This is part 2 of 2.

Thanks to for pointing out a misspelled name in the earlier chapters. That has now been corrected.

Many a fic has been written about the day (if it ever comes) when Annie's crystal is broken. Most of it, in my opinion, ends up being a little OOC. As much as I love Annie x Armin, it's a little silly for them to be making out just minutes after the last piece of crystal has hit the floor. With this story, I wanted to try and explore a darker, more plausible take on what might happen if the Scouting Legion ever did manage to extract Annie Leonhart from her crystal. It's certain that they'd want to interrogate her, and it's equally certain that her ultimate fate probably wouldn't be too rosy. In addition, now that Annie is not only free of her prison but also free of any need to pretend to be somebody else, I was curious what changes, if any, might happen to her character. I also had a feeling that she'd have to come to terms with a lot of guilt and trauma from her actions.

Then, I threw in Armin. Not just because he's my favorite character, or because this is my favorite pairing, but because he's not only likely to be there if this scenario ever comes to pass, and because his relationship with Annie, in my opinion, will heavily influence what, if anything, she chooses to reveal or do.

I also hope this will illustrate to a degree why putting these two characters together is so dear to many fans. They both have a lot to learn from one another and a lot to gain from any relationship, and given the canonical past as well as the likely future, it really does seem that they're a good match.

Fair warning, this will get a little rough, and if this story does what I hope it will do, there will be MAD feelings by the end. Don't worry, though—I've left in a bit of hope and healing at the end too, so this is hardly a tragedy in any real sense.

III

Annie's new cell was even further belowground than the room they'd kept her crystal in.

Armin had met Annie's guards—two younger Survey Corps soldiers, a man and woman—at the arranged time. As the senior of the two soldiers handed the key to Annie's cell door to the blond scout, she informed him, "I've been ordered to lock the door to the staircase behind you. Knock six times when you come back up. If there's trouble, knock four times slowly." Thinning her mouth at Armin's nod of comprehension, she added, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Thank you," Armin said simply.

The door slammed shut behind him as he made his way down the flight of stone steps, and suddenly his path was illuminated only by the lantern he carried in his right hand. Reaching the foot of the stairs, he found himself in a long hallway with a series of rooms on the right hand side. The hall was barely lit, with only a single lantern on top of a barrel to ward off total darkness. Determining which room was Annie's cell was obvious—a barred cell door had been specially installed in the doorway in question, and the cell walls looked as though they'd been reinforced with a fresh, additional layer of mortar and stones.

Armin suddenly felt a violent desire to be elsewhere—anywhere but this dismal corridor seventy feet underground. Apprehension seized him, and he hesitated where he stood at the end of the hallway. Feeling his heart pound in his chest, he remembered that he didn't have the slightest idea how Annie would react to seeing him. Nor had Armin come with any semblance of a plan for this encounter.

Armin steeled himself with the reminder that Commander Erwin, Levi, Hanji, and the entirety of humanity were counting on him, trusting him to not only face this encounter but leave this dungeon with something, anything, that would give their hopes a reason to burn brighter. Hadn't he learned over the last few months that he could be confident in his abilities, and that others trusted him enough to not only listen to him but risk their lives for his plans and conclusions?

Six months ago, Armin might have fled back up the stairs to bring the guards, Levi, Erwin, or even an entire army with him to help him face this girl, this enemy. Today, however, was today. As he stood there , Armin found himself watching the flame inside his lantern as it flickered again and again, wavering only to straighten and burn more brightly for an instant before waning once more.

A fitting metaphor for bravery.

He walked resolutely, almost mechanically, to the single doorway crisscrossed by iron bars. Placing his lantern to one side, he produced the key he'd been given with his other hand and reached for the lock hanging from the cell door.

A motion caught Armin's eye from the shadows deep within the room. It was accompanied by the sound of shifting lengths of chain. He could distinguish another noise emerging from the darkness, and realized with a start that it was the sound of her breathing. Could she be asleep? No, she had just moved, hadn't she?

"Annie?" he called into the room.

