#moblit berner

divider by @/diviniyae

The first time they met was not something Hange could easily forget.

It had been another busy day in Paradis University, students were walking back and forth to get to their classes. The place was bustling with activity, not a single moment of silence echoing out across the many hallways available. Hange stood at the very center of it all, wiping off a bead of sweat trickling down her cheek before rolling up their lab coat sleeves.

By then, only a few days had passed since the dean had pulled her aside to inform them of their newly appointed lab assistant.

Moblit Berner.

He'd seemed like a pretty good man, all things considered— a country boy coming from a big family without a single mark on his record. Seemingly has a passion for the arts with a keen interest in the sciences. Whilst it wasn't as much information as she would've liked to have, he lacked a strong enough online presence to track down anything else.

Disappointing, even if that was technically a good thing in-terms of his safety.

Could you blame them for feeling that way, though? They just wanted to know more, alright?!

This was going to be their new assistant, probably even Levi's replacement when it came to making sure she didn't accidentally blow themselves up! It was essential that she did some research on him, it's what Hange did with everyooone else she had to maintain close relations with.

At the very least, anything they couldn't find through their investigative snooping would be come to them eventually. They had all the time in the world to get acquainted with him, after all.

With the sound of her shoes pattering against the tiled floors ringing across the campus halls, their gaze would pour over the crowds of people. Silently, they sought after that one specific head of hair she saw during that small debrief given to her.

Where could he be? Had they not been clear enough with their instructions?

Should she check her phone and send a message over to him?

A hand would rise to rub at their eyes, squinting around as they tried to get a better picture of their surroundings.

Were they even remembering his appearance right? What if he dyed his hair immediately after sending in his application?

.. Was that something people were even allowed to do?

Mind racing with the possibilities behind his absence, they continued to rub away, brows furrowing in confusion as the action did nothing to aid in her search. Gosh, why was everything so blurry? Their vision was usually never this bad! It was almost like they weren't—

"Oh."

With one simple motion, her glasses slipped down from where they'd been perched atop her forehead. The world around her began to clear-up once more, blinking slowly to readjust to the sudden shift in clarity.

"Whoops."

Finding Moblit– unsurprisingly –was a breeze after that, specs now resting over the bridge of their nose as they finally spotted his figure. Thank the Walls! He had not, in-fact, dyed his head an entirely new color.

"Mister Berner, over here!" Hange shouted out, already jogging over his way.

As reiterated before, she knew what he looked like already.

Even so, the eyes that flickered over to the sound of her voice paled in comparison to the many pictures she'd shuffled through before.

To see it herself face-to-face was an entirely different experience altogether.

It was almost as if the everything else around them faded into nothing, unable to turn away from the sight before her— taking in every pore on his complexion, the way his hair was parted smoothly at the middle, those brown orbs that sparked something in her she couldn't name.

A voice screamed at the back of her mind to not look away, to keep an eye on him, to remember his face.

Keep him safe.

Keep him close.

Don't let him go.

Her heart nearly threatened to jump out of their chest, tightening in such an excruciating way they couldn't begin to decipher; not without understanding the cause behind it.

"—Hello? Did you need something from me, Ma'am?.."

Hange wasn't sure how long she would've stayed like that had his voice failed to break through the fog clogging their mind.

".. Ahem, ahem– Gosh! My apologies." Clearing their throat, they extended a hand out his way, greeting him with one of her signature grins. "It's Professor Zoë, actually! I'm not one to use titles like that."

That day in-particular shouldn't have been anything special. The poor man had profusely apologized for assuming things, following her around diligently as she toured him around the Campus. It had really just been yet another, normal day at work if you ignored her brief moment of shock.

And yet, their meeting had ignited a whole catalyst of events Hange knew could not be coincidence. Not when this was the exact thing that'd happened when she first met Levi.

All of which started as soon she'd gone to bed that very evening.

—The wind coursed around them, cloak flapping aggressively to its rhythm as she stared up at the slowly rising figure in horror. No, nonono– it can't be. That shouldn't be possible. He wouldn't do that. Not when– Panic began to fill her senses as she came face-to-face with the predicament they'd all found themselves in. She does not register the words being spoken to her, mind racing with orders to bark out, trying to find a way out of this. There had to be something they could do, anything. They couldn't die like this. "Quick, GET OUT OF HERE!" As if such a simple order would be enough to prevent this tragedy from occurring. The attempt was pathetic, but what else could be done? Lightning began to crackle up above, a bright flash of yellow beginning to take over the sky. It consumed everything else in its wake, expanding further and further mercilessly. Nothing could stop it, no one could stop it. There wasn't enough time to get out of here. This was their doom. "HANGE, WATCH OUT!" A hand plants itself onto her backside, pushing her away as she begins to fall back. It catches them off-guard, they aren't able to react, left to gawk in shock as a wave of debris and steam passes through and consumes her savior's figure. Through his figure. He is the last thing she ever gets to see, panic painting his expression, relief flashing through for just a moment before a searing pain breaks through her eye and the light takes over.—

Nightmares, yet again.

