(Shingeki no Kyojin)

A/N - I looked, and I know there are tons of Levi x Petra stories out there. I just figured I would add to the pile. I am so obsessed with this show right now, especially with the 2nd season. OMG, people! This is intense! I'm loving this so much! Anyway, if you do bother to read, please let me know what you think. I intentionally left a lot of the names out, so yes it's on purpose. Thanks again for reading!

EDIT: Added a bit in there regarding the return, when Petra's father speaks to Levi.

Japanese translations:

Heichou - Captain

Gomen - Sorry

Anata - Dear (very affectionate way of referring to someone)

Aishite - I love you

Zutto aishiteru - I will love you forever

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor do I receive any compensation for this work.

Levi's Regret

He reclines on his bunk, the gravity of the mission they will embark upon in the morning heavy on his heart. They will take the rookies out with them in the hopes that they can rack up at least one more victory under their belt for humanity. But the question resounds repeatedly in his mind.

How many will they lose?

He knows they will. They always do. But who? And how many? He hopes for the best. But he knows that anything can happen, that the outcome cannot be predicted…

…when they go up against the monsters.

There is a knock on the door. "Enter."

"Heichou…" Her bubbly personality precedes her through the door. Petra is always happy, always a bright light in his otherwise dark world. She's the perfect complement to him, the perfect antidote for the places he unwillingly travels to in his mind.

"Petra," he grumbles. "You know you don't call me that when we're alone."

She blushes. "I know, Hei—Levi. She sits at a chair across from his bunk and begins to chatter. She talks about her day, about how Oluo still emulates and impersonates him to her great embarrassment, how she wishes he would put a stop to it.

But he sees no harm in the older soldier's accolades.

She talks about how the squad is worried about depending on a rookie upstart who can summon a monster from inside him, her mood growing concerned. There is a pause, but then she is chatting again.

"I wrote a letter to my father," she says. "Gomen. That's what took me so long to get here. I had to arrange a courier to get it to him before…" Her eyes catch his before lowering again.

"Before tomorrow." She shrugs and lets out a nervous chuckle. "But I know we'll be alright. We'll all come back, and—"

"Come here," he interrupts. She complies, coming to stand next to his bunk. He grabs her wrist, pulling her so she falls on top of him. She shifts her legs to straddle him, and he grabs her hands, intertwining their fingers.

He'll make her no promises. He can't give false reassurances. He won't. They all know that nothing can be predicted. All he can offer her…

"Did you lock the door?"

"Yes," she answers, her voice turning breathy.

"Good." He lets go of one of her hands, his palm resting against her nape, dragging her forward to taste of her lips. She sighs into his mouth, her arms rising, her hands cradling his face.

Words aren't needed as tongues meet and mate, as hands caress. Deft fingers dislodge buttons, fabric whispering as flesh is revealed. When small breasts are exposed, he leaves her sweet mouth to give them proper worship. Her head falls back, and she moans softly.

He takes her hands, guiding them to his own clothing. She works quickly, and then they are equally bare up top. Her hands are hot against his skin, and soon it's not enough. He pushes her onto her back firmly.

He lifts onto his knees and brings eager hands to her trousers. His eyes spear her as he disrobes her with a precision borne of many secret nights together. Their commander would frown upon the nature of their relationship, but they couldn't deny themselves this one comfort, of each other.

There is a thud as first one shoe, then another hits the floor. He slides her trousers easily from her smooth legs, and soon she is naked as the day she was born. His eyes, usually cold, ascetic, turn hungry as they gaze upon her femininity.

She gasps when his lips first touch her, as his hands clutch at her thighs and hold her immobile. Her own fingers tunnel into his hair, and as the pleasure mounts she is unable to discern if she wants to pull him away or hold him more closely to her.

She doesn't have long to contemplate, and soon her back is arching, her breath stolen from her in her release. He doesn't lift his head, his tongue and lips continuing on until her body ceases its spasms.

Then she is grabbing at him, her eyes pleading. "Please, Levi." Her mouth is still swollen with his kisses, her eyes liquid warmth as they watch him, as they yearn for him. He cannot deny her.

He trails up her body, leaving kisses in his wake, his hands stroking and teasing. He reaches her mouth, his tongue tunneling deep, sharing her taste with her. Her fingers set to work on his thin breeches, and she uses her feet to slide the garment further when her hands can no longer reach.

