Summary: Seasons pass, and things change without them even noticing it.
summer
She first meets Levi on a summer day. His cravat is untied and he is all angles and an intense glower, his expression carefully arranged to let her know on no uncertain terms that he dislikes her very, very much.
So she introduces herself and sits across him, slides a paper and a quill in his direction. He's not illiterate and she's been warned not to treat him as one, but his composition could do some work. His reports fly all over the place, much like the writer himself when in action, Point A to Point Z to Point H in a seemingly haphazard manner, his writing never quite catching up with his thoughts. She is on mandatory leave from the Survey Corps, but she doesn't like keeping still, figures it's a good time as any to help out in other ways.
Humanity's Strongest Soldier looks very annoyed at having to scratch away with a quill when he could be doing other things, more useful things, but Petra finds it commendable that he throws himself in the work anyway.
When he finally hands his work back in, the sun is a warm orange on the horizon outside the window. She scans his work and is pleasantly surprised to see it only needs a few minor improvements. She tells him so, adding that she'll recommend to shorten their session to two days.
He doesn't seem relieved, he doesn't seem smug. He doesn't seem like much anything she's ever met. He simply shrugs, one smooth movement, graceful in everything he does. "If that is your recommendation, that is your recommendation," he says.
She doesn't know what to say to that, so she simply nods and collects her materials. Levi is still standing there, with an unreadable look on his face.
"Gustav Ral…he's…was…your brother, right?"
Her hands slow, and then stay still.
"Good man. Good soldier," Levi continues. His expression is careful and blank, a message written in invisible ink somewhere.
"Thank you, sir."
"It's amazing that you two were even allowed in the Survey Corps together. Will you be continuing your service with us?"
"Yes, sir. At least, I hope so."
If Levi disliked her at first, he seems intrigued now. "Figured you didn't want to be a schoolteacher out of the blue." After a beat, he adds, "I'll put in a good word to the Commander for you."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me," Levi says. He doesn't say it, but she hears it, Don't thank me for signing the death warrant you asked for.
autumn
"You let your guard down too quick," Levi admonishes her on the second week of training. He's invited her to his personal squad, and any feelings of elation are quickly crushed by feelings of unworthiness. Her shoulder strains with effort as she hangs limply from her gear. "You take a chance, but you never let your guard down, Ral. You're always taking a chance out there."
"Yes, sir." Petra responds automatically and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Auruo chuckling.
"That's enough for today," Levi goes on, and everyone breathes an audible sigh of relief. "Everyone take a good rest. We have a mission tomorrow."
Their first mission as a squad. A tremor of fear shoots through her, unbidden. She hides her face from the Corporal as her feet finally touch the ground. Everyone else are already leaving. She feels defeated and exhausted. Take a chance, take a chance, she chants in her head, like a prayer, like a song.
"Ral," the Corporal says. He approaches her and hands her a piece of paper. She looks at him, questioning.
"My report," he says by way of explanation. Dusk is creeping in and his gray eyes take on a warmer hue. "Would you mind taking a look at it before I submit it to the brass?"
"Isn't this confidential, sir?"
He shrugs like it doesn't matter. It probably doesn't, to him.
In the fading light, she reads his words. Death lined up neatly in a row, names of soldiers, gone and lost. The perfect calm that is required in these reports, emotionless and placate, jump at her from the page. He misses no detail, describes it as best as he can.
Petra feels like crying, and she doesn't know why.
She hands it back to him; her fingers brush his. "This is very good, sir," she says.
He looks at her with that unreadable expression of his. "Thank you, Petra," he says, and he walks away without another word.
winter
There are good days too, days when they all come home, days when she receives a letter from her father, good news, a nice meal with the squad. Petra learns how Gunther laughs silently, how Erd is a great cook, Auruo's gentler side. Sometimes she does well, and she thinks of her brother, hopes that she is doing something good for humanity, something that lasts. There are days where she is reminded that it's good to be alive.
Winter comes softly and quietly, a chill in the air and a quickness in the days. Petra reads a banned book about lands filled with ice and wonders what it must be like. The days are still hectic, but missions outside the Wall lessen; one can only do so much in the chill and the cold. She senses that the Corporal is unhappy but there's nothing much anyone can do about that.
Petra carefully saves her money to buy wool to knit scarves with. She's not very good at it, and Auruo would probably laugh, but she persists anyway. There used to be some sort of holiday in the older days, when the world was a happier place to live in. It seems like a charming idea, Petra thinks, something hopeful and cheerful to look back on.
Once she is done, the squad seem pretty pleased, and even Auruo looks touched. The Corporal accepts his gift without comment, and Petra doesn't understand why she feels so disappointed.
spring
People die in the spring just as the flowers bloom, and it's just another day.
Petra just about manages to survive and save Erd from certain death, and she's rewarded with two cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. She limps back into the city and refuses to meet the gaze of the people who line up to see their defeat. But Petra isn't one to sulk. She doesn't shut herself in her room in the barracks, only merely goes to see a physician to tend to her injuries.
She half-expects the Corporal to scold her when he visits her at the hospital. He does no such thing, merely sits down and hands her a small, rectangular object.
"What's this?" she asks.
"Chocolate."
"From Erd?"
He looks at her like it's the most idiotic thing she's said. Realization hits her and she smiles a bit.
"Delivery took a little longer than expected; those bastards are hoarding up the supplies," the Corporal says bitterly. Petra looks down on her hands and gingerly traces the outline of his gift. These things are luxuries; she doesn't understand why she has this.
"You did well, Petra," the Corporal says abruptly.
She shakes her head. "You don't have to, sir." She holds out the chocolate bar back to him. "You have nothing to make up for."
"I'm not making up for anything," he retorts.
She knows that look. "Alright, if you say so," she says mildly.
He sits in awkward silence. This is the first time she sees him where he doesn't know quite what to do with himself.
So Petra tells him about the lands filled with ice, white-capped mountains and lakes frozen over. Then something shifts in his expression and the lines of his shoulders relax as Petra tells him about the ice melting into rivers, pouring into the sea.
Dimly, she feels like there's a line she's crossed and she's not quite sure how and when, and where. But right now the Corporal's resting one elbow near her hand and listening to her, seeing the vistas in her mind. It feels like autumn again and there's the warm hue in his eyes like that day, one of those first days, and she's wondering why she's only understanding it now.
"…we should go there someday," she finds herself saying.
The Corporal turns his head slightly to face the window, as if to consider the world outside. Outside, where they barely survived. Outside, where the ice mountains are.
"Yes," he finally says, like it's the easiest thing in the world, like he actually believes it. "We should."
FIN