She did not respond. He now heard only total silence.

With a click of protest, the lock finally yielded, popping open. Armin removed it from the door, hanging it upon the bars at chest height. He pulled the heavy door open with one hand as he reached out with the other, grasping and lifting the lantern he'd put aside.

This gave the prisoner her first good look at Armin's face as he stepped into her cell.

"Armin?"

He froze momentarily at the sound of her voice. His own impulse to reply caught in his throat. Instead, he extended the lantern he held towards the center of the room, bathing the walls in its dim glow.

Steam was still rising from Annie's hands—that was the first thing Armin noticed. Her forearms had largely regenerated, but it looked as though the healing process had not yet proceeded beyond her wrists. The second thing he observed was that her arms were free of manacles. Instead, chains were fixed around her ankles, and a large metal ring had been locked around her neck. In the weak light of the lantern, Annie's face appeared gaunt and bony, as though she'd been a prisoner for far longer than a single day. Her hair was still tied in its distinctive bun; she was clearly incapable of untying it, and it seemed that her guards hadn't bothered.

Armin felt a wave of genuine guilt wash over him. Annie might have extinguished dozens of lives in her titan form, but there was no denying that he, Armin, had had a similarly profound impact on hers. He did not regret what he'd done… he just hadn't imagined that things would come to this. Not for a single moment had he ever wanted her to suffer so.

Annie watched his every motion as he walked over to where she was sitting against the back wall. Just as he knelt at her side, however, she looked away.

Now that he was close enough to reach out and touch her, Armin noticed that her eyes were red and heavy with fatigue. Her nose was runny, and streaks on her cheeks marked where tears had streamed down her face. She sat slouched against the cell's stone wall, as though the weight of her iron collar on her shoulders threatened to drag her down. Her half-healed arms were crossed, uniform sleeves torn where Levi's blades had cut through. Her healed skin was clean and unmarked, in stark contrast to the small cuts, bruises, and grime that marked her neck and face.

Finally, Armin found his voice. A lump was growing in his throat, and this time, there was no concealing it.

"I'm sorry about what they did to you. I really am," he breathed. Gripping a fistful of his cloak in one hand, he clumsily tried to wipe her face clean. She recoiled initially at his efforts, then relented just long enough for him to finish before turning her head away from him.

Annie's voice, bitter yet mournful, seemed to fill the small cell.

"I guess we've both been bad people to one another, haven't we?"

"We have," he replied.

Armin swallowed before adding, "I wish it hadn't had to come to that."

Annie's huff of exasperation was so soft it was almost inaudible. "Did you promise your superior officers that you'd be able to make me talk?"

Armin flinched. "I'm not here to make you talk, Annie."

He hadn't realized it until just a moment ago, but it wasn't a lie. As soon as he'd heard that Hanji had discovered a way to break the crystal, he hadn't been primarily interested in what Annie knew or didn't know, or where she came from, or what her goals and those of her fellow agents were. Rather, he'd wanted to come listen to her now that there was no longer any need for secrecy or deception between them. The truth was, Armin had argued and justified himself in Erwin's office for the sole purpose of coming here, alone, to talk with Annie and find out who she really was—not as a soldier, agent, or warrior, but as a human being. The answer to that question, he supposed, would also determine whether Annie could ever be persuaded to change her loyalties. So at the same time, Armin hadn't lied to the Survey Corps either.

Who was this strange girl, then? Did he know her?

Annie huffed again, disbelieving. "Ha. You're hopeless, Armin. Despite everything, you still haven't learned to lie."

"I wasn't lying."

Annie's eyes flashed with distrust at the words, and Armin reflected that he couldn't blame her. Suddenly, Annie turned her head to stare directly into Armin's eyes. "I could still kill you right now, at this moment," she growled.

Armin recoiled involuntarily, a shiver traveling down his side. "Huh?"

