FicWad

She found him unconscious. Wounded. Staring into the overcast sky, eyes glassy, reflecting the half-light of the clouds. Blood trickled freely from his mouth and nose, soaking through his chest.

"Franz?" Her voice shook with relief as she leant over him. He did not seem to hear her. Was he unconscious? "F-Franz?"

She checked his pulse and found nothing. Checked his heart and found the same. She pulled up, came away slick with his blood. She laid her hands upon him and drove the heels of her palms into his stomach. Nothing came but more blood.

With no options left to her, she pinched his nose shut and blew the oxygen into his mouth. The taste of iron and bile swept her tongue, and she gagged. There was so much blood that she had to keep spitting onto the ground beside him to breathe herself. Every time she pushed into his chest, a fresh spurt of crimson issued from his unresponsive throat. She fell into a steady, frantic pattern; juxtaposed between pumping the blood from his lungs, delivering more air, whispering reassurance.

Franz was going to fine. He must be. Had they not promised each other that they would survive, joked that, with any luck, they would marry when this was all over?

Where were the others, now? Mina, Thomas, Nac? Were they dead?

A loud crash, a cry of pain. Someone had fallen. She froze, hovering over Franz. Should she turn around?

"Hannah!" Armin. He was limping toward her, wincing, looking dizzy and scared. "Are you all right?"

"Armin!" she cried, voice too high, too shrill. "Franz needs help!"

Armin stared at her as if her words were unintelligible. She ignored him. Franz was going to be fine, couldn't Armin see that?

"Hannah," he said finally, voice hoarse, "you...we need to get to higher ground. It's dangerous out here."

"I can't leave Franz like this!" she screamed at him.

"Hannah, Franz is―"

"He's going to be fine! But we need to help him―" she whirled back to Franz, turning desperate, "―I can't revive him! I keep trying and I can't do anything!"

A long silence settled in the wake of her emotional outburst, broken only by the faulty staccato of her breath. Armin made an involuntary sputtering sound, much like a hiccup.

"Stop it―" he choked on his words, tone and breath uneven, "oh God, Hannah, don't―it won't...it won't d-do him any good, now."

She barely registered this. He turned away, shaking.

Another pause.

Armin inhaled, exhaled. "...Come with me. Please." The stability in his voice was forced. "We need to escape."

Hannah held Franz to her and shook her head, stifling a whimper against his shoulder. He was still warm on account of all the fresh blood she'd brought up, smearing her face and hair, her hands, her tattered uniform.

She held his lifeless torso in her arms, rocking back and forth, slowly, like a mother comforting her child.

Don't leave me, Franz.

Armin stared weakly at her.

"Go," she implored.

So he did.