Notes: So here's the English Translation. Keeping the "German flair" as best as possible, including the German spelling of Annie's last name as Leonhard. There'll probably be 4 parts. Thanks to Alicia (Arkevil) for looking over this for me.
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Shadows of Dreams
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.: 01b :.
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We were young and naïve and thought we could achieve anything.
The struggle against the Titans was a breeze. We had worked hard enough for it. We were ready to take on all of them. We would show it to them alright.
Or so we thought.
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The pain in my leg is unbearable. I would describe it as being hellish, if I hadn't just come straight from hell. The gash below my knee, where this morning my leg still continued with my calf, is nothing compared to the horrible images that have been burned into my brain forever.
They say I am the only survivor of my squad. They say I'm lucky to still be alive. They say someone found me and took care of my injury. They say I almost bled to death. I only cry in pain until the morphine takes effect.
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In my head, everything is floating. I don't know if I'm awake or dreaming. Terrible memories mingle with gruesome fantasy images. It's like I'm living through it all over again – only much worse. Blood and long rows of bared teeth everywhere. And a sea of bodies. The faces of my comrades distorted in fear and pain.
Tomas, Mina... Armin. I wasn't able to save any of them. I couldn't even save myself. Why? Didn't we prepare ourselves for this fight for three years? What was all the hard training for, when in the end we fell victim to the cruelty of the Titans anyway?
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Cool hands on my skin that is glowing from fever. Delicate fingers stroking gently across my forehead and my hairline. Lips caressing my temple. I must be dreaming. Maybe the memory of my mother is haunting me. This world has no such affection left for me. Not anymore.
"You hot-headed idiot."
The voice is a whisper in my ear. I know it, and yet it's different. This tone – so raspy and soft with the hint of a smile – is unlike anything I've ever heard it adapt to speak. I am unable to assign a face to the voice.
"Did you plunge headlong into the fight again?"
Warm breath caressing my ear. Two fingers drawing lines on the skin of my temple. I fight against the inertia of my eyelids. I need to see who it is. But at the same time I'm afraid it's just a dream that disappears as soon as I open my eyes.
I'm doing it anyway.
First, everything is blurry. A shadowy, dark outline against bright light. It's becoming clearer. Blond hair falling into her face. Blue eyes looking at me through tousled tresses.
"Annie?"
I blink. What is she doing here? What is she doing?
Her hand's still stroking over my sweaty face, through my tangled hair.
It must be a dream. I don't know Annie Leonard like this. If she's known for one thing – besides her constant lack of interest in just about everything around her – it's her callous roughness. I often experienced it first hand during our combat training.
"Looks like our training time is clearly over."
What she says makes no sense to me. What she does even less so. A thumb stroking the bottom of my lips. Morphine is numbing my body still. I can barely think straight.
Next, she's pressing her mouth against mine. She's moving her lips rhythmically on mine and I don't know what is happening to me. I can now feel her hands on my chest and how they're slowly wandering deeper.
Befuddled as I am, I can't think of much I could do, how I could respond to her. Closing my eyes seems to be a good idea for now. So I do exactly that. And already I can feel her a lot better: her lips on my mouth, her hands sliding over my shirt.
Somehow my lips begin to join in with the strange dance of hers, to adapt to the rhythm of their movements. I can't think much about it anyway, I'm too dazed. So I act instinctively, execute repeatedly the same motion with my mouth until her lips retreat from my reach.
My eyelids are so heavy, I don't think I'll be able to open my eyes again anytime soon. But her face is still very close. I can feel her warm breath on my skin. There's no reddish glow penetrating my closed eyelids, probably because her head is blocking the light.
"Farewell, Eren."
Again she's stroking gently over my forehead. Then she puts her lips once more on mine, a tender kiss. The last thing I'll ever see of Annie Leonard, or rather the last thing I'll ever feel of her.
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When I open my eyes the next time she's long gone. My injured leg painfully laments the loss of its lower half and I moan in agony. Again, someone is there to save me from my suffering – temporarily at least.
I sink back into the surreal world of morphine, pain-free but packed with nightmarish visions and images.
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Armin.
Didn't we want to see the sea together?
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We were young and naïve and thought we could achieve anything. But fate played a cruel trick on us.
We didn't live – didn't even know what that really means – before most of us cruelly got caught off guard.
Dead or crippled – I don't know which is worse.
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I will never again use the three-dimensional manoeuver gear. A wooden leg is not enough for military service – no matter which branch we're talking about. And so my plans are nullified.
I guess I can now become old and grey. Bitter, I already am.
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The sea is nothing more than a pipe dream, the world outside the walls a fixed idea that I have to put out of my head.
Although Mikasa constantly reassures me that it isn't so – and probably she's right, because the fact that she's breathing and still at my side should be proof enough – to me it feels as if there's nothing left me for me.
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I have still one wish.
I want to feel Annie Leonard's lips on mine.
Only once more.
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