Chapter 19: What's Left

Chapter 19: What's Left

Levi was getting desperate.

He'd been in plenty of bad spots before—life-or-death fights where instinct took over, where his decisions felt solid, even when the odds were stacked against him.

But this? This felt different.

Like an elephant trying to climb a tree. And waiting below—a pride of lions, patient and hungry.

His eyes stayed locked on the woman in front of him. Her hands still held his, something he wished would stop, but made no move to pull away.

"I—"

The words stuck. His face burned.

At some level, he knew she was right. They'd proven it already, in ways too obvious to ignore. They were here to help.

But why?

Why him?

"You don't know… Why should you?"

Moira's brow furrowed slightly, but she didn't speak. She knew better.

Let him work through it.

"Why should any of you help me? Maybe it's obvious. Maybe I'm just slow. You're all helpin' me, no doubt about that."

 He finally looked away, his face too flushed to keep eye contact. His hands, still trapped in hers, twitched—then, finally, he pulled them free.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He didn't deserve it.

"But you don't know me. None of you!"

His fists clenched tight. His breath came sharp, ragged.

"They always say somethin' pretty. Always with a smile. Some word from the Lord sayin' things gonna be alright."

His teeth bared.

"Well, fuck them. And fuck all of you!"

He shot up, heading straight for the door.

Edmond moved to stop him, but Moira lifted a hand, calm, steady. Let him be.

Levi was halfway there when he stopped, spinning back. His face was twisted, wild with something too deep, too raw to name.

"You wanna know my story?! Fine! I'll tell it!"

His amber eyes burned.

"But don't a single one of you look at me different after. Don't you fuckin' dare."

"Already lookin' at ya different, kid."

Rufus leaned back, arms crossed, voice steady.

 "Ain't seen ya like this yet. Just do us all a favor—tone down the way you speak to the Sister here. Be angry, just mind your words."

Levi blinked, caught off guard.

Of all people, he didn't expect Rufus to call him out. More surprising? It worked. The fire in his chest didn't cool, but it steadied. He glanced at Moira, face still tight, but calmer.

"Sorry for cursin', Sister."

"It's alright. Just say what you need to."

He took a deep breath. His fists unclenched, fingers flexing, stiff from how hard he'd been gripping them. The anger was still there. The shame, too. But most of all, he was confused.

And if these people thought his bullshit was worth hearing—he'd prove them wrong.

Truth and all.

He wasn't worth shit.

"Feelin' kinda stupid. Guess these things start at the beginnin', don't they?"

Still keeping his distance, he moved to a workbench along the wall, sitting on its edge.

"Never knew my folks. Was told I was left on some church steps as a baby. Wasn't even a note."

His voice stayed flat. Detached.

"Spent my childhood in an orphanage. Guess I was what they called a troubled child—least that's the nicest way the nuns put it. Don't think I went a day without a few lashes. But other than that, it was pretty normal. Had some friends too."

Moira's eyes flicked to his hand. She noticed it immediately—the telltale scars across his knuckles.

She'd seen them before. On hundreds of orphaned children.

Levi caught her staring. His fingers curled, subtly hiding them as he continued.

"When I was about eight, everything changed."

His jaw clenched. A flicker of hesitation.

He weighed his words, choosing his next ones carefully.

"A fire started." 

His voice dropped slightly, quieter.

 "Somehow. Burned down the orphanage. Took half the town with it."

A pause.

"Killed all my friends."

His fingers dug into the edge of the workbench.

"I'm so sorry. That must've been hard."

Moira leaned forward. He could tell she wasn't just filling air—she meant it. But something about the way she held her hands, steady and sure, made that fire in his chest burn hotter.

"Losing them wasn't hard. It was easy."

The words came out flat. Cold.

"What was hard was what they went through."

His teeth clenched.

"But I did what I had to. I was on my own. Didn't have much of a taste for the Church, but I got in plenty of fights. Was good at it too."

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"Ended up meetin' this merc. He was gettin' old, havin' trouble carryin' shi—" 

He caught himself, glancing at Moira. 

"—carrying things. Agreed to train me if I worked for him. Spent four years with the bastard. Then one night, he decided he wanted somethin'... different."

Levi's fingers twitched, his breath slow and measured.

"He stabbed a knife in my ribs. Thought that'd be enough to hold me down."

Rufus coughed, shifting in his seat like he'd just seen a ghost.