Not just those same old feelings of burnt flesh, either. No, no no no— it would've been a thousand times better if that were the kinds of dreams she was having.

Hange would've preferred that over the sight of those frightened eyes staring back at her.

Alas, the dreams come with a newfound revelation;

Moblit is one of them.

There was no point in denying it. Just as Levi had dreamed of her once, they are having that same dilemma now.

Moblit is someone to remember. Moblit is achingly familiar in a way they cannot simply detach themselves from. Moblit is someone they knew at some point. Moblit is another lost soul waiting to be awakened.

But Moblit cannot join the Scouts.

"Wh- We are not recruiting my lab assistant!"

That is the first thing they say the moment Levi and Erwin bring up the idea.

A completely unfair assessment, in her eyes, considering they knew close to nothing about him at that point. Her protests manage to go completely unheard, the two adamant this is necessary for apparently— she needed someone to be able to reel her back.

Someone who could stay by their side at all times, who could sense when they needed to be reminded of their limits.

A role he– infuriatingly enough –fit perfectly.

Even on the first day of the job, he'd adjusted surprisingly well to their rather.. reckless way of going about things.

—"Oooh! Moblit, come close! You've gotta see this, it's bubbling up so quickly! Why.. it's the fastest I've ever seen it do that! We should record it, don't you think? Take some pictures as well for documentation, since–" "P-Professor Zoë?! Get away from that! It's about to explode, goddammit!"—

They functioned together in a way that felt natural, Hange didn't even need to say anything as she found the man performing in-tune to her usual habits.

She forgot her lunch? It wasn't a problem, for he already had a lunch prepped and packed for both of them to share.

Stayed up all-night to work on some last-minute grading? No issue at all— not when he predicted this would happen and practically took over the rest of their tasks for the day while they passed out on their desk.

Got so invested with their specimens that they forgot to take notes? Moblit was already there, notepad in-hand and diligently taking notes for them in that neat handwriting of his, listening to them ramble on and on fanatically.

He was truly a brilliant assistant; the perfect match to their reckless fervor, the calm to their storm— the one person with enough time on his hands to dedicate his time into this one role.

The only person who could truly manage to do all this without complaint.

.. And yet, there was one teeny tiny issue that prevented her from being completely on-board with the idea.

—"Say, Moblit.. do you believe in fairytales?" The aforementioned man would turn over at the sound of their voice, clipboard in-hand as he narrowed his eyes at them. ".. What hypothetical are you trying to prove now, professor?" Hange couldn't really blame him for his skepticism, striding over to skim over the notes he'd already taken, a small grin taking form on her lips. "Oh come ooooon.. just indulge me for a moment, will you?" With the hopes there wouldn't be any harm in playing into her antics for once, he gives them one glance over, sighing in resignation before shooting out his own question. "What kind of fairytale are we even talking about here?" Her eyes gleamed mischievously, the plan she'd formed in her mind coming into motion as she leaned up closer. "Ohohoho? You want specifics?" They spoke, as if this isn't exactly what they'd wanted from him; as if this isn't the exact direction she'd planned to take for this conversation. Just a small confirmation, that's all Hange needed. "Alrighty then! I'm talking about those tales that believe we were all reborn from some past life we must've lived." A small beat passed between them, his brows furrowing further at her words. ".. Should I really be surprised that you believe in that kind of thing?" "Haha, I suppose not!" Lifting her hand up, she'd poke his cheek with a small hum, eagerly awaiting his response. "But do you believe in it?" Blinking down at her silently, he took his time to process the question she just asked, genuinely contemplative in a way he only reserved for her. "..It's an interesting idea– but no, not really. Why would I?"—

Moblit didn't remember a thing.

He didn't remember anything.

Not even the smallest inkling as to the life they once had.

Hange had tested it herself after that fateful conversation, dragging him around on her wild hunts for information; trying to jog his memory or force a vision out of him, sitting him down to say random phrases they'd hoped would awaken something. At some point, they were dangerously close to getting dragging him to one of her and William's 'dates' just to get a reaction out of him. That bearded blonde's skin always did the trick for her, after all.

She never ended up going through with that idea, but even so— all their efforts had brought nothing in-return!

