Levi sat the dinner plate down on the table, the plates making a dull 'clink' sound on the clean tablecloth. Mikasa adjusted the silverware, well aware that her father liked things a certain way. Though his obsessive cleaning habits amused her, his organization drove her a bit mad at times.

Levi served the soup silently, nothing being said in the clean space. Usually, the table would be filled with lively chatter. It still was, but there had always been a bright, third individual who would make Levi smile and Mikasa laugh.

Levi still smiled, and Mikasa still laughed. Just not as often. Not since the silence now came with the third, empty chair occupying the space at the table.

Mikasa adjusted the sleeves of her dark black shirt, pushing her black hair back as she got the cups. Since she cut her hair, everyone had been commenting how much she looked like her father. The thought bemused Mikasa, but she never really took it seriously.

Her mother had always gushed how similar she and Levi looked though.

At times, Mikasa would wish she had inherited some trait or physical appearance of her mother. Maybe her orange hair, or her amber eyes. But no, she was completely like her father. A female version of Levi.

The aroma of the soup reached Mikasa's nose as she sat down at the table, and she smiled when she recognized what it was. She turned to see Levi, who was stirring his soup in his bowl. He caught her smiling, and grinned. "Your favorite," he stated.

She nodded. "That is is." She stirred her soup, lifting it to her lips. This used to be a meal her mother and father would make together. The kitchen was filled with Petra's teasing and Levi's chuckles as a young Mikasa darted between their legs, begging for a taste of her favorite meal.

Now, it was Mikasa who took Petra's place in the kitchen. It was her who got her father to chuckle and grin, and it was Levi who taught Mikasa how to cook.

Much of the same thoughts were going through Levi's mind as well. But it was not unusual for such memories to be at the forefront of his mind. He often thought about his deceased wife with longing. But he had been reminded that he was not the only one who was hurting. Mikasa had been just a young child who was grieving for her mother in the only way a child could. He had pulled through for his daughter, determined not to drag her down with him.

He saw so much of himself in Mikasa, but he also saw Petra's qualities in her as well. It allowed him to remember his wife, and to move on.

Mikasa cleared her throat, catching Levi's attention. His eyes flickered over to her and noticed how she was staring at him. He blinked. "What is it?" he asked, setting his spoon down.

She folded her hands, leaning forward. "I want to go to prom," she stated. "For my senior year."

He blinked once more. "Okay," he said simply. This was not unusual to him, as Mikasa always stated her desire to go to prom. Every year, he would always give her the same answer. He did not know what made this any different though, as he noticed how Mikasa's eyes kept flickering to him, watching him.

It was as if she was analyzing him. It was there he could spot the similarities between himself and his daughter. "You will need a dress." He frowned. "Where would you like to shop? I know a few good stores that Hanji-"

"Dad," she interrupted, taking in a deep breath. "I want to wear...one of mom's dresses."

Levi paused, going still as he sucked in a deep breath.

"Oh," was all he could say.

Her mother's...she wanted to wear one of Petra's dresses?

"If that is alright with you," Mikasa finished quietly.

He cleared his throat. "Of course," he said simply, his voice wavering. "I haven't changed anything on her side of the closet anyway. But there should be some dresses in there."

No, he knew there would be dresses in there. Petra loved to wear dresses, and she always looked elegant in everything she wore. She had even managed to make sweatpants look nice. Since her death, he had not changed out her closet, or anything that was hers for that matter.

"We'll both go up and take a look right after dinner," he said simply. "There will be a lot to choose from."

Mikasa smiled. "I know."

After dinner, Levi and Mikasa walked into the closet, and Levi paused for just a moment when he caught sight of Petra's clothes. There was that red sweater she had worn for Valentines Day. That grey and silver dress for their anniversary. So many memories came to him in this space.

"Dad?" Mikasa asked, pulling him back to the present. "Are you-?"

"So what were you thinking of style wise?" he asked instead.

She blinked before turning to look back at the dresses thoughtfully. She pulled out a red dress with a flowing train in the back. She looked at it thoughtfully, eyes wide. "I don't remember this," she stated.

He grinned. "That was because she wore that before you were born." He nodded to the dress. "Why don't you try it on?"

Mikasa looked uncertain with the idea of trying on her mother's dress, but she nodded and went into the bathroom to change while Levi waited on the bedroom couch.

As Mikasa slid the red, silky dress on, she felt a cold shiver rush through her. Through the full length mirror, she twisted and turned, noting with satisfaction how elegant it looked on her. It was a bit short, the skirt hovering just an inch above her ankles. But she was taller than her mom, so that was to be expected. But the dress looked great, hugging her figure and with a modest, yet low neckline. The thin red straps of the dress rested on her shoulders, and the bright, bold color brought out her pale complexion and dark hair. She smiled, nodding to herself in satisfaction.

Her father, however, did not share her feelings. His eyes widened at the sight of her in such a grown up dress, and she pushed her hair back as she awaited his response.

He crossed his legs on the couch with a firm frown. "No," he said firmly.

She frowned. "Why not?"

"You are a senior, not a twenty year-old married woman. I will not have you dressing in such an outfit."

Mikasa could not help but grin. "Did mom's dad think the same?"

"Your mother was married when she wore that dress," Levi said. "Whatever her father thought about it was beside the point." He pointed back to the closet. "Go pick out another one."

Mikasa smiled, looking at herself in the mirror. "I think it's nice." She shot him a look. "Mom sure was bold."

"That's the problem," he grunted, getting up and pushing her back in the closet. "I'll have to get out my gun," he muttered. If his daughter dressed like that, he was going to have to fend off many young men.

The next thirty minutes were spent with Mikasa and Levi going through the dresses. They handled everything with delicate care, touching only what needed to be moved as if they were afraid of disturbing anything.

