A/N: I apologize if some of this seems to be rushed or has mistakes. I edited it myself and I had a really hard time with this. If there are any major mistakes, please let me know!
I hope you all enjoy this sequel, the updates will NOT be regular, but I promise to make it worth it.

Late Winter 1922

The kitchen is dark and cold enough to see the hot breath that escapes her as she sits. Her legs are crossed, knee over knee, curved calf exposed in the frigid air. Dainty hands are folded in her lap, arms covered in the fine silk of an expensive blouse. Her collar is folded neatly, the front of her top buttoned tightly. Pale lashes brush rosy cheeks as she remains still, eyes closed as the silence in the room grows louder and louder.

"Wir nehmen Ihr Haus." she breathes, and the couple across from her can only scowl. Eyes open just enough to view her surroundings, for her to watch as her breath creates a small cloud in the air, and then dissipates. There are two men standing on either side of her, both carrying bulky guns, their hair slicked back and their cold eyes trained forward. They look out of place in the pale blue kitchen, designed a decade ago for a 'modern' housewife. The blonde woman at the kitchen table looks out of place too in her expensive clothing, a walking stick leaned up against the side of the wooden chair where she sits. Her eyes flick up to meet the pair that glares back at her from the other end of the table.

The man was born in Russia, his uncles and cousins apart of a smaller mafia in this part of town. He'd hoped that his Russian brothers would save him when his house went under and his money ran out, but the German predator sitting across from him snatched the deal before he could even make the call.

"We're going to take your house." she says, allowing her accent to flow through the air. It causes his wife to shift in her seat, but she sits tall and proud, not unlike the other molls the blonde woman has met before. "We'll pay off your debts but you know what this means." The man does not nod, but somehow she knows he's registered this information. "We'll need a first payment in exactly two months. Then we will be sending you our shopping list." she doesn't smile, doesn't show any signs of victory. "You know what happens if you do not cooperate."

Dark eyes automatically flick to the portrait on the wall: a woman, a man, and their two boys. Again, he doesn't nod.

"We'll help keep your business afloat in exchange for some… rare imports." the man swallows and the blonde woman fights the urge to smirk. "And I expect that you will not contact us unless there's an emergency of some sort." she glances down and begins to pick at her fingernails, giving them a once over as she enjoys the couple's silence. "Habe ich mich klar ausgedrückt?" she purrs, and then looks up, this time her lips curling upwards in a satisfied expression. The man is red with anger, body leaning forward just slightly out of rage. "Are the terms I have set for you very clear, sir?" she barks, and the wife flinches. There is no response for the man, so the blonde takes her walking stick and stands, body flinching as she lifts herself up and turns away from him.

There's an explosion behind her and she smiles.

"I refuse to be controlled by a crippled German fiend—" he snarls, and the men beside her move to tackle him. She lifts a hand, though, and everyone goes still.

"You will listen to what I say because your life rests in the palms of my hands." she lifts her chin, and does not turn her head to look at him. "There is a reason your family did not come to help you in your time of need. They all owe me something as well. Your little trade is meine hündin now, so before you act prideful know your damn place." There's a shuffle behind her like he's going to attack, and before he can leap there's a shot fired and a shriek emits from the woman.

The air is frozen as the five figures eye each other from their respective places in the kitchen. The man is now sprawled on the floor, leaning against his elbows with widened eyes. A baby begins to cry and there's the faint sound of a dog barking as the blonde slides her gun back where it came from: the waistband of her skirt. The discharged bullet is lodged in the wall, the only trace of it being the small hole in the wall behind the man. A broad smile runs across her lips as she turns her back and begins to slowly make her way from the room and to the front door of the small house. As she is escorted into her car, she faintly hears the wife screaming at her husband in various Russian slurs and desperately trying to calm her shrieking children.

There's almost an ounce of pity inside the blonde's mind, but before she can dwell on it she's tapping her driver's shoulder and they're rolling away as quickly as the black vehicle can take them.

