Trost was loud.

There were no isolated areas tucked away where trees and water features absorbed the sounds of creaking wagon wheels and hoofbeats. Voices called out to each other as a ferry approached shore; a dog barked around a corner when someone with an unfamiliar scent crossed their path. These noises tumbled over one another in a struggle for dominance. They echoed through the streets even when the sky was still mostly dark save for a weak blue hue touching the horizon. Come sunrise, the district would be at a full roar.

Marco's ragged breathing joined the chorus. It didn't drown out everything, but the gasps and coughs did enough to help him believe for just a moment, he was somewhere else. He only needed to focus on the heartbeat pounding in his ears to be transported away.

Instead of running uphill past closed shops and broken crates, Marco could imagine being in a park where grass rustled and fog curled about his ankles. He could smell morning dew if he tried hard enough. If he tried even harder – there was a figure beside him. The figure's reflection ran alongside his own in the crystal-clear lake at their side. Marco didn't have to turn his head to know the figure had wide, blue eyes the same color of the lake.

'I was told to give this to you.'

A window pane shuddered when Marco slammed his palm against the glass. He panted, his body fighting to fill his lungs with air as his throat began to tighten. He raised a hand to place his fingers over the breast pocket of his loose, green shirt. The outline of a ring could be felt through the cloth, pressing against his fingertips with every beat of his heart.

"I'm sorry," Celine had said, seating herself across the table from Marco. They'd been in their father's dining room three days prior for breakfast; the plates of bread and stewed porridge which had been set before them had gone untouched.

Fingers wrapped in bandages had accompanied a hand being offered. In the center of Celine's palm had been a silver ring. The object was initially ignored over Marco's concern for his sister's health. His sentiments had been dismissed with a passing smile.

"This is my own fault," Celine had said. "I was careless in handling it. The more important thing was that I was asked to deliver this to you. I only heard it second-hand, but it sounded like Annie wanted you to have it."

Celine had remained still as stone while Marco had stared at the ring. He had slowly reached out, taking the item from her palm and noting the object was heavier than it seemed.

"I think she wanted you to have it … because she loved you," Celine had said. Her lip had quivered, Celine having trouble meeting Marco's stunned expression.

"The last thing she said to me … was that she was going to tell you how she felt," Celine had continued. "I don't know why it didn't happen, but I don't believe it had to do with a sudden change of heart. I'm sorry if hearing this right now hurts … Of course it does, doesn't it? I just … feel like I'd be letting her down somehow if I kept her feelings for you to myself. I'm sorry."

Annie never held back her opinions for politeness' sake. She would hold her head high; taking in every detail around her in remarkable detail.

Annie was strong, fearless, and clever. The concept of an ideal soldier immediately made her image come to mind.

Seeing Annie smile had felt like receiving a gift. Her familiar, unbothered expression would melt away despite herself in the form of a small smirk. Each smile seemed to grow a little wider the longer she and Marco had been acquainted. The last night Marco had spoken to Annie, she'd taken his hand and beamed at him as if nothing else made her happier.

"I didn't deserve that," Marco said, voice soft. "You have so much to give, Annie … I'm not good enough."

Marco crouched, shifting his weight until he sat with his back resting against the building at his side. He leaned his head against the cool stone. He'd caught his breath, but his chest still felt like it was going to break apart.

"I wanted everyone to see it," Marco said. He roughly wiped away the sweat stinging his eyes. "I wanted everyone to see who you really were when you weren't pretending. You're funny … and kindhearted. And you could push yourself forward even through a lot of pain. I don't want to be afraid no one is going to remember you that way … no one else but me."

"A-Ah …"

Marco's head snapped up. The person a few feet away flinched from the startled reaction.

"Sorry," Armin said, holding up his palms.

Armin's hair being pulled back to the nape of his neck indicated he was also on a morning jog. He was dressed in casual clothing as Marco was, albeit missing the trail of sweat lining the front of his shirt.

"Sorry, Marco," Armin said. His mouth drew into a thin line as he shifted his weight. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop … I just came looking for you. And I … heard a little of what you were saying."