"He didn't get nothin' from me, so don't look at me like that. All he got was his throat slit."

Maggie slammed her fist down, her voice tight.

"Ces salauds! Cochonnerie puante!"

He didn't understand French, but Levi caught her meaning. He shot her a short smile before getting back to it.

"After that, I went out on my own. Did merc work. Found out I was damn good at it. Ended up in places I never should've been, but I always survived."

His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers curling in.

"Until that night they took me."

"I'm still not sure what happened. Think something next to me exploded, but I'd already been hit by then. Took two arrows in the back, one in the gut."

Moira and Maggie covered their mouths, while Edmond and Rufus exchanged a look—Impressive.

"Next thing I knew, I woke up strapped down. My arm was gone, my chest cracked open, and some stitcher was elbow-deep in me. Had this big green eye, like some kinda bug. And there was a woman with him. Some German bitch."

His lip curled.

"Sorry, but I ain't apologizing for that one."

Moira shook her head, almost in disbelief.

"It's okay."

"Not sure how long I was there. They kept me full of drugs the whole time, but they struggled to keep me under. Seems my body don't just heal fast—drugs don't stick either. Didn't matter how much they pumped into me. Started to feel every cut. Every damn time."

He stood and pulled off his shirt. The room went quiet.

Scars. From his face to his beltline, his skin was a road map of violence.

"I've been cut and stabbed. Shot with arrows. Broke most my bones. Once had to hold my guts in after a bar fight till some doc stitched me back up."

He pulled his shirt back on, then raised his arm. The metal caught the dim light, the joints clicking as he flexed his fingers.

"But this?" 

His voice dropped. 

"This ain't mine."

His eyes swept across them, daring anyone to challenge it.

"Didn't earn this scar. Didn't ask for no one to replace my parts. They took my arm. My eyes. My spine."

A breath. A beat.

"Even took my heart."

Edmond shot forward, his chair scraping against the floor.

"Shit—!"

Moira stiffened.

"Your heart? Wait—what do ya mean?"

Moira felt her pulse hammer in her ears.

She had seen war, seen men broken beyond saving, held the hands of dying soldiers as they whispered their final prayers. 

She had stitched flesh, mended wounds, watched as Vaporguard technology turned men into something more—and something less.

But this—

She lurched forward, crossing the room and grabbing Levi's wrist before she even realized she'd moved.

"Say that again."

He tapped his chest once, the sound hollow.

"They switched my heart with a Pneuma Core." 

Pulling his arm back, his metal fingers curling into a fist.

 Moira's hands hovered in the empty space where she'd held him, her breath caught halfway in her throat.

The Church had done many things. She had justified most of them. Had buried her doubts beneath scripture, beneath the idea that sometimes, for the greater good, sacrifices had to be made.

But a heart—

Her stomach turned.

"No, no—" 

Her voice came out breathless, like the words had been punched from her lungs.

 "That—that's not possible."

Levi just stared. No anger, no smugness. Just that dead, steady look.

"Sorry Sister, it is."

Moira's head shook before she could stop it.

Pneuma Cores powered Vaporguard. Augmentations. Weapons. Machines. But not men. Not like this.

The human body could not live without a heart. Vaporguard enhancements strengthened, replaced, enhanced—but they did not sustain life. Not without something else. Something… unnatural.

She gripped the cross hanging from her neck, knuckles white.

Levi was breathing. Talking. Moving. Living.

Without a heart.

The room blurred. Her world cracked.

This wasn't science. This wasn't medicine.

This was heresy.

Her stomach churned, her breath shuddering as she finally met Levi's eyes.

"How?"

Levi shrugged. 

"Stitcher never explained, and I never thought to ask."

Moira's mind raced, pulling at every scrap of knowledge she had. Vaporguard technology—Earthsong magic—Pneuma Cores—

Something had to be keeping him alive. Something beyond steel and steam.

She turned to Edmond, desperation creeping into her voice.

"You knew?"

Edmond's face was grim. His silence was answer enough.

Rufus exhaled, dragging a hand down his scalp.

 "Yeah, Sister. We knew."

Moira swallowed. Her throat was dry.

She looked back at Levi, the bitter, angry boy who sat before her. A child who had survived what no man should.

She saw his scars. The missing pieces. The weight in his eyes.

And for the first time, she didn't just pity him.

She mourned him.