want to kill Hange Zoe, Levi was going to save his best friend.
“Who’s the other surgeon?” You tiredly asked. You haven't slept in almost twenty-four hours. You were tired out of your mind.
Levi stared at you as if you’d somehow lost your mind in the process of not sleeping. “So you’ll operate?” he could feel the weights lifting off his chest within seconds. Currently, Hange Zoe is on the right track to getting better.
“I’ll operate.” you sighed, knowing this would be good. You’d be able to help Hange, and that was all that mattered. “But I need to know who else is on the case.” You reminded Levi, hoping he’d finally tell you who the other attending surgeon was on the case.
Levi nodded his head, reaching into his pocket for his phone. The moment he heard about who the cardiothoracic surgeon that Hange carefully chose to operate, he immediately began extensive research. He needed to know what school this surgeon went to, their published papers, any work regarding the surgeon. Levi was determined to know the ins-and-outs of who would be cutting into Hange. The only thing that made him feel better was the fact that Hange had personally trained this doctor.
“The surgeon went to the same med school as you,” he mentioned, searching for their name. “Actually, you might know them. They graduated the same year as you.”
“Really?” you slowly grew excited. Reuniting with an old med school friend? You tried thinking about everyone who you went to med school with. Mina Carolina? Rico Brzenska? The best of all; Hitch Dreyse. You were ecstatic just by imagining working with any of them.
Out of all the people you went to medical school with, there was one person you were dreading to hear. The thought of him made your stomach turn, and not in a good way. The one person who single handedly made your entire intern year a living hell. Of course, you knew this wasn't intentional. He wasn't even present during your intern year. After the incident regarding your hand occured, he left the Maria district to work at a different hospital. That was how scared he was of you after the accident happened. His decision to leave was better for everyone, considering the fact that you had yelled at him for hours on end to leave. That you never wanted to see his face ever again.
“He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon at Sina Memorial Hospital.” Levi told you as he tried finding the name. He wasn't the greatest at remembering names. “I suppose he's sort of a hot-shot surgeon over there, he was nominated for the Jaeger Awards, but he didn't win.” He shrugged.
The only awards you ever cared about in the medical industry were the Jaeger Awards. One of the most prestigious awards that a single person in the medical community could ever win, created by none other than Grisha Jaeger. Based on pure skill and innovation, you truly have to be the best of the absolute best to even be nominated for these awards. Of course, you have to submit your work in order to be considered. There were several times when Levi and Erwin had pushed you to submit your work, but you never did. There was nothing worse than being known as the person who almost won an award.
And just as Levi was about to find the name of the surgeon you’d be spending the next few months—if not years—with, his pager began to loudly ring.
“Shit…” Levi sighed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket, switching it for his pager. “There's something going on in the ER.” he began walking towards the stairwell. Levi hated taking the elevator. He felt as if they were too slow, especially when he was in a hurry.
“The surgeon, Levi!” you quickly followed after him. “Can't you just tell me their name?”
He shook his head as he continued walking, knowing that you were following him. “I can't remember it. I’ll tell you later, alright?” he glanced back as he raced downstairs. “For now, you should go home. Sleep.” his voice echoed throughout the stairwell.
The lives of surgeons were truly never ending.
The beds in the on-call room seemed to be worse than you remembered. Your back physically ached as you sat up, trying to remember where you put your bottle of Tylenol because you could feel your head pounding from a headache.
The second you stepped foot out of the small room, you were greeted by your brother, Jean Kirstein.
“How long were you asleep for?” He immediately asked, not even bothering to glance up from the spreadsheets and files in his hands. “Levi’s gonna kill you if he finds out you didn't go home again.” he added, shaking his head.
Jean Kirstein was just another surgeon. It was surprising to almost everyone from your hometown that the Kirstein siblings both decided to pursue a career in surgery, especially with how often the two of you fought. The only difference was that while you pursued neurosurgery, Jean decided to take the safe road and pursue plastic surgery. It was easier, simpler, and had far better hours than neuro.
“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you tried adjusting to the bright white lights of the hospital. “Do you have Tylenol?” you asked, following Jean to wherever he was going.
