She hadn't planned on meeting him here, assuming that because of his frailty and strategic value he wouldn't have been on this mission, that the generals would keep him safe behind the walls. She was wrong. This was not supposed to happen, it was Eren she was after, not Armin, he served no purpose to their cause, no benefit to them by being alive, yet she still lingered, still she moved to where he lay, stunned and shattered on the ground, his blood running down his face, when his eyes met hers she knew that he recognized her, a fact that was confirmed a moment later when he spoke her name.
"Annie..."
Hurt, betrayal, an endless silent plea for answers to the question she had asked herself countless times before, "Why? Why was she doing this? Why didn't she just stop? Why did she pretend to be their friend? Why did she hurt him?
"Why?"
The word hissed from her mouth like steam as she ran, in her hand she cradled Armin, the sweet, innocent boy that had loved her, hesitantly, quietly, shy and gentle, intelligent and truthful. She had returned his honesty with lies, his love with hurt, and pain, and death. Why didn't she kill him now? Why did she wait? Riener and Bertholdt would be here soon, to regroup, to plan, to ask her why the plan failed, and why she had kept the weak little thing in her hand alive.
She had killed thousands, why did she hesitate now?
She made it to the tree line, the scouts had not made it this far in yet, and neither had the titans. She had time, precious seconds and minutes, maybe an hour, to make her peace with what she had to do. To come to terms with the death of Armin at her hand, the death of her only true friend, the murder of an innocent just one more in this endless madness. The world was too cruel for him to live in, she was doing him a mercy really. He would never make it through this, and maybe this way it was better, if a friend ended it instead of an enemy. It would be quick.
Slowing to a stop the female titan lifted her hand up to her chest and opened her palm.
The blond boy lay curled, his head resting half turned away, eyes closed and glistening with blood and drying tears, his breathing was swift, short gasps of pain, his clothing was torn and dirty, ragged and stained, one leg was obviously broken, and from the way his chest dented in on one side, so were a few of his ribs. She looked at him silently, cocking her head this way and that, reaching down she brushed the hair away from his face.
She should do it now, while he slept, before he could even feel it it would be over.
She took a breathe, gathering her will and strength, swallowing her regret and closing her eyes so that she wouldn't see the wreck of the boy she had known when she was finished.
She was a split second away from doing it, when he moved.
It was hardly anything, but the skinless muscle of her palm felt it, she froze, watching with dread as he stirred and finally opened his eyes.