"I'm stronger than Eren is," Annie continued. She chose the moment to throw her elbow viciously into Armin's gut, sending him reeling over backwards with a gasp as pain exploded in his midsection. "I've regenerated enough by now. I could transform this instant and you'd be crushed in a second against the walls of this cell, Armin." She aimed a painful, accurate kick at his knee next.

Her words echoed around the dungeon as Armin lay sprawled on the ground, winded and struggling to draw breath.

"Go. Leave me alone," she finished, turning forward to stare at her feet, a scowl written across her features.

Armin coughed as he pushed against the cold, damp floor, struggling back up onto one knee. The stone was hard, he decided, but at least it felt cleaner than he'd expected.

"You won't," he wheezed. "Crush me, I mean."

Annie glared at him before returning her gaze forward. A length of her neck chain fell loose with a metallic clatter at the motion. "Don't get overconfident just because I spared your life once."

Still recovering from Annie's sudden blow, Armin moved back towards the sitting girl. He could see her watching him from the corner of her vision as he crawled neared her. The realization dawned in her eyes that he didn't remotely fear the possibility she might make good on her threat, and she seemed to shift uncomfortably as he drew close. Their shadows merged on the back wall as he stopped, then finally sat down at her side a second time. His knee brushed her side as he said quietly, "See? I knew you wouldn't."

Indeed, Annie made no sudden motion to raise her arm to her mouth or to bite through her tongue with her teeth. Instead, her shoulders shrugged, as though a silent admission of defeat.

They said nothing for what seemed like several minutes. Armin found himself watching Annie's shoulders rise and fall as she breathed regularly. Her gaze was fixed on the lantern sitting in the center of the cell, the thin wisps of smoke escaping from its metal body only to curl and vanish in the air. He watched the tiny flame flickering as twin reflections in her eyes. He knew her current expression of bored indifference well, and as always, he perceived a hint of the true conflict and turmoil underneath it all.

"Annie," he began hesitantly, "why don't you help humanity?"

Her response was a small release of the tense muscles in her face as she raised her brows briefly in surprise, but she said nothing. The reaction lasted only a moment. Her expression, her body language immediately became more defensive again, and she drew her arms closer around herself, the steam from her wounds rising to form a thin, hazy curtain between the two of them.

No matter how hard she tried to conceal it, he could see a raging guilt swimming behind her eyes. It was a testament to the trauma of Armin's own past that he could recognize the familiar marks of grief and loneliness, fear and self-doubt and… homesickness in the lines of her mouth, the posture of her arms. He was intimately familiar with much of what he saw, yet at the same time, Annie's burden of the soul was something altogether different from anything he had ever known. No matter the tragedies that had befallen his two childhood friends, Eren and Mikasa had always clung to a small reserve of remembered happiness. Even at the worst of times, an onlooker could see the telltale signs that these were two children that had once grown up well-loved, products of a deeply caring household. Looking at Annie, Armin could not sense even a single trace—not even a ghost—of a bright memory amid the wasteland of her past. She looked as though she had borne unassisted the full weight of life's reality for as long as she could remember. Amid all the refugee camps, landfills, military hospitals, and bloody battlefields that Armin had ever visited, he had never seen a soul so obviously desolate and alone. Struck, he felt something break inside him, and he abruptly lurched forward and wrapped Annie in a close hug.

She was cold to the touch. Annie flinched, inhaled, recoiled as though she'd been slapped. Her head whipped around, eyes fixed in a glare, and he felt her nose and chin suddenly pressing into his shoulder. Her arms reacted next an instant later, pushing hard against his chest. A muffled noise of shock escaped from her, as if he'd just plunged her into freezing water. When he didn't let go, she let out another small cry and bit him viciously above the collarbone, wriggling furiously to escape his embrace.

"A-a-a-ah," Armin exclaimed in surprise as she sank her teeth into his shoulder. He tensed at the pain, but fought the instinct to pull away from its source. Instead, he held Annie tighter even as he felt drops of warm blood trickle down his skin.