As soon as he is free, she raises her legs, her soft thighs cradling his narrow hips. He reaches down, positioning himself before plunging into the moist depths of her body. They both utter a moan, and she feels full and whole.

It's the only time she can truly say she feels free, when she's entrapped in his arms, when he's encased within her, when they are one.

He pauses, but soon begins to move, to make love to her. His movements are not as smooth as they usually are, more earnest, as if he wants to imprint himself upon her body and soul, to leave something of himself within her always.

She holds tightly to him, her lips brushing against his neck and face, breathing words she is usually too shy to utter.

He knows when she's close. Her thighs began to tremble, and he can feel little contractions beginning as her sex shivers around him. His hips began to pound her, his hands gripping her almost too tightly. Her breaths turn ragged against his throat. "Ah! Levi..!"

He pulls back, his eyes meeting hers, watching her before he takes her mouth as she climaxes, catching her cries and drinking them down.

She shakes against him when the aftershocks subside, but he begins again, this time going slowly, drawing each sensation out. Their eyes catch and hold, and he conveys all that is in his heart, all that he can't say with his mouth in his gaze and his body, with the way he holds her.

He doesn't say the words, not because the desire to do so isn't there, but because he doesn't know how. He was never taught how to love or to show his affection. His young life was a harsh one filled with poverty, filth, and blood. His is a life of blades, fists, and death.

All he can do is show her, show her with his body how much she means to him, and how utterly frightened he is of losing her every time they leave the relative safety of these walls. He sees the recognition on her face, the reflection of that same sentiment. But Petra has not the same upbringing, and so has no problem with forming the words.

"Anata…" she murmurs, her brown eyes never leaving his even as she feels the onset of another climax. "Aishite. Zutto aishiteru, Levi." He closes his eyes as the words, words never said to him by another soul, embrace his heart and warm his soul.

He buries his face in her throat as she comes again, revels in the squeeze of her body, arms, and thighs about him. He has never felt so utterly at peace, so at home being so close to another. She cries out again, and this time he makes no attempt to stifle her. He lets the sound flow freely to his ears.

He wants to remember this moment, her voice, her skin, her scent, the smooth strands of her soft blonde hair through his fingers. He has to remember, just in case…he can't think of that, not now.

He holds her tighter, molding her to him as he finally seeks his own release. When it comes, it hits him like a punch to his gut, his vision briefly blurring in its intensity. "Petra..." he grunts into her neck as she cradles him tenderly.

Never leave me…

He glances back at her as they sit atop their horses, the gates slowly grinding open. She is deep in her own thoughts, her eyes unfocused for a short moment before they lighten as she notices him. She gives him a small, secret smile, and he turns forward to face his destiny.

"Advance!" Their commander propels the Scouts onward, and thus begins the 57th expedition outside the walls.

He lets out a breath in relief as he hears the sounds of his commander's trap, the lances ripping through the Female monster that had harassed and slaughtered his comrades throughout their mission. So many had met their ends at the bitch's hands.

He is glad to play a part in her demise, ecstatic even. He turns his head, barks orders to see to his horse, and is just barely able to meet her eyes as he moves off through the trees. He must meet up with Erwin and assist in extracting the traitor.

He glances back once to see her galloping away, his horse's reins clutched in her tiny hands. He remembers those hands upon him, and it is this thought that speeds his movements. Surely he will see her again.

It had been a disaster. The Female had alluded them to their utter disbelief. With a full tank of gas and fresh blades, he wonders at his commanders orders. Time was short. Why would he need to fill—

A bellowing, enraged cry resounds through the giant trees. The rookie..? It was coming from the direction his squad had gone, the direction she had gone. No…

He turns immediately, quickly moving in a near blur toward the sounds of combat. The forest is a pattern of dark and light, the sun peeking in here and there, and he is focused on his destination.

Until he nearly collides with the dangling body of Gunther Schultz. He evades and continues without pause, eyes ever more attentive. He has no time to mourn, not now. It isn't long before he sees the mangled, bisected corpse of Eld Jinn. He feels the slow panic began to build. Please…

He moves on, the Titan cries growing louder and closer little by little. With a sinking stomach he spies the prone body of Oluo Bozado. His eyes, half-lidded and dull, would never admire his captain again.

If they are dead, then…no. No. He will not believe it, not until he sees for sure. He continues on. She had to have escaped. She was, is a smart girl, resourceful. Surely she got away.

