Ok, maybe this isn't necessary. It's kinda sick-fic-y, kinda deleted scene-y. To be honest, I just wanted to post something. This is a sequel to something in the works now. I'll explain at the end. Hope you guys like it anyways. I still appreciate it. So, enjoy this bit for what it is. I hope you like it. :)

Epilogue: Four Months Later

. . . Cold. . .

So cold. . .

. . . Can't feel my legs. And it's hard to breathe. . .

Please. . . Someone. . .

. . . Help. . .

I can't breath. . .

Oh God. . . I-I think I'm dying. . . !

Someone- Help me!

Suddenly the struggle that yielded no results before was finally over. So much air flooded his lungs that it shook him awake. The light was blinding, overpowering, but finally receded back to an oil lantern on a night stand. Armin looked around in a haze that dripped with adrenaline. He was in a room. Somewhere. It was warm. Not like a fire place- just lukewarm, but better than before. Whatever before was. Shadows flickered on the walls. A blanket had been draped over him. Beneath him lay a mattress, stuffed with straw, and a second wool throw had been rolled up to support his head. An apothecary, small and made for carrying on one's back, sat in the far corner of the room. It could have been Reiner's (he was one of the few who could carry so much weight and still keep up with everyone, thus making him the perfect medic). Armin's breathing slowed to deeper, longer breaths and the panic tapered off. I'm ok. . .

Am I ok?

The blonde was laying on his side and curled loosely. A headache throbbed behind his forehead with each heartbeat. His eyes burned. Goosebumps crawled all over his arms, legs, body, yet a bead of moisture slid down his temple as though he were sweating. He opened and closed a fist. That moved fine. He tried to curl and fan out his toes. A little stiff, but manageable nonetheless. Something firm and toasty spooned his back for support. Armin brought a hand to his throat and smoothed it down to his chest, alight with a raw burn and angry ache respectively. He took a deep breath. Pain flared. And there was no denying the gurgling sensation in his side.

Ah, shit. The blonde huffed. This again.

Sadly, pneumonia was no stranger to this boy. Every winter back in Shiganshina had him bedridden with the horrible virus and unable to visit anyone. No snowball fights. No snowman building. Only misery. He was too tired to even read any of his favorite books. When his grandfather made soup, it always came back up in a noisy, acidic mess. For all the help Dr. Jaeger could give, Armin still suffered. But didn't he outgrow this? Surely he wasn't so weak now as to-

And out of nowhere a burning itch erupted in his throat and force the blonde on his left elbow and knees, coughing uncontrollably into the right arm. Fire seared deep inside. The walls of his esophagus crackled and contorted without mercy. Tears beaded at his eyes and the hacking echoed off the walls. Something smoothed over Armin's back. Someone's words graced him with tenderness. This went on for half a minute, easily mistaken for an eternity. When Armin was finally done he found his sleeve speckled red and his mouth brimming with a metallic flavor. His breathing came out in shallow, erratic puffs, his entire form trembling.

"You good now?"

The smaller turned his head. Of course. Eren sat on the heels of his feet, doing his best to comfort his partner. Armin realized that he was the firm structure holding him while he slept. Worried eyes, nervous countenance, cautious touch- it was definitely him. Gentle like his mother and attentive like his father. Armin couldn't give much more than a nod.

"Alright. C'mon, up." The brunette didn't wait much longer to coax the other into a sitting position. First, Eren left the bed, dug through the nightstand drawer and pulled out a handkerchief. "Here." The cloth was shoved into the sick one's hand. "Spit out what you cough up into that." Then, his hands sped down the buttons on Armin's shirt and smoothed the fabric off. "Take this off. You can wear mine."

It didn't even occur to the other that Eren was nude from the waist up until that moment. He wore nothing but a pair of drawstring trousers and the usual key around his neck. A new wave of heat drummed through Armin, as well as a strong shiver. ". . . Why don't you have it. . . ?"

"Hypothermia- I had to keep you warm. Y'know, share body heat. Believe me, you gave us all a good scare." He swiped his shirt from the edge of the bed and helped Armin slip into it. The fit was loose, but the cotton was light and soft. It would suffice. The air became grave, somber. Eren looked down. His hands slid down and off the sleeves.". . . I swear, you were blue all over and hardly moved at all. Didn't even shiver for a while. For a moment I thought you had stopped breathing entirely."

