Epilogue
It had been ten years since he had left that God forsaken field and returned from the front. As he settled into civilian life, he did pretty well for himself. Set up a small shop with his friends on the coast. Kept a quaint apartment in downtown. Paid his rent. Kept healthy. A model citizen. And he liked it. He liked living a normal life; away from war, battle and pain. He couldn't escape it entirely though. None of them could ever really escape the memories that came at night.
But he managed it. He painted his thoughts, spun them down as poetry and even tried to sing away his sorrows on an old market guitar. He had put his life as a soldier behind him. But he couldn't bring himself to cut the final strand.
Every year, like clockwork, March 22nd, Armin Artlet would take the long trek to the Academy's graveyard even through the blizzard-like snow. Mikasa used to try and stop him or accompany him at least but now understood that he needed to be alone for this, but at least forced him to put on a coat, scarf and gloves. That Academy's halls were important to their cause. Every dead soldier who was trained in those halls had their names carved into its yard's stones, regardless of circumstance. Unfortunately, that meant that three names had to be carved into stones, even if with hatred and spite.
Reiner Braun
Bertholdt Hoover
Annie Leonhardt.
Placing his fingers onto her name, he ran his gloved fingertips over the stone etchings and could feel the anger in the jagged scratches of the words. He knew that he shouldn't be doing this to himself but he couldn't help it, it was the only thing that got him through the days.
Reaching into his coats meagre pocket, he felt the small gem, no bigger than a penny, that he found on the beach in his palm. After the war, he had found some peace in the ocean. It was something of a comfort in that it offered so much. Huh, he thought, should've joined the navy. Taking the rock out, he knelt forward and rested it on the cold edge of the stone.
Saying the words almost as ritual, he spoke his thoughts
"Happy birthday Annie. I miss you. I miss how we were. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I'm sorry I made you disappear just..." He trailed off "I miss you. I won't forget you. I promise."
One tear. He allowed himself one tear before picking himself and went to brush the lightly fallen snow off of his shoulder until he felt a delicate hand make contact with his shoulder blade. His instinct taking the reins, he swung around, a small pistol `being produced from his wrist mounted mechanism, his grip tightened as he swung and eyes of the Ocean and of Ice met once more, pale hands resting against his cheeks as the snow continued to drift softly downwards.
"I missed you too."