Or: In which Eren and Annie try to solve the rubik's cube that is Armin's Mind

I felt like the plot couldn't really progress without a chapter mostly dedicated to people trying to understand where Armin was coming from, so this chapter is kinda slow, and a chunk of it is Eren recounting chapters 3 and 9, so bear with him-but there is a surprise twist at the end, so READ TO THE END!

JUST...

...DO IT!

(Wow I actually remembered to put line breaks in this chapter XD)

Annie didn't know what the hell was happening.

The only reason he had followed Yeager to Kirschtein's house was because her psychopathic boyfriend could have been going to the police station for all she knew, and she wanted to help Armin get better in any way she could.

Not stand there uselessly as he tore himself apart, screaming for mercy.

"Alright Yeager," Annie said, crossing her arms and hiding her turbulent feelings behind a steely glare. "What is it?"

Eren paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to word his thoughts. "I…I think I've figured out part of his problem."

"So did I," Annie replied dryly, "Then he threatened to kill me the other day."

"Wait a sec—you swore up and down that wasn't him!" Eren accused.

The blonde sighed. "Well he saved me from being mugged and raped," she explained, "but he wanted to kill him so he demanded that I leave."

"Oh…" the brunette thought for a moment. "Well anyway, remember when he said that he kills because he can?"

Annie nodded. "He just doesn't have a conscience. He only cares about himself—"

"And that's there you're wrong," Eren interrupted, "He's not as inhuman as he tries to paint himself to be."

I'm inhuman.

Annie turned away from him to hide the unshed tears in her eyes. "How do you know that?"

She heard Eren exhale. "I still haven't told you how I…how he ended up in my car."

"Oh yeah," she said, turning back around and schooling her expression. "You still need to explain that—unless you're trying to get him patched up before turning him in?"

"No, I…" Eren sighed again. "I first saw him again at Marco's bookstore when getting something for Mikasa, and he almost fell apart in front of me—he kept crying about not putting him in time out or something."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "Now he sounds like a spoiled kid," she commented.

Eren rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I ended up comforting him and we went our separate ways…"

The brunette shuffled awkwardly, not meeting her gaze. "Then I…I recognized the license plate on my stolen car today, and I followed him out to that destroyed part of town that's abandoned by even hoboes now."

It took her a moment, but then she remembered where he was talking about. There had been a fire a few years ago and it had destroyed a portion of Trost—she had actually helped cover the fire for work and wrote about it in Maria Monthly.

"Yeah," she said with a nod, "I'm surprised the cops hadn't checked there first."

Eren shrugged. "Well, we ended up in a parking garage by the old movie theater, and he…I…"

Annie's stomach turned with apprehension. "What, Yeager?" she bit out impatiently.

"I…he went inside," Eren continued, "and…and he began to scream for his 'Aunty' to let him out. I made it over there…and…"

"And…?"

There was a long pause, and Eren shook his head, eyes wide. "He…he had begun to beat his head against one of the concrete pillars. I pulled him away and knocked some sense into him, but I'm pretty sure he would be dead right now if I hadn't saved him then…"

Annie stopped listening.

I thought you were afraid of dying.

…I thought I was too.

"Annie," Eren said, bringing her back to harsh reality. "That's not all."

"I thought you were stupid," Annie muttered, "why couldn't you be stupid?"

Eren stared at her for a moment and sighed. "Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?" he replied, "But—stupid or not—my dad was a doctor…I've just never psychoanalyzed him before now because I thought I hated him."

Annie let out a humorless laugh. "'Thought'?"

"Yeah," Eren said, chuckling to himself. However, as soon as his smile appeared, it vanished into thin air. "But…he was bleeding out in front of me, Annie. He looked so…so…innocent."

Innocent.

That was one word she never would have ever used to describe Armin Arlert.

"Before he passed out from blood loss," Eren continued, "When he was screaming, I panicked and slapped him to knock some sense into him. He stopped screaming, but…"

Trying not to be offended, Annie moved her hand in an impatient rolling gesture.

