Annie's earliest memory was a happy one. Hell, it was downright flighty. Though if she didn't know any better, she'd swear it was someone else's. She remembered a vibrant spring day in Bavaria, Germany, their little country cottage outside of Munich bustling with activity as her father, unrecognizable compared to the man she knew today, played his violin for a laughing four year old with platinum blonde hair. Her mother, Natasha, sweeped the floor and smiled, catching her daughter as she tripped over her small dancing feet. Annie didn't always have the grace she was known for.

Only a week or two later, in April of 1906, her father frantically and solemnly packed as many of the family's belongings as he could before ushering the three of them onto the boat to New York City. It was such a sudden move, the four year old Annie could only sob and throw a fit as she was pushed on board.

It wouldn't be till years later that she would find out her father's reason was being overdue on several gambling debts, with no means to pay it all back. Of course, she thought, it's exactly like him.

But back then, he was her entire world. Annie idolized the man. In her eyes, Johann Leonhardt was a hardworking, heroic martyr who sacrificed fifteen hours a day, six days a week, working a life threatening factory job in the unfamiliar, unfriendly City of Manhattan. It was okay that they had to exchange their cozy country cottage for a two room tenement in New York's rough Lower East Side. It was okay that she barely got to see him or her mother. It was all to support their little family.

When she did have time with him on Sundays, he would bring out his violin and get her to sing little tunes. They went for walks in the nearby working-class streets, and Annie never felt afraid of the strangers they passed.

Almost to a fault. She fondly remembered getting into a fight with a boy at the age of six, over something as silly as shoving her out of the way to get to an ice cream stand. Though, to be fair, he also poked fun at her slightly accented English. Annie was always exceptionally tough, and by the time her father pulled her off, the boy sustained three lost teeth and a scratch on his face. Annie, on the other hand, was simply left with a dirty dress and mud covered cheeks.

"Your mama won't approve of the mess, but you have some impressive strength, little one." He said, patting her head. "People should be more careful around a Löwenbaby."

The pride in his eyes that day stuck out like nothing else. She would have done anything to see that look again. Yet, in her attempts to do so, she killed herself over it. Sore bleeding feet and an inability to breathe, yet she couldn't earn the smile she so desperately wanted to see.

In the early spring of 1909, she saw the last of the father she idolized. Annie remembered the evening clearer than any other. She knew something was wrong when her parents didn't come back to their little tenement by 10pm. The last thing her seven year old mind expected was that one of them would never come home again.

It wasn't like she didn't understand death. Neighbors caught diseases and past on. Her mother even spent hours telling her about death. Everyone dies, and that's okay, it's part of life. But what she didn't understand was life being taken by someone else's hands. When the policeman sat her down, he spoke to her using the most plain language he could find.

"There was a fire in the garment factory your mother works in." He began, a hand on each of her small shoulders. "Your momma tried to get out with others, but she wasn't able to...She passed on. Sorry, kid."

He didn't even stay a minute after. Annie was left to stand in the middle of the tenement, barely able to process what she heard. She's gone. She passed on.

Where's papa? Annie ran to the dusty window, and watery eyes scanned the crowded market street for any sign of the father she needed in that moment.

Her mind foggy, she stepped back and stumbled onto the floor. The tiny living room felt both too big and far too suffocating. Her legs pulled into her chest, and Annie covered her head with her small hands. Outside, she could hear life on the street go on as normal.

For the first time in her life, Annie felt the smothering hold of isolation and loneliness. A feeling that would go on to become so familiar, she'd learn to live with it.

It wouldn't be till the next afternoon that her father stumbled home, hungover and ragged. He fell onto the small child bed, and met Annie's eyes. There was no comfort in his stare. He looked hopeless. Practically dead himself. Annie stood there motionless, waiting for her father to say something, anything.

"Es ist kalt hier." Was all he muttered, before slowly getting up and walking to the room he and his late wife had shared. Annie's eyes followed his movements until her shut the door. Quickly, the girl trotted towards it, hope filling her heart that maybe, just maybe, in a few moments her hero would come out with blankets to wrap around his little daughter, and hold her for hours as they mourned together.

After two hours of shivering and waiting, she gave up. The chill was becoming unbearable. Annie despised the cold.


