Dedicated to Freckled Jesus Himself. Happy Birthday, Marco.

Don't own SnK.

June 16th, 854, 6:45 a.m.

Jean Kirschtein leaps up, clutching at his shirt while gasping madly. His eyes are wild and they scan the room frantically, searching for something that is not there. Beads of sweat sluggishly flow down his face, collecting under his chin before dripping onto the front of his shirt, further wetting the already-soaked fabric. His breathing slowly evens, ragged gasps easing into softer, more controlled breaths. He looks at the calendar taped to the wall. June 16th. That particular page has been dog-eared, circled and doodled on many times. He smiles, but it is bitter and full of sorrow. "So...it's that day, huh?"

Four years have passed since then, but the raw emotions that he experiences are still the same. He closes his eyes, relieving some of the memories made with a certain friend. A tear makes it past his walls, running down his cheek. He sniffs and begins to raise a hand to wipe it off, but hesitates and lowers it. After sitting in silence for a while, he stands up abruptly. "Argh! What the hell am I doing? This isn't what I should do! This... this isn't what he would want me to do..."

He clenches a fist and opens his eyes once more. Those orbs burn brightly, filled with a renewed fire. He places the clenched hand over his heart, as if making a promise.

"I said I would live, if not for myself, then for him. That's why... that's why I can still get up every day and make it through... without him next to me anymore. So... I won't - no, can't mourn or mope around. You hear that, Marco! I'll live, and I'll survive, for you!"

He lets all the feelings and thoughts that were bottled up and buried deep out. It's a refreshing feeling, he thinks, to finally just pour everything out and release that burden at last.

And for a moment, that bright and hope-filled face is once again in front of him. A hand is patting his shoulder once again, and two warm, chocolate-brown eyes are looking back into his, giving him a sense of reassurance and confidence. As that cheerful grin slowly fades away, he is certain he can hear words being spoken. They're merely whispers, but he can hear them. "I've always believed in you. Remember, I'm with you, buddy."

Jean moves his hand to his shoulder, making contact with a phantom one, and smiles. It is a genuine, happy smile this time.

"Yeah, I knew that. I always did."

June 16th, 854, 3:47 a.m.

Annie Leonhardt rests in her crystal shell. Her physical body is encased in an unbreakable armour, but her mind is still fragile. Despite her lack of food, water or air, she somehow survives in that condition. She cannot move, but her senses still work. She hears footsteps and voices from time to time. Although, the number of visits she receives has slowly decreased over time. Nowadays, she is mostly left alone in the room. It seems as though her captors think she will never emerge from her shell.

In all that time, she has reflected and thought a lot. She worries about Bertolt and Reiner. She wonders about her father. She reflects on what could have changed. But most of all, she thinks about her actions, and all of the …casualties. The Scouting Legion, she acknowleges, was an obstacle in her mission, and had to be removed. However, he wasn't.

She recalls one of the times he approaches her.

"Hey, Annie! Do you want to eat with us?" He walks up to where she is sitting. The corner of the room is where she likes to be, alone and far from others. She gets ready to reject his offer and turn away, but the following words make her hesitate. "It musn't be very nice to always be by yourself, right? We 104th Squad trainees should stick together, after all!"

In the end, she still rejects him, albeit a little reluctantly. A part of her wishes to just go over and join them, to mingle and joke around without a care in the world. Sadly, her mission would always come first, ahead of friendship and bonds. That offer from him was the first and only one she would ever get to fit in and create ties with others in that place. And secretly, she felt slightly happy that someone had wanted to include her.

She regrets that she had to end his life. However, he was a potential threat. He had the ability to be a good leader, and maybe even match her power. With him leading, she'd hardly last long enough to complete her task. All problems had to be nipped in the bud, right? That's why she pushed him into the mouth of a Titan. And as he lay dying at her feet, he had actually looked her in the eye, tried to smile and choked out an, "...it's...o-okay..." before the light in his warm eye faded away and it became glazed and lifeless.

She had regretted it many times, she had. On some nights, she would curl up and squeeze her eyes shut, and mentally repeat his words like a mantra. Like it could keep her anchored to whatever sanity she had left. And in a way, it had.

Her heart beats faster as the gruesome image of his body flashes in her mind's eye. It's been so long, why was that image appearing now? As her internal panic begins to spread, her turmoil is halted suddenly. She freezes, before tensing up. There is a presence right in front of her. She can feel a pair of arms circling around her and a head resting on hers. The contact makes her uncomfortable, yet she finds it hard to reject. Then, she hears his voice.

"It's okay, it's okay. I don't blame you. I forgive you."

Her heart skips a beat. To hear those words again calms her down. To receive his forgiveness, something she has subconsciously desired, has her icy wall cracking and falling apart. Her fragile and raw heart is surfacing from its stony exterior and the defenses around it.

'W-why? Why would you-?'

As if reading her mind, he just pats her back and replies, "We 104th Squad trainees always stick together. So, I'll help you get better, alright?"

The sheer warmth in his voice reassures and comforts her. Yes, she would get better. With his help, she can make it better. Before he disappears, she imagines the grin etched on his freckled face. The sincerity in his bright, brown eyes. His kind and encouraging spirit. For now, that is enough to give her hope.

In the darkness of the basement, resting in the core of the crystal, Annie slowly opens her eyes for the first time in four years.

She smiles.

Here it is. A little one-shot for my baby Marco. Annie's a bit OOC, but, meh...

~Pride