He looked up at you, closing the folder and tucking it beneath his arm. “Another headache?” he asked as he began searching through his pockets, finally tossing a tiny travel-sized bottle of Tylenol, and stopping at the nearest vending machine for water. “You’ve been getting a lot of those lately.” He stuck a couple coins into the vending machine, watching the flimsy plastic bottle fall to the bottom of the machine.
“It's probably nothing,” you shrugged, taking the bottle from him. “I’m operating on Hange Zoe.” you casually dropped the bombshell before popping the tylenol pill in your mouth, followed by a fountain of water.
“What?'' Jean practically shouted, catching the attention of almost everybody around them in the hallways. He quickly cleared his throat, realizing that he should have been quieter. “What the hell are you talking about?” he whispered, guiding you down the hall and away from everybody else.
You knew that you weren't allowed to talk about this. Hange Zoe was officially your patient. But Jean Kirstein was your older brother. You knew that he’d keep it a secret. You trusted him. And so you spoke as quietly as you could.
“Hange has metastatic lung cancer. It spread to the brain and she developed a tumor in the cerebellum, and she wants me to operate on it.” You made the summary short and sweet. You knew Jean was a busy guy, but he loved to gossip.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled, hand covering his mouth as if he were about to throw up. “and you agreed to operate?” He asked, wanting to know if you were truly sane. Even Jean knew the repercussions that came with operating on the most well-known individual in the medical community. He knew the amount of publicity you’d be subjected to.
He rubbed his eyes the moment he saw you nod your head.
“Are you serious?” He wanted to yell at you. “Do you have any idea what this’ll do to you if something goes wrong? You’ll be blacklisted as the doctor who killed Hange Zoe, or even worse; gorked her!” he paced around in small circles.
“You think I haven't thought about that?” you wanted to let out a painful laugh. “But Hange wants me to. She said that-”
“Does that really matter?” He interrupted, planting both hands on your shoulders. “Your brain is practically a computer, so tell me, what’s the life expectancy for someone with lung cancer?”
There were many reasons as to why you wanted to prove Jean wrong. Your entire life, he was your only competition. Trying to be better than him was the only thing you aspired for in life. Simply being the ‘better sibling’ was something you were ready to take pride in. Being back in your hometown for holidays and hearing your mother brag about Jean's accomplishments as a plastic surgeon made your blood boil. You were one of the top neurosurgeons in the country, but since neurosurgery was declared as an ‘unknown field’ due to the complexity of the human brain, your mother never found anything about you to brag about.
“The survival rate for lung cancer patients is around six months.” you mumbled out, more than angry that Jean was right. “But that's without treatment!” you quickly added, still hanging onto the tiny piece of hope that you could prove Jean wrong. “Some patients can live up to five years if they take the right path for treatments.”
Still, Jean was unconvinced. “Are you really sure that you want to do this?” he asked for confirmation. “I know that your hand is all better, but also I know you still get scared in the operating room-”
“Would you stop talking about my hand?” you crossed your arms, feeling as if the Tylenol was doing absolutely nothing for your headache. “That was years ago. I’m better now– no, I'm better than better.” your voice gradually began to rise as you argued with your brother. “I’m going to do this surgery. It's the least I can do for Hange, considering everything she’s done for me.”
Feeling like a little kid who won an argument over which dinosaur was better, you crossed your arms and stood before your older brother.
Jean knew that he wouldn't be able to change your mind. “Fine.” he sighed, wanting to change the topic of conversation. “Let's go eat something,” he began walking down the hallways to leave the hospital.
Your brother was an avid hater of the hospital's cafeteria food. He always claimed that he’d rather walk in a snowstorm to the nearest pizza place instead of eating whatever they had in the cafeteria.
“Wanna go to Marco’s?” you asked, knowing that it wasn't really a question.
Marco Bodt was one of the very few people from your intern year that you managed to stay as close friends with, despite the fact that he dropped out of the surgical program at South Maria after a few months. During his time at the hospital, he always claimed that being a doctor wasn't his ‘thing.’ Something about seeing blood and dealing with sick people on a daily basis wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. And so he went on to open a mildly successful cafe just across the street from the hospital, making it a hotspot for doctors who were in need of a hot cup of coffee. It turned out quite nicely for him in the end.