January, 1924

The studio lot was buzzing with life and noise the moment Armin walked in at 7:30am. Despite the early wake up call and head pounding amounts of activity around him, nothing could kill his good mood.

Principal filming was beginning that day. He could barely sleep the night before due to excitement, but it was no problem. With a large cup of coffee, and a shot of espresso for good measure, he was ready to take on the day.

For about two hours, he was practically alone on his own set. Other movies filmed around him, but he was sure to be thorough. Every mark and strike was checked out for each room, every costume inspected before his crew started to file on around 9am. Levi, surprisingly, was the first to step in. As if the man didn't already look perpetually tired. Several of his own underlings followed suit, carrying stack upon stack of camera equipment and film cans.

Eren and Mikasa were among them, though Mikasa looked none too pleased about being bossed around by such a short fellow.

However, she volunteered to help Armin at all costs, and the new Mrs. Jaeger wasn't about to break her promise.

It was an odd feeling for Armin to look at all the people filing into their section of the lot, many grown veterans, and realize that he was in charge of it all. Second only to the producer himself, Mr. Erwin Smith, who wasn't even going to be there that day.

"Oy, boss!" He heard someone yell from the top rafters of his bedroom set. "Do you want the lights hanging or off to the side today?"

"Off to the side!" He beamed, directing the placement with his hand. "If you can, attach a reflector near the headboard of the bed?"

The man complied, and Armin felt himself standing tall, hands on his hips as his busy set filled him with pride.

When the noise in that area started to swell, he gleefully grabbed the large megaphone in order to shout his orders. With his flat cap laying lopsided on his head, and army boots that made him look at least two inches taller, he started to feel the confidence needed for the Hollywood director he wanted to be.

It wasn't until 10:30 that his lead actors arrived, with no need for extras that day. Christa filed into her dressing room quickly, followed by Ymir, with her costumes hanging over her shoulder.

Armin could only guess that it wasn't just going to be changing between the women in that dressing room. Some hard working costumer he had under his belt. With a snicker, he shrugged it off, and was greeted by a smiling, eager looking Jean.

"You know Arlert, you don't have to thank me for pulling all those strings months ago." He teased, taking Armin's hand with a firm shake. "You're the boss here, so I guess I should be thanking you, ya fish."

"For what? Not firing you, despite your lousy performance?" Armin snickered, and just barely swatted Jean's hand away as it went to muss up his hair.

"Heh, honestly though, you've been doing great, kid." Jean smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he walked passed. "I'm a little scared to see Director Arlert come out in full force- AGH"

Screeching strings from an out-of-tune violin blasted in their ears as their two musicians got into place. Jean quickly took that as his cue to scoot, the irritated glower on his face softened only slightly when he nodded a momentary goodbye.

Armin almost forgot just how scary Jean's face could get. Like a Brooklyn thug. He'd make sure to use it to his advantage on screen.

His attention, however, was on the little tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw the pristine smile and pale blue eyes of Annie Leonhardt.

He almost felt ridiculous for how much he'd missed her that morning. After all, they'd spent the night together consistently since coming back to L.A. Armin could see the exhaustion in her eyes, and a twinge of guilt hit him when he realized what, or rather who, had kept her up the night before.

"Morning, bearcat-"

Annie placed a finger on his lips, and peaked behind his shoulder.

"I'm stealing you for a second."

She grabbed his hand, and Armin was more than happy to follow her anywhere. At the moment, it was just her dressing room. Annie closed the door tight behind them (as if someone would ever walk into an actress's changing room without knocking,) and turned her back to him.

"Mind unbuttoning my frock for me?" She asked, and Armin was embarrassingly eager to comply.

"Is this what you needed me for?" He teased, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. The little jolt she gave in response brought a smile to his face. As did the fresh hickeys on her shoulders. "I-I am a bit busy today, Ms. Hart."

"'Ms. Hart,' he says. What kind of diva do you take me for?" Annie was relishing in his presence. Her skin felt warm to the touch, Armin noticed the moment his finger traced her back. When he was done with the buttons, he helped her slide the dress down her body until only her step-in was left. Before he could give her any space to change, Armin felt her body against his.

Busy schedule or not, he wasn't going to complain. He wrapped his arms around her, tight, and rested his chin against the top of her head as they slowly swayed back and forth.

Annie, marry me.