"You don't have to settle on anything," Levi stated when Mikasa had fallen silent. "We could always go shopping."

"Dad," she said, getting up. "You always buy me a new dress for prom."

"It's my pleasure," he said, not looking at her as he gently placed a black skirt back.

She bit her lip, thinking deeply. "Prom's not for another few weeks," she said. "I have time."

He shrugged simply as they left the closet, and he glanced right back at the untouched space before turning out the lights.

The day of the prom came, and Levi had yet to see Mikasa chose another dress, either from a store or from the closet. He had gone back to see if the red dress was still there, which, to his relief, it was. But his relief was replaced with confusion as he was left wondering what Mikasa had chosen.

He was at the pristine kitchen counter, going over his work when the front door opened. He looked up when a group of familiar girls came in, their hair all done up and ready for prom. They all greeted him politely, but his eyes were on Mikasa as she entered the room, her short, black hair curled up elegantly.

"Hi Dad," she said with a smile. "We'll be upstairs getting ready."

He nodded, knowing the ritual. Mikasa and the girls would go out for their hair, then spend an hour, possibly thirty minutes doing each others nails and makeup while getting dressed. He watched as the group of girls came in, carrying their dresses carefully. Not surprisingly, Historia carried a pink dress, as usual. Different style, same color.

He smirked. "Same dress, Ymir?" he asked as the taller, brown haired girl walked by.

Ymir smirked, displaying her dark black dress. "You know it sir."

"We got her new shoes though," Sasha piped up, leaning over the banister with a grin.

Mikasa held up the black pumps with a triumphant smirk, causing Ymir to roll her eyes.

"You would have thought we were pulling her teeth," Annie commented as she went up the stairs.

Levi listened to the sounds of all five girls going up stairs, hearing the sounds of their laughter and chatter. He poured himself another cup of tea, sitting back down and flipping through the papers again, his house once again filled with noise.

Just as he had predicted, it had taken the girls more than an hour and thirty minutes to get ready. Hearing the clatter of the girls coming down the stairs, he sat back and watched as they all walked by in their shimmering prom dresses with their hair and nails all done as their shoes clicked against the white stone floor of his kitchen.

"Sorry Mr. Ackerman," Sasha said as she was at the back of the group. It was well known by everyone by now how Levi was with his house and its cleanliness.

He huffed, gesturing to the mop and bucket of water he already had ready. He was accustomed to this by now.

He frowned when he noticed Mikasa had not been a part of the group. He looked up before turning to grab the broom, positive that the girls had left some heinous smudge on his pristine floors.

"Dad?" a voice said from the staircase said, catching his attention.

He turned to look up as Mikasa descended the stairs, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear as she regarded him.

His daughter stood before him in a grey, almost silver dress that flowed in thin layers at the skirt. A bright, simple jeweled clasp was at the side and glittered brightly in the light. Her dark, curly hair framed her face and gave her a mystic appearance. If it had been any longer, her hair would have brushed up against her bare left shoulder. A simple sash was at her right shoulder, and her eyes twinkled like the beaded gemstones in the dress.

He knew that dress. Because it had been the same one Petra wore for her senior prom.

How poetic.

He swallowed, extending a hand towards his daughter, which Mikasa took as she walked towards him, her matching silver heels clicking against the floor.

"You look beautiful," he said.

She smiled at him before slipping out of the heels so that she was at her normal height. "I don't have to leave for another five minutes," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

She shook her head, her black curls bouncing. "I was wondering," she started. "If we could practice my dancing."

He smiled, wrapping his arm around her slim waist. They moved to no melody or music at all, both just content with dancing. He spun her around the kitchen, her dress twirling around her legs. Her face was slightly flushed and there was a smile on her face as she turned once more to look at him. For a moment, he saw the face of his wife smiling up at him. Blinking, he saw Mikasa staring up at him with a found smile.

There was no care in the world as they danced. There was no rush as it was just the two of them.

They both slowed down, and Levi stared at his daughter in his arms. She smiled up at him once more. "Thank you," she whispered.

Then she pulled away and left his arms, leaving him standing there alone.

Levi looked up from his position from the couch at the sound of a car pulling up. He glanced at the clock and noticed the time. Mikasa always arrived, and left at a precise time she set, so it was no surprise to him that the clock read 10:00.

He set his papers down as the door opened, and Mikasa came in carrying her shoes. He hair was slightly flat, and her cheeks were flushed and she seemed to be glowing. She smiled at him when he rose up to greet her.

"Have fun?" he asked simply.

She nodded. "I did," she stated. She nodded to the TV. "Which one? John Wick or Agent 47?"

Levi just grinned, holding up the different DVD cases. "Why choose?"

She smiled back happily, rushing upstairs while taking great care not to ruin her mother's dress.

Everyone had commented that she looked stunning in her dress. She looked so grown up, as Historia had put it. She felt grown up, almost like a different person. She had danced the night away, while also wondering what her mother did in this dress. Did Petra and her father dance like that? Had Petra felt as Mikasa felt now? Elegant and graceful?

These thoughts went through Mikasa's mind as she put the dress away with one final glance, before rushing back downstairs in her pajamas. Levi was just putting in the CD, though he sat back on the floor, a small frown on his face.

She tilted her head, her hair now neatly brushed and brushing against the grey t-shirt she wore as a pajama top. The black shorts went along with the comfy sleepwear, and it was Mikasa's favorite choice.

"Dad?" she asked, causing him to look up at her.

He rose to his feet, taking her hand gently in his. "May I have one more dance?" he asked.

She smiled as the movie came on, and the upbeat tune to John Wick came on. "Yes," she said.

They danced to the tune as the TV played on. There was no rush, nothing elegant in the setting or in the partners themselves. Just two shadows, holding onto a light as they danced.