And so whenever Jean was feeling particularly detested by the cafeteria, he’d find himself gathering his friends—including you, surprisingly—and would take the short two-minute-walk trip to Marco’s Cafe.
“Call Eren,” Jean told you. “Ask if he and Mikasa are busy.” he said as the two of you began making your way to leave the hospital for what seemed like the first time in days.
||
Cafes were probably the next best thing to hospitals, in your professional opinion. Of course not everybody thought the same, but you were certainly keen on cafes as your second favourite location in the whole of South Maria. Cafes were also a lot better when one of your closest friends was the owner. The whole arrangement made getting free coffee and day-old pastries a lot easier.
And so gathering at Marco’s Cafe on a random evening when everybody was fresh out of a surgery seemed to be the second best feeling ever. The best feeling ever was being in surgery. This was also your professional and personal opinion.
“Hange Zoe?” Eren practically shouted across the almost-empty cafe. Several heads of workers and the very few remaining customers had turned the moment Eren's voice echoed throughout the cafe. “You can't be serious, is she being serious?”
Eren Jaeger; the hospital's best orthopedic surgeon they could ever ask for. There was not a man who was more obsessed with bones than him. Seeing a broken leg or arm would truly make his day better no matter what. And in the hospital, he was considered a ‘medical nepotism baby,’ especially since his father was none other than Grisha Jaeger.
Instead of answering Eren’s question, you wanted to punch your brother for being a complete idiot. “I told you not to say anything, jackass.” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, wondering how you were stuck with this fool of a brother. Immediately turning to Eren and Mikasa, you pleaded. “You can't tell anyone about this, alright?”
The two nodded their heads, being a bit more understanding than your brother was.
“Are you kidding me, though?” Mikasa whispered, feeling shivers crawl down her spine just by thinking about operating on Hange. “I’d be way too stressed to even do that.” She shook her head.
Mikasa Ackerman was more or less your favourite person on the planet. Meeting her in your eighth grade English class was undoubtedly the best day of your entire life. From that day forward, the two of you were inseparable. Sleepovers at her house were what introduced you to Levi and Erwin, almost ensuring you a career in surgery before you even knew what you wanted to do with your life. With her being a trauma surgeon at the very same hospital, you made it your lifelong job to annoy her as much as possible no matter what.
Your only friends seemed to consist of doctors and a coffee shop owner.
“I told her that it wasn't the greatest idea,” Jean added, continuing the conversation as if he didn't reveal one of the biggest secrets you’ve ever told him.
“How are you even going to do that?” Eren asked, almost hovering over his cup of coffee as he spoke. “I mean, take the tumor out. Do you even have a surgery plan?”
You shook your head while shrugging. “I only found out about everything a few hours ago. I have no idea what I'm going to do.” you sighed a bit as you rubbed your eyes. “It’ll be fine.” you repeated to yourself over and over again in your mind before taking a sip of coffee.
“I think you’ll do great,” Marco chimed in, finally taking a seat after running back and forth from the kitchen to the group. It was tiring to see him racing around the cafe, cleaning, and helping people out. “Your hand is fine, you’re not a dumb intern anymore. And you’re, like, the coolest neurosurgeon ever. You know what you’re doing.” he reassured you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder for comfort.
In your words, Marco Bodt would be the epitome of comfort. He was sweet, gentle, and generous. There were so many qualities to Marco that you believed would have made him an outstanding doctor, but he’s made it more than clear that he's content with his small cafe.
“Thanks, Marco.” you leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Marco’s right.” Mikasa added. “You’re not a dumb intern with a bad hand anymore.” She shrugged, being brutally honest. It was what Mikasa was known for. “Plus, imagine time travelling and telling your past-self that you’d be operating on the Hange Zoe.” She made a compelling argument that made you just a bit excited to get into that operating room.