The force of her bite lessened, and for an instant he wasn't sure if she was relaxing her jaw or whether he was simply becoming numbed to the pain. He looked down at her, and suddenly Annie released her teeth. Their eyes met for an instant before Annie turned her cheek and kept it there, avoiding his face determinedly. That moment, however, was enough for Armin to look into her ice-blue eyes and see a terrible weariness, utterly devoid of the life so typical of a youth of their age. Annie's eyes had never been particularly filled with hope, but defeat and sadness now clouded them more than cynicism ever had.

He wondered briefly what she had just seen in his own eyes. Was his own gaze still as stubbornly hopeful as ever, filled with a belief in final victory and his dream of one day seeing the wonders of the outside world? Or, had something died in his own soul, just as the spark of kindness or the fire of a boyish enthusiasm had dimmed behind Christa and Connie's eyes over the span of just a few short weeks? Had his resolve hardened instead? Did he now wear the same permanent mask as Eren, Jean, and Sasha—the defiant yet bitter look of a hunted animal that, finally tired of running, had turned at last to fight and determine if it lived or died?

Armin was still holding Annie close, his arms around her back, his cheek pressed against the dirty hair at her temple. Having ceased to resist his embrace, she seemed to have settled for behaving as though he wasn't there. As the pain in his shoulder dulled to a persistent throb, Armin murmured quietly, "Annie… no matter what… I refuse—I absolutely refuse to believe that you're the cruel person you pretend to be."

Again, she did not reply. Armin's heart cracked anew as he realized that her eyes were filled with tears. When was the last time that somebody had held her like this? When was the last time she'd heard any words of reassurance? He realized that he had no idea where her home might have been, or even if anyone who might have cared for her was still living.

Annie nudged him insistently, and Armin finally unwrapped his arms from around her. She struggled to wipe her face and chin on the back of her arm, and he moved hastily to help her. As he dabbed at her cheeks, his elbow touched her forearm, and he inhaled sharply.

"By Maria, you're cold," Armin exclaimed. How had he failed to notice before? He paused, then reached for his collar to undo the clasp of his Survey Corps cloak. Gently, he pulled it from his back, gathered its folds in his hands, and draped the thick cloth over Annie's body, pulling the cloak up to her shoulders. In the dim orange glow of the lantern, the emblem of the wings of freedom settled over her chest. Looking around, he spotted the thin, crumpled blanket in a corner of the cell and the stuffed drawstring sack that was supposed to be her pillow. In a moment, Armin had draped the blanket over the folds of the cloak covering Annie. He moved next to place the filled sack between her back and the stone wall, and he was somewhat surprised when she obligingly leaned forward to let him. "I'm going to ask them to bring you a set of proper blankets."

When he straightened, Armin noticed that Annie was looking directly at him now, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.

Suddenly seized with worry, Armin asked, "Annie—are they feeding you okay?"

Annie gestured wordlessly with her maimed left arm at the door, and Armin saw to his horror that two plates, a bowl, and two mugs were sitting there untouched.

The sight inspired a fierce anger within him. Had she asked her guards to cover her with the blanket she couldn't reach for? Had they coldly ignored the fact that she couldn't possibly eat while her hands were still missing?

He vowed that he would see to it that her living conditions were improved. He'd make sure they brought a real cot down to her, and that the soldiers assigned to watch over her were told—no, ordered to treat her with respect and care. The memory of his stay at Trost's refugee camp as a boy overwhelmed him, and his own eyes watered as he wondered with frustration how it was possible for fellow humans to look at someone else in need and see them as something less than human…

It didn't matter what she'd done. There were times when even murder might be justified, but how could anyone think it acceptable to subject a helpless person to misery and feel nothing for them?

Annie suddenly spoke, surprising him. "It doesn't matter," she said. She let out a controlled sigh before adding, "Armin… thank you, but I'm as good as dead already…"

"What do you mean?" Armin asked her.

She had stopped crying as suddenly as she had begun. Nevertheless, Annie's damp cheeks still shone as she brought her knees to her chest. The cell rang with the sound of the chains locked to her ankles being dragged across the stone, and Armin realized that she was deliberately drawing attention to her bonds, reminding him of her larger predicament.