Armin dropped his gaze. A weak smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Annie was a good person. She only hurt us when she felt like she didn't have a choice. And when she did have a choice … Annie decided to protect us. So please don't think no one else will remember her in a positive light. I will always consider Annie to be a friend."

The tension in Marco's shoulders relaxed. He nodded when Armin raised his head. "Thank you, Armin. I think Annie will … would've appreciated that."

Armin stepped forward. He lowered himself to the cobblestone beside Marco, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Is it alright if I sit with you here for a while? This street will get busy soon, but for now it's sort of nice."

"I guess it is," Marco said, regarding Armin with a warm expression. He looked up to take in the stars dimming as the sun continued to rise. "It's not so bad … here."

Foot traffic steadily increased as the minutes ticked by. The two young men were all but ignored as vendors entered their shops and the night laborers trudged home. It wasn't until nearly an hour had passed did the owner of whatever shop was at their backs shoot them suspicious glances as she unlocked the door and began lighting the lamps.

"I'm meeting Jean for breakfast," Marco said. He got to his feet, offering Armin his hand. "You should join us if you aren't busy."

Armin accepted the offered hand. "I'd like that; I've been spending breakfast alone a lot, lately. Eren still isn't talking to anyone, and Mikasa refuses to leave HQ without him."

"I … see," Marco said, not knowing what else to say on the subject. He pushed aside the twisting feeling in his chest. "Let's go. And thanks for sitting with me."

"I really didn't do anything," Armin said as they began to walk. A shadow passed over his features. "I feel like that's how it's been for a while. I don't really do much to help; I'm just lucky to still be alive. I'm only here because of people like Eren and Annie keeping me safe."

"Don't talk like that," Marco said. "You're a skilled soldier, Armin. Jean told me about what happened on the way to Calaneth. You were given a direct order to kill Conny, and you came up with a plan to capture him, instead."

"But it didn't matter."

Armin's voice shook. "Jean told you about that too, right? I should've just listened to the captain. Conny's still … Conny's still gone."

'He wanted to die.'

Marco didn't like to dwell on the memory attached to those words. The hollowness which had consumed Jean's voice had also reached his eyes. Seeing Jean so empty had felt so foreign it was almost like Marco had been conversing with a stranger.

"You tried, Armin," Marco said. "No one would have predicted what Conny did. I don't think anyone thought it was possible. And what followed with the captain …"

"Then I should've thought of something else," Armin said. His hand tightened into a fist as his voice broke. "Everything was just so jumbled. The captain came back with Eren and Reiner, and I didn't even think to ask about what happened to Annie. We'd finally been able to get Conny restrained, and Jean started screaming at the captain to put Reiner within his reach. And Captain Levi just … did. It made no sense at the time; I ignored that part because I was grateful. Looking back … I think it was because he wanted to make Reiner suffer for killing Annie."

A line formed between Marco's brows. "Are you sure? I thought Captain Levi hated her."

"I did, too," Armin said. "But I read his report of the incident – when he and Annie fought together to take Reiner down. I've read a lot of the captain's reports by now, Marco. That one, though … That was the only report which made me feel like he let something slip through. It was … sad."

Marco's eyes grew wide. "I couldn't … I didn't read it. It was really that way?"

"Maybe he felt guilty about distrusting Annie before," Armin said. "I remember what he said when he tossed Reiner before Conny. Reiner's arms and legs were … gone … and there was a lot of blood. And Reiner was screaming for us to help him, and the captain only said:

"Annie Leonheart was eaten alive with a smile; be a true soldier and follow her example."

Marco grimaced. "That's horrible."

Armin paused before he continued. "I … agreed with the captain. Seeing Reiner being sacrificed while I stood by and let it happen made me feel disgusted. I wanted Conny to eat Reiner as soon as possible to make that terrible feeling go away."

Armin wouldn't meet Marco's gaze. He kept his eyes forward as his lip trembled. "And then … Conny knew him. That look he had in his eyes was exactly the same as how Conny had looked at Reiner when Stohess was attacked. And when his fist came down we were all certain he was going to eat Reiner … then his fist came down again. And again. The captain had to swing in and grab Reiner before Conny could kill him and make us lose the power of the Armored Titan entrily. And then Conny started yelling. His voice was so different … He was still Conny, though. He was still inside that thing. And over and over he just said one word."