Eren stared at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. “I guess you’re right,” he chalked it up to agreeing with whatever his wife said. “But if you really think about it, our med school-selves wouldn't even be able to comprehend the fact that we personally know Hange Zoe.”
The group laughed a bit in agreement. Hange Zoe was practically a myth to your eyes throughout your time during medical school. She was your idol, a god, the absolute perfect surgeon anyone could ever dream of. Turns out there’s always a catch, and that catch was cancer in her case.
Everybody watched as Jean's eyebrows furrowed, immediately turning to you. “Who’s the other surgeon on the case?” he asked, growing more and more curious by the minute.
“Don't know,” you sighed with a shrug. “Some cardiothoracic surgeon who works at Hange’s hospital in the Sina district.” you lifted your head off of Marco’s shoulder to reach over for a croissant, growing nervous as Mikasa and Eren exchanged awkward glances with each other.
“Sina Memorial Hospital?” Mikasa asked for confirmation, feeling her throat tighten a bit as she watched you nod your head for confirmation. “Do you think it could be him?” She mumbled to Eren.
And Eren immediately shook his head, nudging her in response as he didn't want her to bring it up. But you already grew curious from their suspicious act.
“Who?” you asked, pulling apart the delicate pastry.
At this point, even Jean was growing curious. He couldn't imagine who the two were talking about, but he deeply wanted to know. Eren shuffled around in his seat as he thought about what to say. But he knew there was no right way of telling you this, so he decided to rip the band-aid off.
“Armin.” He blurted out, almost catching you, Jean, and Marco by surprise.
“What?” You spoke as if Eren were going insane. “What about him?” you almost snapped at him. You didn't mean to sound harsh, but you couldn't control it.
Armin Arlert. The person responsible for your broken hand all those years ago. The one man you swore that you’d never see again, all because of the minor dent in your career that bled into a long-term scar.
To say you hated Armin Arlert was an understatement. You loathed him. You couldn't stand him. He was annoying, cocky, and nice to people. The last quality was what made it so much harder to hate him. He was so nice to people. It made you feel like an asshole to hate him at times.
But being the only person in your grade who was two years younger than everybody else and with an eidetic memory was alluring. It made you seem like one of a kind, a diamond in the rough.
Armin Arlert was the only other person who managed to do that—minus the freakish memory. He was just naturally talented at what he studied and got ahead easily. It was what made him so much more worthy of your hate. But over the many years you knew him, you’d realized what you felt for him wasn’t at all hate.
“It’s nothing,” Mikasa joined, wanting to ease the blow. “It's just that… Armin works at Sina Memorial Hospital.” she mentioned, intertwining her fingers around her cup of coffee as she spoke.
“Yeah, but he can't be a cardiac surgeon.” you stared at the floor as you tried to organize your thoughts like a cabinet of files. “Armin’s a neuro freak. In med school, all he ever talked about was becoming a neurosurgeon. It was his thing.” You tried wiping the grimace off of your face. You didn't like the fact that you shared a surgical specialty with your rival.
It was the main thing you always fought about with Armin. The two of you would argue for days on end about who would be the better neurosurgeon.
Eren shook his head, hoping Mikasa would save him the trouble of explaining everything to you. “Armin switched to cardiothoracics during his residency at Sina.”
The sentence felt like a blow to your heart. There was a slight chance that Armin Arlert could be working with you on this case, and it felt more than devastating. It felt like dozens of knives were being jammed into your back, and you couldn't pull any of them out.
And with the silence, it felt as if the whole conversation were over. Nobody could think about what to say after the shuddering fact that you could be working face to face with him.
“We don't know, though,” Mikasa quickly spoke up. “There are a few other cardiothoracic surgeons at Sina who would work the case. I mean, ask Eren, his brother works at the hospital in Sina.” She quickly nudged Eren, wanting him to contribute something positive to this conversation instead of making you upset.
“Right,” he nodded his head. “Zeke said there's this one cardiac surgeon, I-I can't really remember their name, but-”
“Have any of you spoken to Armin lately?” you blurted out, still staring at the floor. “After the accident happened, he kind of just… left.” It felt weird talking about everything like this. Whenever the accident was mentioned, everybody seemed to walk on eggshells around you.