His cheeks grew crimson at the memory. Luckily, he was able to fight back his groan. It'd been weeks since he accidentally let those words fly out of his mouth, but it still made his stomach churn. And even if he did see it coming and understood why, hearing her say no?

That stung just as hard.

He was always quick to push that feeling back. It's not fair to her, you idiot.

As he let out a content sigh, he could hear Annie humming against his chest.

"You're always so warm," She said, a soft smile pulling at her lips as she looked up at him. "I don't get how you can stand it."

He snickered, kissing her nose before she pushed off of him to get dressed.

She slipping into her pale pink nightgown, the costume she wore for the majority of the final third of the film. Armin tied the back draw strings, and could barely contain his smile.

The only thing that could possibly make her more adorable to him in that moment was the curly blonde wig. However, that had to wait till after she was done with her makeup.

"Are we doing close-ups today?" She asked, lifted up her eyelid as she began applying her heavy screen makeup. Armin nodded, and moved closer to her. He found himself fascinated with the process, how the colors applied to the face reflected the lights. He was lucky Levi was as skilled a cameraman as he was, and he knew it.

"Hit them with the wrong light at the wrong angle, and even a newborn baby will show up looking like an old hag, kid." He remembered Levi mumbling as he puffed his pipe to life, somewhat reluctant to even be sitting with Armin during one of their breaks. "If an actor ever pissed me off, my footing might just slip during a shoot."

Armin was only briefly lost in his own thoughts, as Annie's soft hand against his brought him back to reality.

"Have you been reading the papers recently, Armin?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "A bit. Should I be?"

"If you want to stay up on the big gossip, maybe." Her demeanor was unchanged, but something in her voice made him curious. Perhaps it was the question, as she herself usually didn't care about such things. "Hearst's people have really been looking for a new scandal since Hay's came to town and Arbuckle was acquitted. I guess Bill Taylor's murder wasn't enough for them. Went cold too fast..." She applied her face powder with relative composure, in contrast to the slight but apparent urgency in her usual monotone. Anyone who wasn't Armin Arlert could easily miss such a thing. "Lesser papers and magazines are kissing ass, racing to see who can find the next headline...Even Dok's starting to slime up the place. Old Nile and his little puppy dog Marlowe. By far, they ask my least favorite questions during interviews." She stopped briefly only to apply her lipstick.

For a moment, Armin could only stare at her, head resting against his palm as he sat in the chair he pulled up next to her vanity. Why bring it up?

Of course he knew the answer. There wasn't a time he'd known her that Annie wasn't deeply afraid of scandal. Though she'd never quite been so open, in her own way, about it.

He was shocked she hadn't changed the subject yet.

"Did he...did you speak with your father recently, Annie?"

Though the pause that followed only lasted a few seconds, Armin still found it jarring. Of course that would be the question she avoids.

"Dok's got it in good with Paramount," She spoke up again, as she began to apply a layer of eye and brow makeup. "They're not too happy with me right now, you know."

"I know…" He grabbed her free hand, giving it a comforting, light squeeze. "You must really love me if you're still on this project."

"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean, boy scout?"

"I mean, it is risky. I'm an absolute liability."

"Armin…" She laced her fingers with his, looking at him with knit brows. Armin chuckled in response, and kissed her cheek.

"I can't promise you this will all go well, but you know? I'm really trying my best to go for complexity over exploitation with this premise." He smiled soft but bright, and Annie turned her gaze back to the mirror. "Hacking Jean with an axe may cause a few eyebrows to raise, I won't kid, but you know that well enough. You're anxious, but you're sticking around anyway. Even after your father voiced his, uhm, disapproval. I'm rambling, but, what I want to say is that you shouldn't let fear hold you back. And I'm certainly honored that around me, you're able to get passed it."

She was silent. Underneath all the white face powder, however, he could see the faintest of blushes. As she started to apply the thick rouge, he wondered if it was more as an attempt to cover herself up.

He brought her free hand to his lips, pressing kisses to each finger. "Now, Annie Leonhardt, will you allow me to get back to work?"

Finally, he caught the little smile he'd been hoping for. Annie turned to him, eyes meeting his as she leaned in to steal one last kiss before work had to be done.

"Fine. Leave me. I have to do my hair anyhow." Annie nudged her nose against Armin's, chest growing warm at the boyish excitement on his face. "Though, you're right about one thing. I admit, I love you more than I should."

