Would they really call it coming home when it was a sharp reminder that most of their comrades did not make it back alive? Erd, Gunther, Auruo, they should all be there with them, bickering and throwing off their usual banters. There was an unfamiliar kind of silence that welcomed their arrival. Each one lost in their own thoughts, each one in a struggle to accept the inevitable reality of what they signed up for. Petra hung her head low, avoided meeting her Captain's eyes for she knew no matter how stoic his façade was, she knew deep down he was also grieving. They felt like kin after all. Levi, still leading what was left of his squad, kept his head high, face forming a distant emotion, bags in his eyes darker than ever. Silently, they returned their horses to the stables.
In the evening, neither of them came out of their room.
The 57th expedition may have spared Petra her life, but not her soul. He started noticing it first in his tea. There was never anything special with the ingredients she used; it was always in how she made his tea. The morning after the expedition, he imagined tasting a swirl of gloom marbling his then honey-sweet tea. Petra didn't stay to share a cup with him. Instead, she busied herself with the chores that were left undone before the expedition.
She realised she needed to pull herself together. For Heichou, she resolved. Midday, she knocked in his room to assist him with stacks of paperwork. He acknowledged her with a nod, and she returned a simpered smile. It was routine work that she was so familiar with, he didn't need to use any word to get the job done. There was a long, pregnant silence, its weight pressed on their shoulders.
He heard a stinging sob and he knew exactly why: the names of their fallen friends were there in the stack of papers Petra took. "H-Heichou," she averted her glassy eyes towards him. His expression remained composed, softened, but not enough warmth Petra was hoping to make a shelter of. The grief in her eyes pierced his pewter heart. That was when he noticed that the light in his soldier slowly started flickering to a dim. When he didn't utter a word in return, Petra burst. "Levi!" He heard her plea, but what else can he say? He was never one to offer words of comfort, let alone give a physical gesture.
"Please, it's just the two of us now. Please, Levi. Take off that stupid, stoic mask you so painfully wear!" It took Levi all the control he could muster not to make her feelings worse. Eventually, he managed to pull a tch. When all means of communication failed, he always resorted to that stupid tch.
He also noticed the distance that was beginning to form landscapes in between them. The 57th expedition may have spared Petra her life, but not the version of her he cherished. His thoughts shattered when she excused herself from her captain.
"Petra," he muttered. She halted before the door but did not bother looking back. "Take all the time to grieve. But remember your allegiance to the corps. The pledge you made to humanity." She could not believe she was hearing all of this at an ungodly time.
"We need all our surviving soldiers to carry on our mission. I need you, soldier." And with that, she left.
The landscapes their indifference formed broadened physically, emotionally. In the distance, he recollected fragments of who she once was, looking at her with such longing. Her light waned to a faint glow from the sun she used to be. Warmth replaced by apathy, smiles wiped off completely. She remained loyal to him nevertheless. But loyalty without a heart was absolutely another thing.
She always thought herself to be strong, able to endure any physical and emotional pain thrown at her way. Petra: meaning stone, rock. But in her recluse, a macabre thought sneaked its way to her. Perhaps being dead was a more favourable state now, instead of being constantly claimed by the darkness that enveloped her since she came home broken from the 57th expedition.