The moon glinting on the stone in Hanji's bolo tie is the only thing Levi needs to see before he knows. Before she opens her mouth, before she speaks those horrible words, Levi knows that Erwin is dead.
So he leaves. He turns on his heel and walks into the trees that surround the squad's camp, feeling branches whip past him as he leaves his men behind.
He keeps his head down, and he keeps going. Just like always.
Levi doesn't hear Hanji tell his squad. He doesn't see their faces fall, doesn't hear Armin sobbing, "What do we do?" over and over. He isn't there to join them when they all form a huddle, arms crisscrossed tightly over backs, fingers clasping, because now it feels like all they have left is each other.
He walks through the forest until he decides he is done walking. He doesn't know how far he has gone, in what direction, until it is too dark to look at the compass he keeps in his left breast pocket. Instead he snaps off a few branches from a nearby tree and uses the flint he keeps in his right hip pocket to turn them into a makeshift torch. He gathers wood and stones and builds himself a small fire by the flickering orange light. Once there is a steady crackle before him, he tosses the remainder of the torch in the fire and sits down, his back against a tree, his arms wrapped around his bent knees. Levi watches the fire, thinking of nothing at all. He leans close to the flames in the hopes that his tears will dry before he can feel them running down his cheeks.
He does not know how long he sits there. Time simply ceases to exist for him. When the fire dies down he gathers more branches to feed it, but he cannot recall how many times he does it or how long it has been since the last time he got up.
Levi suddenly remembers Annie Leonhart, trapped in crystal, and he feels a pang of jealousy. You lucky bitch, he thinks. You get to hide from this.
He hears crunching footsteps in the distance, getting louder as they approach him, and then he is no longer alone. He swipes at his reddened eyes before he looks up to see Mikasa, carrying a torch. Her face is a calm mask, as always.
"Captain," she greets him softly. He looks away from her and turns back to the fire. "We should go."
"We will," he grunts, but does not say when. Mikasa folds her arms and watches him watching the flames. The firelight glints off of the tear tracks on his face, luminous streaks crisscrossing his cheeks and jaw. She stands there until she hears him gasp, his breath hitching as he tries to suppress a sob. Mikasa approaches him slowly, the way she would a wild animal. She resists the urge to stick out her hand, palm up, to show him she is being friendly. He doesn't move, doesn't look at her, even when she sits down next to him and places her hand on his shoulder.
Levi's chest trembles as another sob skitters out of his mouth, his breath shuddering in and out of his lungs. Mikasa looks at him, his head down, his eyes squeezed shut. Tears stream from his eyes, gleaming down the firelit ridge of his profile.
A part of her thinks that the Captain will recoil, will strike back if she tries to comfort him. But he hasn't hurled abuse at her, hasn't chased her away yet for observing him in this state.
It is a strange notion, realizing that even the Captain has a heart. And so Mikasa turns to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pressing her cheek to the top of his head. He stiffens, his slim limbs becoming sharp angles as he bristles beneath her. He feels brittle, breakable, but she refuses to let him go. Levi needs someone right now, even if it is only her.
"It's okay," Mikasa whispers against his hair, feeling him slowly relax under her hands, his muscles releasing their tension. After a few moments he shifts beneath her, leaning into her embrace.
"He died like a criminal," he croaks, then buries his face in her scarf, sobbing. The wool around her throat smells warm, of cinnamon and campfires, of what he imagines a home to be like. His body shakes beneath her grip but she only holds him tighter, supporting him as he slumps against her, unable to support his own weight any longer under the punishing load of the most intense grief he has ever felt in his life. He was never supposed to outlive Erwin.
Levi thinks it is ironic that it is Mikasa who clutches him as he weeps against her neck, silently swearing that he will kill anyone who harms a hair on Hanji's head. She is the only friend he has left.
Or, judging by the strong arms that clasp him, the lips that gently shush his sobs, the hands that rub his back - maybe she is not.