But then he sees it, sees what he has dreaded in his worst nightmares. A tree, its front sprayed with a geyser of blood stands like a tall harbinger of broken dreams, of hopes killed. He lands on a large branch above the crimson mess. His breath hitches as his gaze settles on the source of the smear.

She is on her knees against the trunk, her head positioned upward as though cloud watching. Her sightless eyes are deceptively bright, the light yet to fade from the honey-brown orbs.

His heart stops. It seemed just a little while ago that he'd seen her, those eyes alight with the affection she had poured out to him last night, that she'd done again early this morning when he'd awoken with her in is arms.

And now they simply stare, unblinking, her soft hair blowing in the gentle breeze that whispers against her. All he can do is watch her, willing her to stand up, to tell him not to worry, that she will always be here and that she will always love him. That she will never leave him.

Zutto aishiteru, Levi…

He wants to scream, to howl his pain for the world to hear, but his eyes settle at her back, on the wings of freedom upon the field of green, on her cape that billows in the breeze and beacons his eye, reminding him of his duty. Always, his duty.

He meets her eyes once more before he must move on. Eren will need help.

He wants her to pay. He wants her to suffer and die under his blades. The thing, the monster turns and attempts to strike him from the air as she had undoubtedly done many of his slain comrades before him.

His rage has found an outlet, and he immerses himself. He maneuvers, slicing and rending her limbs and body. How dare she take from him she which was his alone, she who had held his heart and soul in the palms of her small hands?

His heart now ice, his demeanor cold and closed, he goes about the dirty business for which he was born, the purpose for which he now refocuses himself.

He turns from the fool, from the soldier who had endangered the living to retrieve the dead. He'd given it up, the last tangible piece he'd had of her. Even as he walked away he wished he'd have let it be, that he'd kept her patch for himself.

Deiter deserves to be left to his suffering, and he doesn't know why he would show any concern for him. But perhaps, in some small way, giving another soldier closure and hope would maybe replenish his faith in the cruel world they lived in.

But it doesn't, and as he mounts his horse to return to Karanes, all he feels is the looming emptiness getting endlessly bigger in his heart.

The old man continues to chatter, much like his daughter would had she returned with him, had she been at his side where she belonged. He is so jovial, so excited about the child he held so much pride and faith in.

He makes himself keep walking, his face a blank slate as he leads his horse. He can't. He can't make the words that will silence Petra's father forever. He can't tell this man that he had failed to protect the one so precious to them both, that he wasn't even able to bring her body back for burial. He has to keep walking.

Because if he makes the words, he will collapse under the grief that even now threatens to erupt.

Just keep walking…

The bed is a cold, bleak reminder of how alone he is, of how lonely he is as he once again feels the pain of loss. It is deeper now than when he lost Isabel and Furlan. Though their deaths had pained him greatly, this one seems to sap the very life from his spirit, the will to open his eyes.

Her scent, wafting from his pillow, haunts him. If only he had said the words. He could have done it. He should have done it. It would not have been a lie. But why couldn't he say them? Petra had died thinking he didn't care, that he hadn't loved her when he did with all his heart.

Would that he could just close his eyes and never wake again.

He knows he has to go on, but how will he get past this pain, this ever-encompassing, agonizing pain? Even now, when he should be resting for the trip to the capital tomorrow, it eats at him. It makes him double over in his bunk, clutching at his stomach.

How will I go on without you?

Even as he asks the question in his head, he knows he will. He always does. How many hundreds of soldiers have died on the various expeditions? How many have bled and wasted out on that flat, unforgiving land?

He will do it, because he has no other choice.

It will just take time. He has to redouble his efforts to give his all to the Corps. And that is exactly what he will do. He will fight and die if that is his destiny, just as he expects of any other soldier.

He struggles with his misery for an undetermined amount of time before he finally falls into a restless sleep.

When he wakes in the morning, he swears he can still feel the softness of her skin against him, hear her whispered words in his ears. He reaches for her but finds his bed empty. The events of yesterday replay in his mind, and he sits up, shaking his head.

How will he move on?

Rising, he begins to dress. He will do what he has always done. He will steel his heart, and he will beat this. The whole of humanity depends on it, such that it is.

He buries his pain in his heart under his ascot and goes forth to meet with his commander. They have a mission to uphold.

And, as always, the mission comes first.

Petra's death was the worst for me (until Season 2 episode 1, of course), mostly because I saw how it affected Levi. He may seem cold, but there is a human under there. Thanks again for reading!