Hypothermia? Stopped breathing? The smaller fingered the fabric near his collarbone. Sure he was out of it and couldn't remember how he got there, but the prior events weren't that bad, were they? He strained to remember. His frontal lobe gave a particularly strong throb in response. Nothing.

Eren caught the blonde's expression of confusion. His eyebrows shot up incredulously. "You don't remember?"

Armin shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's . . . dim somehow. I remember being cold, but. . . that's about it."

Silence. Eren looked away. His shoulders sagged and his hand moved to cover his mouth. The brunette was hiding something. . . No, not that. Rather he was contemplating whether or not to tell Armin to begin with. Finally, Jaeger spoke. "Well, you pulled one hell of a stunt back there. But if you didn't push 'em out of they way, we'd be short a soldier by now."

Just as soon as Armin started to wonder about the whos and whats, a fragment of the past was plastered to his mind's eye. One of his teammates lay in snow and fresh blood, staring at him in abject horror. Then, a flash of white. Then black. Maybe a flare screeched back there, but the sound was muffled. A new wave of panic imploded inside and he started to stand. "Oh shit- Where's Connie?! Is he ok?"

"Hey, easy." The other was quick to hold him down. "Yes, he's fine. You may have shoved him into some ice, but he just hit his head. The worst he has is a nasty cut." Eren paused. "He wasn't trapped in the snow bank like you."

So that's how that happened. And something blurry surfaced. Armin recalled being unable to move, barely shivering just as Eren said, cradled in a large, firm mass of flesh- a titan's hand. He remembered two large fingers prodding his middle in an attempt to rouse him, then sweeping excess snow away from his sides. The image sharpened. There were giant teal eyes staring down at him, crying, and a single syllable rolled softly in the throat of the beast, as though wounded. No wonder he seems so uncomfortable about it. "Hey, don't think like that. I'm. . ." Armin stopped to breathe, reaching out. His fingertips swept across a tanned arm, only to fall onto the bed once more. "I'm still here. You saved me."

"I'm not so sure. On the way back I actually put you in my mouth thinking you'd be warmer, but that's probably why you're sick to begin with. You're in the basement of the south wing of HQ right now, technically under quarantine. Captian Levi wants nothing to do with either of us because I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"He doesn't want to catch it?"

"Yup."

"Where's my gear?"

"Don't worry about that. Mikasa has it taken care of. But while I'm here," Eren took Armin's chin and tilted his head up, inspecting the glassy blue eyes and white pallor, "I should see just how bad it is."

There would be no fighting him now. It was probably for the best. The smaller was promptly tested for his motor and neurological functions, pushing when Eren took a foot in his hands, touching each finger with only his thumbs, reporting how strongly he felt it when pinched, things like that. When asked, Armin pulled the back of the loaned shirt back over his head but kept his arms in the sleeves. It didn't stop his shivering, but the smell and texture soothed him. Jaeger moved back on the bed behind Arlert. Warm hands pressed firmly to the the back of his ribs, at the base of his lungs. "Deep breath," Eren commanded. Armin followed, at least to the best of his ability. Idly he thought that his touch is magic. Not the kind that cure any wound or illness but it was (and remains) powerful enough all the same. Eren's hands were able to quell anything, from rampant fears to bleak loneliness and suffocating panic. Perhaps that was the sort of magic all caretakers just inherently had, simply because they wished for the well-being of their charge. Being prodded as such was something Armin rather quite appreciated.

After all this time, he still cares enough to do this. Still finds my health worth monitoring.

"Your left lung doesn't expand as much as the right," Eren observed. "At least that's how it seems. Do you feel anything strange there? Like constriction?"

". . . Fluid. . . 't's hard to breathe."

Eren was swift in moving to the other side of the bed. He lifted the shirt up and pressed his ear and hand flat to the left side of Armin's torso. With the other, he flicked the back of his hand once. Twice more. He grimaced. "Sounds like it." He sat up and mashed his lips to the other's forehead. ". . . Burning up." Eren gently prodded the underside of Armin's chin. "Swollen lymph nodes. . . Geez, you're really fighting this." He pressed two fingers to his partner's neck, another two to his own and frowned. "And your heart rate's too fast. Feeling chills?"

"Mm."

"Nausea?"

"Not this time."

"Headache?"

"Kinda. . ."