There was no telltale signs of recognition in his eyes, no outward interest in the Survey Corps when mentioned. None of those moments of staring off into space when struck with a newfound memory.

Nada, absolutely nothing! She all but shoved her countless piles of notes gathered from the many visions she'd experienced into his face and still came out empty-handed!

He truly wasn't like her, Levi, or even Erwin at some points; he was unscathed from the bouts of deja-vu and endless nightmares that plagued them.

He was just Moblit Berner, former farm boy and starving artist trying to make a living for himself.

He was just Moblit, and nothing more.

He wasn't the man they saw in their dreams.

Just that knowledge alone cemented the decision Hange knew she'd make.

It wasn't even really a secret, either.

The way in-which they practically hoarded him away from the Survey Corps as a whole escaped no one's eye. She'd become wildly protective, didn't even allow the 'janitor' and 'history professor' duo any rights to approach him, let alone get any time to talk to him properly. It was too risky; she knew how those two operated, she knew just one moment with them would be enough to bring him over to the scout's side.

That's how they got to her, after all.

So, she had to keep trying. Keep fighting.

Keep him away from them.

...

"What is it that you're scared of, Hange?"

The question had come unexpectedly, on a night that was supposed to be peaceful. Amber eyes lifted away from the sprawl of papers decorating the desk before them, a brow lifted curiously at the blonde man lounging just a few feet away from her. It was one of those rare evenings she chose to spend at the barracks instead of her rather cramped one-room apartment.

".. Could you care to elaborate on that, Erwin?" One hand rose to rub at the bridge of their nose idly, unsure if she was in the mood to even try dissecting his intentions tonight.

"It's quite late, I'm not exactly in my best state of mind."

Like she said, it was unexpected. There had been absolutely no build-up to his line of questioning. The commander could be talking about Sina knows what, and they'd be none the wiser.

"Your assistant." Finally, he clarified, leaning ever-so slightly forward in his seat. "Every time we bring him up, you're rather skittish about the matter."

.. Okay, perhaps she should've thought things through before asking that question. This was the last thing Hange wanted to talk about right now. Especially with him— but alas, she was the one to give him the opening he needed.

Curse him and his ability to lower her guard.

".. I don't wanna involve him in things he's not privy to, is all. Must I need ulterior motives to keep him away from the Corps?" The words were chosen carefully, keeping her gaze steady as she looked him in the eye.

It wasn't entirely a lie. Hange really did want to keep Moblit away from this, from all of this. That was a truth she could afford to confess.

The reason behind it was the only thing she wasn't sure she could ever tell him. Or anyone, for that matter. This weight was hers alone to carry, hers to choose what to do with.

It was unfortunate that lying to him– even if just through omission –was an impossible task. Barely anything went past the Commander's keen eye, and he was quick to remind her of why exactly deception would never work in her favor.

"We both know that's not the reason why you won't let us near him."

How long would she continue to play this game of cat and mouse?

——————

It was idiotic to believe anything, or in this case, anyone could escape Erwin Smith's grasp for long. With just enough time, he would get what he wanted, one way or another.

Even if you won the initial battle, you'd never win the war.

Just that knowledge alone, however, did nothing to settle the heavy feeling in her chest upon seeing Moblit dressed head to toe in the scout's uniform.

This was going to happen eventually, Hange knew this; no matter how much they tried to deny it.

Moblit joining the scouts was an inevitability they'd fruitlessly tried to prevent to no avail.

He should be down at the university, working tirelessly to make sure nothing went wrong in the next series of experiments they'd be conducting.

He should be at home, working on yet another one of those wondrous paintings Hange has had the pleasure of seeing before; smiling bashfully as they complimented his skills once more.

All his stuff should've stayed at home in his cozy little apartment. He shouldn't be here in the barracks, at all.

He shouldn't have ever had a reason to wear this uniform. Those dastardly colors of green and beige should've never touched his skin.

Moblit shouldn't have the Wings of Freedom proudly stitched right above his heart, standing before her like a man on a mission— yet here he was.

Hange wanted to throw up.

Get him out of here.

Get him out.

Make him leave.

History will sing the same tunes of the past.

He will not live.

You will kill him.

Get him out

Get him out.

".. You joined the Corps." The words trickle out of their throat slowly, unable to look away from what they knew was a tragedy in the making.

How could they have let this happen?

What convinced him to do this?

What did Erwin manage to pull to get him to agree to this?

Why is he here?

What did they fail to account for?

When did this happen?

How do they get him out?

"I did." It is his voice that breaks her out of their stupor, affirmative in a way that has her seeing red.

