"Desperate Measures"

The next thing I knew, I was being carefully loaded onto a makeshift stretcher, Hange's anxious face still etched in my mind. As I was jostled along, I caught glimpses of the chaos around us - the wounded, the dying, and the desperate faces of the Survey Corps soldiers. Bertholdt's attack had left Wall Rose in shambles, and the aftermath was just as devastating. I was vaguely aware of being transported to a nearby makeshift medical facility, a converted farmhouse on the outskirts of the wall. The ride was bumpy, and every jolt sent a searing pain through my chest. I could feel the weight of Hange's worry, his concern for me and our unborn child bearing down on him. When we finally arrived, I was whisked away to a makeshift operating room, where a harried-looking doctor and his team were waiting. Hange was by my side, his hand clasping mine as the doctor began to examine me. "She's in critical condition," the doctor said, his voice grave. "The Thunder Spear did significant damage to her lung, and...and she's pregnant." Hange's grip on my hand tightened. "Can you save her?" he demanded, his voice low and urgent. The doctor hesitated, his eyes darting between Hange and me. "I'll do everything I can, but...we've never dealt with a case like this before. The Titan spinal fluid may have helped stabilize her, but it's a long shot. We need to act fast." As the doctor and his team worked to stabilize me, Hange's eyes never left mine. I could sense his desperation, his fear for our child's life and mine. He was willing to do whatever it took to save us, even if it meant risking his own life. The hours that followed were a blur of medical interventions, Hange's anxious whispers, and the steady beeping of machines monitoring my vital signs. I was trapped in a fragile, liminal state, caught between life and death. At one point, I drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of Hange's soft voice, urging me to stay with him. "Levi, please...don't leave me. I need you. Our child needs you." The sound of his voice was like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of oblivion. I tried to respond, but my voice was barely a whisper. As the night wore on, the medical team worked tirelessly to stabilize me. Hange remained by my side, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, his face etched with worry. Finally, just as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his face somber. "She's stable," he said, his voice weary. "For now." Hange's face crumpled, relief washing over him. He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. I wanted to comfort him, to reassure him that I was going to be okay, but my voice was still trapped in my throat. As I lay there, surrounded by the sterile smell of the medical facility and the quiet beeping of machines, I knew that our journey was far from over. The Titans were still out there, waiting to strike, and our child...our child was on the way.