Eren wanted to go silent once more. But he couldn't, he at least owed you the simple truth. “I spoke with him about a year ago. It was during the last Jaeger Gala that my father hosted, and he was invited.”
“Oh.” you mustered out, your pager blaring a loud ring and vibration in your pocket.
“Why are you being paged?” Jean immediately asked. “You’re off the clock. You’re not supposed to be working-”
Without listening to jean, you stood up and out of your seat. “I know, it's just…” you sighed, grabbing your cup of coffee from the table. “Falco’s back, so I told them to page me when his tests came out.” You told them. “It’s fine, I'll go check it out quickly and go home after.”
And without letting any of them say another word, you dashed out of the coffee shop.
“Should we start worrying about her?” Eren asked, glancing over to Mikasa, Jean, and Marco. “What will she do if Armin really is the other surgeon on the case?”
“She’ll suck it up, because she has to operate on Hange Zoe.” Jean finalized.
||
“Dr. Kirstein!” a young doctor called out. Ilse Langnar was an intern who probably had been working at the hospital for less than a year. She seemed like a child in your eyes. “The lab results for the boy in room 1018 came back.” She said as she handed you a stack of papers.
“His name is Falco.” you corrected her before reading the test results. A smile on your face resurfaced as you read the files. “He’s fine,” you laughed a bit. “this is perfect.” you felt as if the surgical gods were finally choosing peace.
Falco Grice, the boy with the Meningioma. He first appeared in the hospital with the tumor, which was likely the most common type of tumors you’d ever find in a person, regardless of age. Of course they were threatening, but you felt as if you’d wandered into a zone of familiarity at first. But there was still an unknown explanation for his seizures.
“Go take a break, Langnar.” you patted her back only a bit.
“It’s alright,” Ilse quickly interrupted, fumbling with a small journal in her hands. “I can go alert the family, and tell ‘em that he’s alright.”
You stared at the young intern, almost astonished, wondering if the younger doctors even read charts nowadays. “He’s an orphan.” you blurted out harshly, as if you were trying to embarrass her. But maybe embarrassing interns was what they needed to get into shape. You stared at Ilse as her eyes widened, lips parting as she attempted to apologize. “Just… go away.” you interrupted, almost swatting at her face as if she were a fly.
With that, she immediately scurried off out of fear. Majority of the younger residents and interns were afraid of you, mainly because you were known as the mean attending. While it wasn't intentional, you weren’t able to comprehend the fact that the younger doctors were not up to your standards. Which was impossible, since your standards included having an eidetic memory.
You glanced up at the large digital clock that was stationed above the nurses desk, reading eleven pm. It was safe to assume that the boys would be asleep. But something in you still felt as if you had to see how they were both doing. Something about the Grice brothers had created a dent in your heart, and you needed to repair that.
The pediatrics floor was unsettlingly quiet. Not a single noise coming from any corner, besides the repetitive beeping noise of dialysis machines. After working in a hospital for six years, you’d managed to tune those noises out.
The photographs of sick little kids who eventually got better were pinned to a large bulletin board along with homemade letters and notes, all assigned to at least one person in the hospital. Many of the pictures also belonged to the deceased, pinned to the wall to keep some of their memory. It was a sweet gesture, but it made your soul dim just a little bit as you saw photos of smiling children with the date of death hand-written on the back of the photo in permanent marker.
As you neared closer to Falco’s room, you felt this nagging feeling in your gut that something was wrong. The lights were still on in his room, pouring out into the hallway of darkness.
“Colt?” you quietly called out as you stood under the doorway of their room. “What’re you doing up so late?” you asked as you walked inside.
Colt sat on the foot of his brother's bed, using the bedside table to draw a picture on what looked like an old notebook. Colt immediately shushed you, putting a finger to his mouth. “Falco’s asleep.” he pointed behind him at the peaceful boy.
“I can see that,” you complied with his volume, walking over to him. You sat next to him on the bed, adjusting the thin blanket to make sure Falco wasn't cold. “Colt, it's eleven o’clock.” you pointed to the twenty-four hour clock that was hung above the bathroom door.