Summer 1922

The bar smells like cheap liquor and the drink in his hand has a cherry flavor and the noise of people dancing behind him makes him more nauseous than the alcohol. This place is especially crowded and loud, effectively perpetuating his eternal headache and causing him to cringe in irritation every time the stools beside him go from unoccupied to occupied as the hours pass. He's on his fifth and he knows if he asks for a sixth he won't be able to walk himself home, so he lifts an arm to catch the bartender's attention, and a hand slides into his lap before the portly serviceman can look his way.

Armin becomes vaguely aware of a face staring him down from his left, but he tries to ignore the blatant come on and glares at the girl out of the corner of his eye, waving frantically for the bartender to give him his bill so he can pay and leave before he hurls the past few hours worth of cocktails into someone's lap. The girl speaks to him, something he can't hear over the lively laughter and jazz so he gives up and digs into his jacket, finally turning his body to face the woman whose hand is slowly inching towards his inner thigh.

"I haven't seen you here before," she coos, her voice slurred in a familiar accent. Armin's face is cold, and he remains silent, "and I'd remember a cute face like yours." It's German, he thinks.

Blue eyes graze over her black ponytails that are short and curled at the ends, then down to her revealing dress that's hitched up above the bottoms of her thighs to show more skin than Armin's used to. The neckline dips down between her breasts and the sleeves are thin straps that soon fall down her shoulder as she leans in to giggle at him. Her eyes are grey and wide, painted with a thin line of black to match the bright red of her lipstick. He swallows as his eyes move downwards and linger too long on her pale, shapely legs. The girl seems to notice, playfully slapping his arm with her free hand. The other moves only to tickle his knees as she gives off a mocking snort of laughter.

"Someone's being a naughty boy," she whispers, breath fresher than his probably is. She's certainly not drunk, and he certainly is, and the bartender is sitting his check down before he can reply. He sighs in relief and shifts to grab the paper, but she girl only leans forward, pressing her chest against his shoulder, standing, and loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. Her lips skim the shell of his earlobe and he stiffens, hands frozen as her fingers fiddle with the front of his jacket. "You wanna get out of here, Naughty Boy?" she purrs, moving her body so she's directly behind him. He rushes to pay the bill, feeling as she presses her breasts against his back and hitches a leg up onto the side of the stool so her creamy thighs are exposed , brushing the sides of his trousers.

"I'll be walking home alone tonight, ma'am," he struggles to say, pushing her away gently by turning in her arms and squirming out of her grasp. There's a loud coughing from the other side of the bar, and he whips around to see the bartender glaring at him with fiery eyes. The girl plops herself on Armin's lap, button nose pressed to his neck as she cranes her neck to whisper something German in his ear. He decides not to translate it and widens his eyes in recognition to the bartender.

So this is that kind of place, he thinks. For the past few months he's been skipping around, never staying at one bar too long. He's had to keep out of the Survey's way, so finding untainted bars has proven difficult. Here he is on his first visit to this particular place to find that beer isn't the only thing they serve. He tells himself at least it isn't the bar where he met Her.

It doesn't take long to figure out that he better scram before the girl starts talking prices, so he feigns a smile that looks real enough to get her off his lap, and takes her hand, spinning her around to the music as he backs away. With one last spin and a cute giggle from the girl he pushes her away just enough to stumble into the crowd and make his way into the restaurant section before she catches up. He dashes outside and into the street, clambering into a taxi and rubbing his eyes as the roar of the engine fills his ears.

December 1924

He was paralyzed. The smell of her hair tinged with the salt in the air made his breath grow shallow. A flood of memories was building up behind his eyes, ready to burst at any moment. She was sobbing into his chest, fingers clawing at his back through the thin fabric of his shirt, trying desperately to anchor herself to something, to bring them closer.

And he held her, arms tight around her waist, fingers locked around his forearms. He held them both together as her whimpers grew silent and his own spilling tears began to fall into the sand. She tried to slide away from him, but he held on even tighter.

He was afraid, afraid to look at her after all this time, to hear her voice again. His knees shook as she struggled to pull away from him, calling his name softly, calling his eyes away from the frosted ocean waves to her own blue, blue eyes.