His smile grew cheeky, before stealing a kiss on the nose. "I know."


The instruments were thankfully in tune by the time Armin called for places.

Annie sat at the edge of the large, canopied bed, leaning against the posts as the familiar clicks of the camera could be heard underneath the serene music of a cellist's solo.

Bach's cello suite was always a favorite of hers when it came time to film. It made it easier for her to slip into the role of an more innocent young woman. The atmosphere on set during filming was so completely different than it was during pre-production. Armin sat forward in his seat, a focused look on his face as his megaphone rested on his knee. The sound of saws and hammer, shouts and sewing machines, were all far away. Quite literally, as they were thankfully muffled that evening.

With the music, and rhythmic clicking of the camera as Levi cranked away, Annie felt like she could just as easily be lulled into a well needed nap.

"Levi, if you could just get a little closer to her- that's perfect. Alright, Annie, follow my finger with your eyes please. I'd like you to crease your brow just a little more." Armin's voice was stern, yet still so soft. "You just woke up alone, your sister nowhere to be seen in this mansion you two are only just barely familiar with. Then you hear a knocking. Though not at the door." Annie brought a hand to her mouth, running her fingers down her lip and to her chin. With subtle movements, she turned her head and widened her eyes. Anxiety was always best conveyed through the eyes, she'd learned long ago.

Armin called for a cut, only to reposition the camera and a few lights.

"Play Danse Macarbe for me." Annie asked of the little quartet, before she put herself back in position and waited for Armin to yell "Action!"

The camera rolled again, and Annie frantically moved from her spot on the bed to the wall, as instructed. She pressed her ear up against the wall, moving her body and walking along with the noises her character heard.

Confusion struck her face when, as Armin said, the noises stopped. Only to come back louder more menacing.

"Push off, back up into the bed before you even think of moving back there."

His voice was almost down to a whisper. One hand went into the mess of a wig her character called hair, grasped at locks of golden curls as she calmed herself down.

The camera angle was shifted once again. Armin instructed her to crouch as she walked back up to the wall, and pressed her ear and body against the spot where the imaginary pounding originated.

"Don't be too slow, but do take your time. Now you're at the door to the hallway. Go to turn the knob, but it won't open. The door is locked, somehow from the outside."

Eyes wide and brows furrowed, Annie shook the door knob with increasing urgency.

"Eren, make sure Christa's in place? Without getting in the way of the shot!"

The other man did as he was asked, and Annie made sure not to break character.

Though out of the corner of her eye she saw something that almost did. There was nothing unusual about a picture's producer making an unexpected visit. And Erwin Smith had a penchant for being particularly unpredictable. He stood toward the back after quietly stopping in, prosthetic arm in place and covered up as to draw no attention. As if one could pay attention to that when he walked around in his old uniform from the Great War.

No, what Annie found unusual was the presence of two other men at his side. Men she unfortunately recognized, and who were already on her mind. Nile Doc spoke to Erwin with furrowed brows and crossed arms, while Marlowe stood there in awe at the sets and scenes going on around him.

Her stomach sank. I don't need this.

"Annie?" Armin's voice broke through, giving her a slight jump. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Sorry." She took a deep breath, getting back into position as Armin yelled "Camera!"

"Action!"

Just as they had rehearsed and Armin instructed, Annie began to bang her fists against the door. When no one answered back, her face contorted into panic and fear.

"WAAGHHHHHHHHH-" She started again, this time adding in a scream that no one, not even Armin expected.

Movies, he learned, though silent to the audience, were in no way silent to the cast and crew. Despite the look Levi gave him, he decided not to cut, and motioned for him to continue cranking.

It looked more natural. In fact, he smiled wide as she let out another cry for help.

Unknown to him, it was barely acting. As she pounded her fists against the door and let out wails of "help me!" and panicked screams, it felt downright therapeutic.

Against the door she saw the face of a familiar police officer. One she hadn't seen since she was a child. One she barely even recognized as the man from that fateful day in 1909.

And, she saw her father. The twisted, stressed part of her mind made her feel like a child again, throwing a temper tantrum against the anything causing her grief at a time where she didn't have much peace to begin with.