"He…he began giggling again," Eren finished. "He just wouldn't stop, but shaking him roughly got him back to…his normal self, but he was clawing at his arms again."

It's okay to cry in front of us.

Everything finally started to fall into place. "He's scared of feeling weak," Annie said slowly, "So he kills people 'because he can'…and he won't cry in front of people…"

Eren nodded in agreement, and Annie shook her head. Now that she thought about it, she had only seen him cry once, that day when she visited him in jail—it wasn't even full on crying, but a single, muffled sob. It still counts somewhat, but they had long since gotten close to each other…

"But you said that he cried in front of you," Annie pointed out, "So…"

Eren scratched his head. "He had begun spiraling out of control, but he wasn't gripping his arms—the pain may keep him grounded, but I don't know—he was gripping the broom handle instead, but then he dropped it and almost began screaming like he did at the garage…and just now."

Annie ran a hand through her bangs, not sure how to feel about all of the new information. She had no idea Eren had been able to read the atmosphere in a room, let alone a psychopath's potential thought process and defense mechanisms.

"How did you find all this out?" she asked, meaning to sound demanded but ended up sounding tired instead.

"Just…observation," Eren replied, "I just never gave anyone so much thought as I have Armin—he's…enigmatic, to put it nicely."

Somehow, Annie found it in her to laugh. "I didn't even know you knew such big words."

The two laughed, but stopped when the door swung open.

"Hey," Jean called, "Marco wants to talk."

"Honestly, the worst thing Amelia could have done was leave me with that boy," the man's daughter growled as she sat on the couch with an irritated expression.

"I come back from the old folks' home for this?" the man asked, settling himself down on the old, familiar armchair. "It's a good thing I didn't come until next week like planned. Honestly Amber, did you try to hear the boy's side?"

"It's not my fault that facility is trying to con me into giving them more money" Amber muttered.

"You're avoiding the question."

Amber sighed, but to the man it sounded like a growl. "Why should I listen to him?" she demanded, "he's in the wrong, like always!"

It was the man's turn to sigh. "Amber," he started, "don't tell me you're pushing him too far. That's the reason that your husband left—"

"Don't," Amber warned.

"Amber," her father said sternly, "where is my grandson?"

Amber looked away.

"Amber," the man repeated, standing.

"He's in the closet under the stairs," she relented, "he's to stay there all weekend."

The man felt rage strengthen his bones as he rushed to the closet. His daughter shouted something and followed him.

"Dad!" she yelled, "Leave him…be…"

The door was whittled to pieces, and the lock was all but broken off its hinges. There was blood everywhere, and there was a trail of it leading into the kitchen.

"Good god woman," he said taking in the scene before him, "what have you done to my grandson!?"

He turned on his daughter, who was pale as a ghost. "I…I…"

Suddenly there was giggling, and they both turned towards the kitchen.

"You stay here," he ordered, "I'll go handle him."

"No!"Amber replied, "Dad you'll get hurt!"

"You've done enough damage to my grandson!" the man shouted, "Amelia would be turning in her grave because of you!"

The giggle got even louder, and the fear took away his previously acquired strength. The sound itself was innocent sounding—similar to how he sounded when he was younger. However Amelia's affection with horror movies has taught him that innocent laughter was a very, very bad thing.

"I'm sorry papa," Amber said quietly, "I-I'll try to talk to him."

The man really didn't want Amber near him, but he had to steady himself with the wall and catch his breath, terror reminding him of his old age. Taking the silence as a yes, she stalked inside.

Before the memory could complete itself, something jarred the person awake.

"Mr. Arlert?" the nurse said, "It's time for your medicine."

The old man rubbed his eyes. "Is it?" he asked numbly, "Alright then."

"You also have a visitor," she said, "you'll get to see him after the medication sets in."

"Really?" Mr. Arlert asked, genuinely confused. His grandson wouldn't come visit, so who would? "May I ask who it is?"

The nurse nodded. "It's a…Dr. Smith.