"They probably won't even shoot me," she speculated aloud. "They'll have to cut off my head, to make sure I don't survive the execution," her voice harsh. She looked directly at him again, and commented dryly, "I can't imagine any way that this has another ending, no matter what I say or what I do. Can you?"

He had a terrible vision of a blonde head stretched out over a block as a sword hovered, poised.

"It's not too late, Annie..." Armin began. No, he thought, he truly couldn't envision another path that the future might take. He knew she was probably right in the long run, in fact, he was almost certain she was, and the realization made him feel as though he were the one condemned to death. So this was where three years of training and fighting shoulder-to-shoulder would end—with Armin Arlert bearing witness, a thick green cloak hanging from his back, as a fellow trainee was dragged to the center of the place of execution. A part of him did feel deeply angry at what she'd done and angry at himself for feeling anything but a sense of justice at the realization that Annie would answer for her crimes. But there was no silencing the other part of him that wondered at the meaninglessness of it all. Now it was his turn to feel the urge to weep. Annie's eyes widened as she watched him begin to break down, blinking as his eyes begin to water relentlessly.

"It doesn't matter what might happen…" he struggled to say. He reached desperately for her hand beneath the blanket before remembering with another pang that he had to settle for her wrist. "You have to be brave, Annie. You have to try and live, and fight."

"Why should I?" she asked him. She shrugged, and Armin's cloak slipped a few centimeters off her shoulders. Annie's eyes moved to the lantern in the center of her cell again, and she sighed again. "It's a shitty world, one that I never took much pleasure being in…"

The words cut him to the bone as he truly understood the fatigue in Annie's eyes as they gazed blankly at the pinprick of light behind the lamp's glass doors. Something inside Armin, however, rose in rebellion at her statement. He, too, was intimately familiar with the heavy sensation of feeling alone, useless in a world that had dealt him seemingly nothing but poor cards. He'd seen his hometown destroyed, his guardians torn from him, his friends dying cruelly and unnecessarily. He acknowledged that he knew next to nothing about Annie, and that for all he knew his own experiences might well pale in comparison to the nightmares of her unimaginable past, yet he could not bring himself to accept for even a minute that the sentiments behind her words might be justified.

Armin shook his head, adamant in his disagreement. His voice broke as he replied, "The world is cruel… but it is also very beautiful." He smiled faintly. "I know you don't get along with Mikasa, but that's one of her sayings, and she's right."

"We do live in a beautiful world. That day, during our mission beyond the walls, I kept having to remind myself to stay alert, because everything we saw was so wild and breathtaking—even the ruined towns and buildings. It was such a bright, sunny day."

His memories of that day were filled with fear and horror. For many nights afterward, every time that he had dared to shut his eyes, he had fought the images of blood-spattered meadows and dark giants framed against the bright blue sky. He dreamed sometimes that he was back in the forest of tall trees watching as a dozen titans clawed at the bark beneath him, staring up at him with mad eyes and open mouths. He remembered in vivid detail how Squad Leader Ness had died to protect him, how Jean had been just a hair away from the same fate, how he, Jean, and even Reiner might have died horribly without Christa's gift of horses and life.

As he spoke, Armin felt almost as though some outside power was giving him the strength to speak coherently even as it felt like his throat was squeezing shut. He was speaking in spite of himself, in spite of his deepest fears, struggling to convince her not to despair. "Even the fighting was beautiful in a way... You could see all the good in people. Our men were still flew after you to try and stop you even though they were terrified and knew it was suicide... Sometimes, you only saw the smoke signals, and you could only imagine what terrible, brave things were going on underneath…"

He mused, "Even on the day that Shiganshima fell, the sunset we saw from the boat was the most beautiful orange I've ever seen. It's strange, but I dream a lot about those days... and not all the dreams are nightmares." He looked up at her, meeting those tired blue eyes again, and gave her a crooked smile. "You noticed all of it too, didn't you?"