She would have probably started laughing if it weren't for Armin's voice breaking in, yelling for Christa to open the door.

"Annie, you're relieved! It's your sister, and she's okay!" As she came back down to Earth, Annie was fully back in character and grabbed Christa by the shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug.

"Are you alright, darling?" Christa asked, and it took her a moment to realize that she was saying it as her character's younger sister, Anna. And she was the older sister, Mary.

She nodded her head, burying her face in her sister's shoulder before Armin yelled cut.

"Annie, that was wonderful!" He hopped up onto the set, placing a hand on each shoulder and smiling. If there were less people around, he would have pulled her in for a kiss right there. "Who knew you had those lungs?"

Despite it all, a little smile tugged at her lips.

"And how! We thought someone was getting killed there for a moment."

And the smile was promptly gone.

Armin snapped around, and the nerves clearly crept up on him as Erwin and his guests walked up to the set.

"Afternoon, sir." He said, straightening up his back and sticking out his hand to shake. Smith gave him a curt smile and a nod, before motioning to his friends.

"Mr. Arlert, you've met Nile and Marlowe."

"I believe we spoke a bit on Halloween!" Armin stretched a hand out for the other men, plastering on a smile. They each took a firm shake, Nile's grip left his hand a little numb. "I, uh, hope you don't mind me asking but, uhm, what brings you here today?"

Annie made a point of standing behind Armin, eyes downcast and unwilling to look up. Their connections to Paramount would surely come up.

"Well, my journalist friends over here have been selected by the papers to run a spread on the making of a film and the workings of the studio lot. The first major studio they asked turned them down, but were kind enough to point in our direction." Erwin's professionalism knew no bounds, but the intrusive feelings were there. "You have the most star power in your picture, and we're taking advantage of it."

"Is...is that so?" A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. Armin cocked an eyebrow, and couldn't help but wonder why they would be interested in any of the goings on of Maria Rose.

Though he had a fair idea. The paper's first pick had to be Paramount.

They currently had one of their bigger money makers of the past couple of years, after all. If it was somehow payback for Annie skipping out on her contract there, he wasn't about to let them so easily get to her.

"You should feel honored, Mr. Arlert." Nile tapped his foot, growing impatient with the directors tacit body language. "You're getting a political endorsement here too, ya know."

"I...what?"

At this, even Erwin became noticeably uncomfortable.

"That's right. Senator Reiss is likely to pay a visit for a day."

Out of the corner of his eye, he was shocked to see Christa, of all people, go completely rigid.


A/N:

Erwin let Armin borrow the boots. They're far too big on him, but he made sure no one noticed.
I hope you guys had a good winter break, and I hope whatever temperature it is where you are, you're powering through! I'm in NY, so I'm freezing my ass off unfortunately.
Feedback is greatly encouraged! I'm not on my hands and knees, I swear. (I absolutely am.)

Historical and Slang notes:
Löwenbaby- Lion cub
Es ist kalt hier.- It's cold in here
Bearcat- hot-blooded or fiery girl
Hearst- William Randolph Hearst, American newspaper publisher and magnate who built the nation's largest newspaper chain and whose methods profoundly influenced American journalism. Also had a very long-term affair with actress and comedienne Marion Davies.
Hay's- William H. Hay's, President of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, namesake of the Hays Code for censorship of American films, and senator who, after the scandals of the early 1920s, was seen as saving the movie industry after said scandals had "tarnished" its name in the eyes of middle America.
Arbuckle- Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, I'm not being mean that was seriously his stage name, was one of the most famous and beloved comedians of silent film in the 1910s, and was even responsible for bringing Buster Keaton into the spotlight. Unfortunately. during a labor day party he hosted in 1921, a young starlet named Virginia Rappe died, and Arbuckle was blamed. It's absolutely certain he had nothing to do with it, but the papers saw a money making headline, and he was charged with her death. After three sensational trials, he was acquitted and exonerated, however his reputation was ruined and he was blacklisted. This incident practically single handedly brought about the Hay's Code.
Bill Taylor- Respected silent film director William Desmond Taylor, who was murdered in his Hollywood home in 1922. The case was never solved. If you'd like to learn more about this case, I'd recommend the books "A Cast of Killers" by Sidney Kirkpatrick and "Tinseltown" by William J Mann, the latter of which I'm currently in the middle of!