Hands reach out to grasp at the hood attached to his cloak, pulling him down to their level. She wants to tear it right off him, to rid him of the responsibility he'd just bestowed upon himself. He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve any of this. Did he even know what he was getting himself into? Did he even know what being here meant?

"Why?" The brunette hisses out in a low demand, pulling harder, finding she couldn't care less if she'd begun to choke the poor man. "Why are you here?"

Maybe that'd show him not to show his face here.

Maybe, that'd show him they didn't need him.

Not like this. Not here. Anywhere but here.

His own hands grab onto hers, sensing the tension boiling off of her, unnerved at the sight of her anger; and yet doing nothing to push them off. Instead, he seems intent to keep them there, a beat of sweat rolling down his temple as he stares her down uneasily.

"The Commander, he– he told me things about you." He croaked out slowly. "About what you're fighting for.. what you– what you put yourself through just to identify simple truths."

Moblit would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit terrified. He's spent hours by Hange's side at this point; watching how they work, familiarizing himself with the very ways her mind seemed to function. He assumed he would've known what to expect the moment he got here, had been warned time and time again of what would happen should they find out— but naturally, things could never truly be easy for him.

Who was he kidding with? When it came to Hange, nothing could ever be easy.

"I do not know the full picture, I'm pretty sure he guaranteed I wouldn't." He begins before she can form a retort of sorts. He knows Hange wants to butt-in with a few words of their own, it had always been in their nature to let their thoughts be known; but now wasn't the time for it.

They needed to listen.

They needed to hear him out.

A spark lights up in his eyes then, taking in the rattled brunette before him; a person he's heard called a plethora of names time and time again. This reckless mess of a person he'd allowed himself to get attached to, someone he couldn't bare to watch from the sidelines any longer.

Insane, mad, crazed; everyone called them that, and yet they were only partially right.

There was so much more to Hange than what meets the eye.

"I don't know what it is that keeps you up at night, or why you're so keen on pushing yourself to the brink—"

There was so much more he knew she was hiding, things she wouldn't talk about. Things that haunted their every waking moment, things that'd explained the fear he could see flashing in their gaze.

Frankly? Moblit could only stand in the dark for so long before he had to step in.

But above all else? The one thing he knew for certain was why he was here.

"—but I want to make sure you can do it all with a sane mind."

A resolute feeling would pass over him then, hands tightening against the ones he held captive as he steeled his resolve.

That's right, remember why you agreed to this in the first place.

"I've already seen glimpses of your work before. You've shown me it before, you've shown me things you called basic and unimportant– ideas you've undermined time and time again for what?" He could feel Hange's grip slowly loosen as he began to hammer them down with his words, inching closer to her as she took baffled steps back.

Why do they look so surprised?

Why do they seem so doubtful?

Who planted these ideas into their head?

What does he need to do to get rid of it?

"I think you can change the world, Professor. I know you can." His hands would move up to their shoulders, keeping them still, urging them with his eyes alone to look at him— to see reason, to see why he had to do this.

"But someone has to make sure you don't destroy yourself for it."

...

Hange didn't know what to say.

What was there to say to that?

They could only gape up at him uselessly, a singular thought echoing out in their mind.

You can't stop him.

This whole game was rigged from the beginning. It seemed, no matter what timeline they were born in, Moblit would always follow her.

This is what he wanted. For some godforsaken reason, he wanted this.

There was no preventing this, no amount of effort would've convinced him to leave. Her fury wouldn't frighten him, her curiosity entranced him, he saw all of her abnormalities and decided that was worth protecting.

He'd always see something in them worth believing in.

Always.

The idea alone terrified her more than anything else this world could offer.

Nothing. There was nothing that could be done.

She felt the man jolt in surprise as their head thumped against his chest, once more reaching out to grasp at his coat as if it'd keep them grounded in this moment. It was such a childish notion, they knew that; but maybe, just maybe— if she held on tight enough, he'd never have to leave.

Maybe, they could stay in this moment forever.

".. P-.. Professor?.."

But forever never really was an option, was it?

"You have to promise to stay close." She hushed out, eyes clenched shut.

Just stay close.

Don't go.

Don't leave.

".. I don't think I can protect you from a distance to begin with?"

By the Walls, can't she just have one moment of?!—

"That's not– Just promise me, Moblit."

The desperation in their tone is not one that can be ignored. She refuses to look up at him, to acknowledge whatever reaction he has to this, knuckles turning white from the sheer force she'd used to hang on to him.

"Please."

It's uncharacteristic of them, to be so vulnerable, to be this fragile in someone else's arms; but they can't help it.

Not with what's at stake.

Please.

A warmth shrouds itself around her, nudging her closer as a soft voice hums out.

".. I promise."

"For as long as you need me, I'll stay by your side."