Beneath his touch, Armin could feel Annie's arm warming slowly. The steam from her wrist was condensing as it rose along the bottom of his uniform sleeves, leaving the fabric heavy and damp. His fingers could just feel the beating of her heart as her pulse coursed through her forearm.

He spurred himself onwards, speaking the words that came to him as soon as they materialized in his mind. "I always thought that snow was the most beautiful thing, Annie. You must have played in the snow when you were little, didn't you? It was always our favorite time of the year, for Eren and I, despite the cold. Mikasa though—she loves it when there's a strong wind and she can stand outside and feel it pass around her, like she's standing in a river..."

He was looking at her, and his knees were starting to ache from the contact against the stone floor. Armin's mind, however, was miles away as it traveled back through the past to places hundreds of miles away.

"People are beautiful too, Annie, even if all of us are angry or cruel sometimes when we're not thinking... and love is so very beautiful—even if it doesn't last, or if it hurts us, or if it makes us do stupid things... And for every good thing you see, Annie, you know that somewhere out there are a hundred things like it, just waiting for you to find them. There's so much in this world that I haven't experienced yet—and I never will be able to see it all… But even though I know that there are many terrible things that I've never heard of, there are also countless things that would make me laugh and smile and make me wish that my life would never end..."

Annie's expression had taken on a strange look, at once bitter yet melancholy. Though she appeared to be numbly lost in thought, Armin knew that she was listening, and he squeezed her arm gently. He swallowed. "You know, I've barely ever seen you smile or laugh, Annie…"

Suddenly, Annie interrupted him. Violently. Her voice was loud as she glared at him, shaking him as best as she could with her right arm. "Armin—why can't you see that it's useless? It doesn't matter anymore what this world is, even if I wished it did! It's far too late for me—I can't undo what I've done."

Her movements shook the cloak and blanket fully from her shoulders, and they fell to the level of the unicorn patch of the Military Police on her breast. Behind her bangs, her eyes were wild with hurt as she demanded, "How could anyone let me live after what I've done? I destroyed homes, betrayed humanity, helped the titans invade, killed people and their friends and their loved ones... I watched others die…"

She let her arm fall away from him.

"I deceived everybody I've ever known… and it didn't… it didn't even accomplish anything…"

Her voice trailed off, and her shoulders sagged. She seemed completely exhausted by the sudden outburst.

Armin felt drained as well by her words. His heart was heavy, and he almost felt like he was under a ghost of the catatonic state he'd been in on the day he thought he'd watched Eren be devoured, their hands just finger-lengths apart from touching… He felt as though he was watching another friend die, and once again, he was helpless to intervene…

He stared at Annie, at her red, puffy eyes, at her golden-haired head slumped in resignation, and somehow he found the strength to blurt: "I forgive you, Annie…"

Her head spun, and she glared at him. He saw that, instead of genuine anger, his declaration had instead evoked a mixture of fierce disbelief and hurt.

He straightened, and his entire body shuddered as he slowly added, "And what's more, I'm not the only one who would. Lots of people care about you, Annie—more than you realize."

Gradually, he slid himself across the floor of the cell to sit side-by-side with Annie. The collar of his uniform, stiff with drying blood, stuck to the wound near his neck as he moved. With each push of his arms against the stones, he could feel the dull throb of a developing bruise just below his ribs.

"I care about you, Annie. Bertholt and Reiner care about you too—."At the mention of her fellow titan shifters, Annie jumped slightly, and Armin hurriedly explained, "—we know about them now, yes. They escaped, and I think they're fine. They care a great deal about you though, and they were hurt when they had to leave you behind. When I told Bertholt we were holding you prisoner, he went mad and tried to kill me… you know how he feels about you, don't you?"

He shifted close to Annie until the Survey Corps patch on his shoulder pressed lightly against the Military Police badge she wore.

"They're not the only ones either—Eren was so shocked that day when we found out who you were that he almost couldn't transform to fight you. He couldn't bring himself to accept the truth, even when he'd seen it with his own eyes. You were his friend, and despite how he is, I would bet everything I have that he would still be able to forgive you."