He made an annoyed sound. "I had a hunch- Just wish I wasn't right. Hang on." Eren was on the floor in a split second. There was rummaging beneath the bed. Another wool throw was tossed up top. Then a second after that, both off-white. He dropped the volume of his voice some. "Prop yourself up with these. It could help everything drain."

Really, all Armin could do was blink at the stack of fabric. He coughed into his bare bicep once and tried to put the shirt back on. The weight in his forearms didn't make the job easy. In the end Eren was the one to set the blankets up, pull the shirt down and guide the smaller back into the bed. It was unnecessary, really, and it should have been demeaning. Humiliating. Once again, Armin was dragging someone down with him because he was so weak. But the gratitude and awe at Eren's actions bubbled up and overflowed. Naturally, there really was no room for anything so dark as shame or loathing. It was a wonder Armin felt depressed, envious and spiteful as a result when he was younger.

It was so much. Even if his partner was brash and reckless, he always gave so much, from sweat and blood to body and life.

The blonde shifted to adjust to the new forty-five degree angle. ". . . Where'd you learn this?"

A chuckle reverberated in the air. It was a comforting sound, like a friendly and freshly poured cup of tea. "Doctor's son, remember? Dad took me on appointments so I could be social. I paid attention instead."

"You're good."

"Not exactly. I've just seen it done a lot. I tried with Mikasa a handful of times, but that's the extent of it, really. Some of this I'm making up, to be honest." He sat on the edge of the bed's middle, took the other's free hand and laced their fingers together- not a perfect fit, but still a welcomed one. The scarred skin of the left hand pressed all kinds of tiny creases in between Armin's fingers. "Is there anything else you need? I could get you a moist rag if you don't think you can sweat the fever out."

Stories of all kinds tend to run with certain assumptions. That the most beautiful creatures, akin to seraphim and angels, lay in religion and lore. That majesty and grace are reserved for gods and kings, that worth is intertwined with aged treasure hoards or that wonder lies only in places that a mere human could not comprehend. But those worlds and this one, where grief and misfortune blind nearly all, this is not entirely true. For the most valuable and astounding gifts are rather close by, are content to know you are alive and well, and ask for little more than your company and happiness.

Armin squeezed the hand in return and smiled. "It's ok. I'm more than ok with this much."

The taller couldn't help but return the expression. His eyes glistened with relief. Eren slid a hand behind the back of his partner's head and leaned in, lips parted-

"Wait."

He froze.

"This is a bad idea- you'll catch it."

The brunette smirked. "It's ok." Balmy breath rolled on the aperture of Armin's mouth. "I've never gotten sick from you. Just let me."

A mind so muddled by heat couldn't have worked fast enough for what came next. Eren closed the space between them, tilting his head just so, and brought himself to Armin with quintessent endearment. The smaller melted. Warmth and comfort bloomed between them, inside each. They were safe; They were home. Eren opened his mouth again and nipped at Armin's lower lip. The next movement was the caress of his tongue across the same place. A breath was released as Armin granted him entrance and the nerves inside glowed. That was the cap in a normal situation: neither breached boundaries beyond that, especially since after that day. But that wasn't a normal situation. Eren released Armin's hands, slid his own beneath the shirt and up the smaller's back, gently pulling him towards him. He sighed, barely loud enough to be a moan, before pressing in just a little bit more. For as hazy as things were, Armin could feel something behind whatever this was. It wasn't dark or beastly. Yes, it was mature and held some substantial force, but it was as much that as it were a humble plea for permission. The contact was broken only to return in a different form. The blonde drank in the breath that had been taken so passionately. Eren buried his forehead into Armin's shoulder, wrapped his arms around him, sat on the heel of his left foot while the right dangled off the bed, and curled as small and as close to his partner as he could.

"I want to try again. I want to give you everything."

The statement didn't register at first. Then Armin's eyes grew wide. With him aged sixteen years and Eren getting closer by the month, surely both were above the age of consent. But the younger always one for hasty decisions. Armin tried to push the other away for a better look. ". . . Eren? You're not serious are you?"

"We nearly lost you, Armin. Please." Eren tightened his grip around Armin's waist. "Once you've recovered. . . I want you to take me. I don't even care who's on what end. I just want us to be as close as possible," His voice finally cracked, "and I never want you to be that far away from me again."

