I do not in any shape or form own the Shingeki no Kyojin franchise. All copyright remains with the rightful owners. This story is purely fictional.

From the outset, newly trained soldiers were well aware that life within the Survey Corps would be dangerous, with a low chance of survival. These facts alone steered many to take the alternative path of joining the Garrison, a route which held far less danger. And yet, there were a set of individuals who did not travel the alternative path, instead joining the Survey Corps.

From here on, the soldiers were revered by the casual population of within the walls which protected them from the Titans who threatened to destroy their very existence. However, despite the safety that the walls gave to the civilians, there were still those who dared travel beyond the walls, to battle with the Titans. Few would return, with each expedition beyond human territory, the numbers of the legion would lessen and lessen.

Within only years of their introduction to the legion, near all were dead and all that would remain were the prized and skilled soldiers, who were an unfortunate minority.

In spite of this, it did not mean that soldiers did not grow a sense of camaraderie and companionship, even though their time together would always be so limited.

Lance Corporal Levi now sat alone in the mess hall. The wooden chair that he sat on would occasionally creak in protest as he altered his position, a sign of the true age that the furniture possessed. It would scratch against the cobbled paving that created the flooring of the dated building with regularity. The room was a numbing cold, beyond that which would make you want to shiver. Instead it made you want to curl up into a cosy bed and sleep for an eternity. However, there was no draught. The air was still, silent. It almost resembled the fallen comrades who had only recently rested here: Dead.

His only source of warmth was the steaming cup of black coffee which sat between pale palms that still hosted a slight tremor of shock. Cloak and jacket lay to the side, on a nearing chair. The only feature to identify him as a member of the legion was the renowned title of Lance Corporal of the Special Operations squad.

Occasionally a younger member of the squad would rush through the doors in search of food, or to sit amongst friends from companionship. Their initial reaction would include questioning him if he was feeling well, the ghostlike appearance of him would suggest otherwise, nevertheless through glassy eyes and dry lips, he would deny it, insisting that he felt fine. To add to his performance, he would scowl and along a poor excuse of an insult to drawl from himself. The least he needed to was add to the grief of younger members. They would quickly leave.

The looks on their faces was a sight that he'd grown accustomed to, though he hated it with the same burning passion as the first time he'd seen it: The look of a grieving soldier. Blank faces, hollow eyes, lips parted to say words that just wouldn't come out. Their eyes held pain beyond compare, loneliness... Hope.

The clock ticked and time faded to nothingness. The sky descended to darkness from light, not even stars lit up the hall. Soon the candles would burn out and he would be plunged into complete darkness. One by one, the candles died, fading slowly. He imagined each candle as a dying comrade, their life burning away to nothingness.

Levi stared at the flickering light with vague interest, his mind swimming with thoughts. He'd not heard the sounds of approaching footsteps, nor had he sensed the person behind him. Arms suddenly flung around him from behind, prying the now-cold cup of coffee from his fingers, before being replaced with a soothingly warm and fresh cup, from somewhere to his left.

From behind him appeared Zoe, sitting on the chair to his right. Erwin placed himself in the chair to his left. Hanji rested her elbows on the table, clasping her fingers together, leaning her face on them. "Levi," she spoke softly, her words only hoping to gain an acknowledgement from him. He looked up, eyes meeting hers. She looked deep into his, her eyes were synonymous to Petra's look of concern when he'd not slept for extended periods of time.

"Levi," Erwin attempted, hoping for some response. Hanji tilted her head slightly, her hair fell to the side, ponytail cascading in the opposite direction, the light of the few candles remaining shone in her spectacles as she moved. He clenched his hands around the cup, fingers tightly laced together. Erwin observed his hands, he thought for a moment that Levi may even break the cup under his vice-like grip. "Clean freak," Hanji tried once again, forcing her features to curve into a force smile, though it soon dropped and she sighed. There was nothing else that it could have been. She knew full well how he felt. There was no use in asking him, she knew from experience that it could only make it worse if she did.

Erwin placed a hand on his subordinate's shoulder as Zoe grasped Erwin's free hand from across the table. With her opposing Hanji, she curled her hand around his cold and shaking fingers, holding them gently. Her forefinger traced along the scars, bruises and cuts that marred his otherwise marble hands, her nail ran across each little line and dent soothingly. In comparison, her hands were far softer and more gentle. Despite her line of work, her hands had remained relatively delicate.

His lips pulled apart with a soft popping sound as he readied his dry mouth to speak. "I'm fine," he managed, voice quiet yet still deep and commanding, "they'll return soon. I have work for them to do." He explained, Hanji's and Erwin's eyes widened slightly as the final candle died, plunging them into deep darkness; Levi was in denial.