He continued, "Annie, I really think there are countless people in this world that would forgive you. Franz, Hannah, Nack… Thomas and Marco... they may have died to titans, and I'm not saying that it would be simple, but I'm sure they would have found it in their hearts to forgive you one day. Mina… Mina enjoyed being around you, and she always defended you when other trainees would comment on your odd behavior. Mina always described herself as your friend to me… I'm sure she would have understood…"

The lump in Armin's throat had subsided as he'd talked, but it redoubled instantaneously when his mind arrived at what he wanted to say next. He hiccupped, and began, "My grandfather…"

Armin's voice failed him as his eyes welled up and his fingers shook. He could almost feel the touch of that strong, rough hand on his head again as his grandfather placed his beloved straw hat on his grandson's golden hair… He sniffed, helpless as old grief threatened to overwhelm him. As the levee finally broke and tears poured down his face, Armin forced his words out one at a time…

"He never… once raised his voice…"

"—taught me always to be kind…"

"He invited… some kids that used to pick on me…"

Three children sitting at the table. A look of patience on a kind, bearded face. Sincere guilt. Forgiveness. A book returned.

"—us all… potato stew…"

Callused fingers ladling stew into bowls. The familiar aroma of wild onion and garlic. Warm potatoes melting on his tongue.

His throat and his heart both felt as though they were constricting to a finger's width...

"He even... forgave... the government... that sent him to die... I'm…"

City bells tolling on a grey morning. A wrinkled face bravely smiling as a future reunion was promised. Shining eyes that could not support the lie. A goodbye. A gray head streaked with black that did not look back.

With a final bellow, Armin cried out.

"I'm sure that he would have forgiven you too!"

He heard a strangled cry, felt cold arms wrap around him, and suddenly he and Annie were locked in a fierce embrace. Her arms were coiled around his neck while his enveloped her torso, and he could feel her small body shake with her own sobs. They buried themselves in one another, their tears wetting each other's neck and shoulder. They held on to one another as though the world would end if they let go.

OOOOO

"iwanttogohome…" Annie murmured, so quietly that Armin barely heard the words.

They held one another in a small, dark cell of a dungeon seventy feet underground.

OOOOO

Armin's spine and neck were stiff, his leg had fallen asleep, and his shoulder ached where it met the stone wall. He was sure that Annie was in similar discomfort, but still they held each other, neither wanting to be the first to let go.

A part of him reflected on how strange they would look were Annie's guards to stumble across them.

"I'm… I'm so sorry…" Annie said next, once they'd long lost track of time.

"I'm sorry too…" he gasped.

Both of their uniforms were thoroughly damp, now, and Annie was starting to shiver. He could feel goosebumps on her arms. Finally, it was out of concern for her health that Armin loosened his hold in order to pull his cloak and her blanket around her again. As Annie let go of him in turn, he noticed that her limbs were a little closer to fully regenerating—her palms had healed up to where the webbing between thumb and forefinger would be on a healthy set of hands.

Even if the physical wounds can heal, there's no way to erase the pain.

Guilt washed over him once more as he remembered that despite what had just happened between them, they remained captor and captive. He might feel responsible for her well-being and happiness, but his soldier's oath and his loyalty to humanity would demand other responsibilities from him. His convictions bound his actions at least as strongly as Annie's mysterious beliefs compelled her.

Annie seemed distant again as Armin wiped her face and neck dry, fetched her one of the cups of water to drink, and repositioned the cushion behind her back. Her expression however, while still troubled, seemed harder and stronger. "So, are you going to go back to your officers now to tell them you succeeded?" she asked cynically, her voice hoarse. She looked at the rising soldier of the Survey Corps sitting next to her as she said this. Her tone, however, lacked any real malice.

In the lantern's gentle glow, Annie looked profoundly tired, almost lifeless. Yet at the same time, it seemed to Armin that a part of her was somewhat at peace.

Armin shook his head. "I'm going to get you some food, more light, and a real bed."

"Then," he added, "I'm coming right back."