The blizzards of that particular month toiled more violently than in elder years. Dry snow and incisive winds plowed through and sank their teeth into whatever they pleased, living or not. The temperature didn't seem to rise above freezing, so the foundation, if one could call it that, was always soft, powdery, and easy to slide around on. Squad formations could have easily been broken. In fact, they were- it happened when Armin shoved Connie out of the way before. To assume he and Eren would always be in the same squad was wishful thinking. Despite their four-month old arrangement, the two had somehow learned to accept that and have faith in each other, though many a miele apart. This form, these words- they did not preach strength or acceptance.

He doesn't mean physical distance. He means far away from being alive.

"You know," one more deep breath, "You know we can't go back after that point. Are you. . . honestly prepared for that?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then sit up. Say it to my face. . . . You may not be thinking right."

And so he did. He sat up. Both hands went to the other's shoulders. Green eyes held Armin firm. They were fogged, hungry, but resolute. Of course. Eren was many things- a killer, a beast, perhaps a madman. But never let it be said that he was a liar. "Armin, I want this. I want it with you. Only you. And I'm not scared to lay my whole self down before you. Not anymore."

That was the last straw. Armin sat up, fisted the hair in the back of the other's head-

And released him, turning away to deal with another coughing fit. The mood was gone, just like that- Eren still had a sick soldier on his hands, after all. For forty-five seconds Armin hacked into the handkerchief and Eren patted his back. He didn't speak until the other was done. "Um. . . I should probably get you something for that."

". . . Yeah. I'd appreciate it."

So he left the bed and rummaged through the apothecary. "Ah, perfect." He came back with two bottles and a small spoon. The first one had been filled halfway with small white ovals and wore a blue label. A pungent aroma wafted through the air as soon as Eren untwisted the cap and shook two of the tiny pearls into his palm. "Here: Garlic tablets." He handed them to Armin and swiped a skin of water hanging off the bedpost. "They'll help you fight it off. Think you can hold the water down?"

"It's not food. I can manage."

"Good. Drink as much as you can for now."

It wasn't easy. Every mouthful agitated his esophagus as though it were being torn to pieces. Even the weight of it, probably no more than a third of a kilogram, was hard to keep steady. Armin didn't get much farther than half the container, but at least the tablets were the first to go down. Eren took the skin back and fiddled with the second bottle. He spooned out a viscous, amber liquid- honey. Quite a rare thing to see at that time of year. "This is for your throat. Just take this and get some shut-eye. I'll stay with you until that happens."

The blonde accepted the spoon (he had no problem holding it) and swallowed the contents while the other cleaned up and took the bottles back. "Doesn't it normally go the other way around?"

"Maybe. I could care less right now."

With the rolls draping only part of the bed, there really wasn't much room for the two to sleep side by side. It could have been better that way- no need to put something hot next to someone fighting a fever. Eren sated himself with sitting on the bed and leaning against the headboard. He stroked Armin's hair, watched, sometimes smoothing his fingers along his forehead or giving a soft peck. And the blonde would have drifted right then and there if not for one pressing question.

". . . Did you really mean that?"

"Of course. I don't want to hide anymore. Now go to sleep."

"I'm serious. You know you can always say 'no', right? Even to me?"

". . . Yes, I know. But I don't want to. Seriously, go to sleep. And you're going to have to eat something when you wake up next. Understand?"

Armin nodded and finally did as he was told.

He eventually recovered and Eren kept his word. The first time came and went. So did the second. And so did the third, and the fourth, the fifth, and so on. But that's not the important part per se. What was important was that when asked, Eren could definitively say that yes, he loved Armin, that he could kiss and hug the smaller without thinking he was wrong or didn't deserve such a loving boy. And Armin knew that he could ask or talk of anything and provide accordingly without needing to worry about crossing boundaries or putting up lies. It wasn't perfect the whole way, obviously. Sometimes a certain someone thought too much or another certain someone didn't think enough and there were many a can of worms that had best not be opened here.

It could have been a warm harth sometimes and hell on earth other times. But the world on this side was definitely a vibrant one.

-AOT-

There you have it. Thanks again to Roman for editing this and giving it the Ramen Noodle Seal of Approval! This was kind of meant as a sequel to "More Than One World", but I decided to post it now. As stated, it takes place four months after the one previously mentioned. I have other oneshot sequels planned as well, in varying points in time.. Please review and let me know if I should write some more content for these guys, maybe let me know when the next Eremin week will be. Hopefully I'll see you all there. Leave a review and have a good one!

-Magician Irono