'Monster!'

Jean had already relayed this story to Marco. It had taken much longer than Armin's retelling due to Jean's breakdown into gasping sobs.

"Monster," Armin said. "Conny had been turned into a Titan … yet Reiner was the monster."

Marco looked away. "Then the captain killed Conny."

Armin nodded. "I don't think Conny would've wanted us to keep him that way."

"There may've been another solution," Marco said, an edge growing to his voice. "Conny didn't have to–"

"He had to die, Marco," Armin said. He sounded calm over the fact. A smile tinted with melancholy met Marco's hurt expression. "I think Conny was telling us in his own way that's what he wanted."

'I'm sick of this shit.'

Watching Jean crumble before his eyes had been an alarming experience for Marco. Every day since Conny and Annie died, Jean had come to Marco's home to check up on him. Every day he was more worn down. Every day, he was less.

"Dammit," Jean had said. Tears had run down his cheeks the morning of his fourth visit. Jean had fought to wipe them away in a rough manner as if they were made of acid.

"I'm sick of this shit. I'm so damn sick of it! I was never gonna forgive Annie, but that doesn't mean I thought she should die. And what the hell did Conny do? I shouldn't have … I was the one who told him it would be fine if he left active duty for a while. He was so shaken up over Sasha … Ah, fuck. I don't even think about Sasha all that much with everything else. I'm a piece a shit. She was one of us, but … Dammit … Sorry, Marco. I'm just … I'm just tired."

"People can be wrong," Marco said, the memory fading away. He looked to the side to meet Armin's gaze. They were rounding the corner into the neighborhood of his father's home. Marco already knew Jean would be waiting for him on the doorstep, as always.

"If people can be wrong, so can Titans," Marco continued. "Even if that's what Conny wanted at the time … maybe he wasn't thinking about what his death would mean to the people around him. Maybe he didn't think that we still considered him to be like family, no matter how things changed."

"And maybe he considered living the life of the Armored Titan and chose against it," Armin said. He'd spoken in opposition to Marco's theory, but there was no malice behind the words. "I don't know if I'd choose a life like that if I had the choice. I have a feeling I'd have a hard time processing it. Eren, Ymir, and Annie … I would watch them during drills and notice it was like a barrier had been set up between them and the rest of us. They're not entirely weapons, but they're not entirely regular soldiers, either. Their lives are being lived in a state of limbo we can't fully imagine."

Marco lifted his hand. He pulled the metal ring from his pocket, admiring the gleam of the silver in the sunlight.

"Conny didn't stop being Conny," Marco said, his voice growing soft. He returned the ring to his pocket in a gentle fashion. "Eren is still Eren, and Annie is … was … still Annie. There isn't anything that changes that."

A shift in Armin's features caused Marco's stomach to churn.

"That isn't … quite right, Marco," Armin said, speaking the words as if they stuck to his tongue. "Eren – and Ymir, too … After what happened, they're both–"

"Oi."

Marco and Armin came to a stop before a two-story house covered in vines. Jean had been sitting on the doorstep, rising from his seat to brush off his pants.

"Where've you two been?" Jean asked.

"Sorry, Jean," Marco said. He forced a smile. "Armin and I ran into each other and we got a bit distracted. I'll go upstairs to change, then we can head out."

"Yeah, sure," Jean said. He scratched the back of his head, looking at Armin with a hum. "You gonna join us, Armin?"

"No."

Armin held up a hand, giving a small wave as he stepped away. "Sorry, but I think I should go check on Eren and Mikasa."

"If you want," Jean said, frowning. "But I don't think anything has changed."

"It has," Armin said. "Something has changed. You'll notice it soon."

Armin turned his back to them, continuing down the row of houses without a second glance.

"What the hell is he talking about?" Jean asked, brow furrowing.

"I'm not sure," Marco said. He looked away from Armin's retreating figure to turn the handle to the front door.

I don't think … Marco thought, stepping into the dark entryway.

… I want to be sure.