He pursed his lips, continuing to draw in the beat-up notebook. “I couldn't really sleep.” he scribbled as he mumbled his words. “Sometimes, I get scared that Falco will wake up in the night. So I want to be awake.”
Was it possible for a twelve-year old’s words to pierce through your heart? In what terrible universe would a child have to worry about their younger brother throughout the night?
“You don't have to worry about that, Colt.” you placed a hand on his shoulder, watching as he drew. “There are lots of doctors and nurses that’ll be here in case Falco wakes up. It's not your responsibility, alright?”
“I know,” he pushed a few strands of hair out of his face.
Something in your heart felt off. You knew that these kids deserved more than this. More than being bounced around the foster care system, and occasional visits to the hospital. There was nothing more despairing than seeing the sadness on Colt’s face as he fought off sleep to watch his brother. As you stood in silence, your phone went off. A text from Mikasa.
Mikasa: Would you be able to pick up Carla from daycare? I’m swamped in the ER and Eren got pulled into emergency surgery for one of his patients.
You read her text with a sigh as you glanced up at Colt. There was nothing more that you wanted to do than stay in this room all night to allow Colt to have some rest, it was the least you could do. But on the other hand, Mikasa needed you. And deep down you knew Levi would end up kicking your ass if he saw you in the hospital.
“I’ll be back in the morning, Colt.” you reassured him before replying to Mikasa’s text. “And I promise, I’ll figure out what's wrong with Falco.” with that, you walked out of the room, feeling your heart tear just a little bit more. It was starting to feel like you were the one who needed a cardiothoracic surgeon.
The hospital daycare was always the noisiest part of the hospital, surprisingly. With a herd of little kids running around and playing, it was easily the most chaotic. But at night time, it was quieter than a forest. The kids that run around eventually lose their energy, which is arguably your most favourite time to go. The only time you do visit the daycare centre is when you’re picking up Carla.
“Hey, Dr. Kirstein!” The young daycare worker called out when she saw you. “Dr. Ackerman told me that you’re picking up Carla today.” She mentioned quietly as she opened the door to a room full of toddler cots, all with the kids sleeping soundly, waiting for their busy doctor-parents to pick them up.
“Yeah, I am.” you warmly smiled at her, making your way over to Carla’s cot where she rested. You gathered all her things, throwing her toys into the diaper bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “She really knocked herself out today, huh?” you silently laughed as you picked her up, resting her head over your shoulder.
The worker laughed a bit with you. “Yeah, she had a fun day. Dr. Jaeger visited between his surgeries, she always gets so worked up around him.” she explained as she picked up Carla’s blanket, handing it to you. “Have a good night with her, Dr. Kirstein.”
You quietly blurted out a thank you as you closed the door behind yourself. With a little three-year-old safely in your arms, you made your way through the silent hallways of the hospital, stopping by Colt and Falcos’ room. The both of them laid in their beds, safe and sound. You let out a sigh of relief, staring at the boys.
Would adopting them really be so bad? They were both the sweetest boys you’d ever met. Colt was shy, and scared most of the time but he was always brave enough to stand up for his brother, asking questions and making him admit whenever an inexperienced nurse hurt him while drawing blood. And Falco was the same. He was a silly boy, who always made a room seem brighter. It was unfair that these terrible things happened to them at such a young age. These boys didn’t deserve to be in the foster care system. You knew that you could help them, but doubt always seemed to creep back into your memory-filled brain.
Mikasa and Eren’s words dawned on you once more. Hange’s surgery wouldn’t be an easy one. Unfortunately, their rumours about Armin didn’t make the situation any better. You were filled with stress at the mere thought of seeing him through the hallway, making you wonder about what you would say if you ever saw–
“Armin?” you blurted out, staring at the tall blonde dumbfoundedly.
“Yes?” His voice seemed casual. He answered before he could even see who he was talking to, only to find himself in shock to see you. “Oh.” his voice deepened.
The two of you found yourselves staring at each other for what seemed like hours. Standing, staring astonishingly at each other, as if no time had passed.