"You were dead." he was careful to use past tense, careful to watch her eyes as she stared up at him. She didn't move, finger shivering at his back.

"I know." Her lips moved slowly, voice heavy with her German accent. She reached up, a finger tracing his cheek up to his ear. She tucked a strand of blowing hair behind his ear, allowing her hand to drop as she inspected him, eyes wandering up and down from his eyes to his chest.

"I thought-" he began, but she silenced him by placing her forehead on his shoulder.

He heard her murmur something, and dared to extend his hands to lift her face away from him. His trembling hands held her cheeks, making her look at him as she stood. He could feel the glares of her comrades on his back, but he held onto her tighter.

"You told me you'd-"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I lied." she breathed.

"About which part?" finger curled into her skin and she grimaced. "Annie I loved you and you died in my arms—," his voice broke as he struggled to speak,"how did you- You let me think you were dead, you let me suffer for so long, Annie— you, you left me." He yanked his arms away and he stumbled back. His heart was pounding in his chest, roaring in his ears. He was so conflicted, confused. His hands came up to cover his eyes. This is all a dream, he told himself, Annie died three years ago; this isn't real.

Her smaller hands wrapped around his wrists, tugging gently to pull his arms away.

"I didn't die." she said, voice harsh against the breeze, "I'm here." he threw his hands back, taking another step away from her.

"Do you know what you did to me?" He hissed, almost unable to breathe. "You lied to me. You left me. I was so alone for so long, and you come back into my life and pretend like this is completely normal, like I shouldn't be shocked that you're here!"

She looked scarred and shaken. She looked as if she were just as hurt by this as he was, but he had no pity, no mercy for liars. "Armin," her hand came to rest on his chest but his came to meet hers, pushing it away from him as he wiped his face with his palms.

Around them the wind began to pick up, and he could almost taste the rain in the air, feel the heat of the clouds against his skin. The sky was now darkening as the clouds moved, but she was the only thing he could see, the only thing he could focus on.

"Armin let me make this—"

"Make it right?" he scoffed, fists tightening at his sides, now. "How are you going to make it right?" he yelled, voice cracking in the air. She winced, arms crossing over her chest as she looked away. "How can you get back three years of my life, no, four years." Her lips trembled as he spoke, her body lurching as he opened his mouth to scream again, but nothing came out.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, and he could barely hear it over the wind. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. A warm body pressed against his as he stood, face burrowing into the crook of his shoulder, hands tucked at his chest.

"I am too." he said quietly to her, bringing shaky hands up to touch her back, keeping her body pressed to his as the wind began to pick up and the only noise between them was the howl of the air.

"We should go inside." she whispered into his ear, voice shifting back to her less comfortable American accent. He nodded slowly, chin bumping against her forehead. His heart raced as hers remained slow and steady against him. The fact that she could remain so calm while there was a hurricane inside his chest angered him, made the winds inside him grow stronger. She pulled away and he dropped his arms with a scowl.

Her fingers traced his forearm to his hand, trying to grasp his fingers with hers, but he tugged them away and started to move away from her. Each step in the sand was heavier than it was when he had thought they were going to kill him here. They might as well have gone through with it with the pain he was feeling in his chest in that moment.

The wind blew against them as they walked, and when they reached the path to the house, Armin could see Bertholdt standing at the glass door, face dark and eyes heavy with unreadable emotion. He let them inside, eyes immediately on Annie as she entered the house. She had her hands clutching her elbows, and her back was hunched forward slightly. She looked up at him as Armin watched, her right hand moving to touch his cheek with a tenderness he'd seldom seen before. Bertholdt's face remained stony, his eyes the only thing to reflect the disdain he was feeling.

Annie turned back to Armin, and they all stood very, very still. "Come to the kitchen with me." she said softly, nodding towards the room she'd spoken of. Armin gave a single nod and gestured for her to lead. She took a hesitant step forward, then walked from the room and into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder as he followed quietly behind. The blonde tucked herself into the inside corner of the counter while Armin seated himself at the table, hands settled on the surface, fingers linked, and eyes wide.

"Am I supposed to be happy about this?" he asked, lips quivering.

He didn't want to look up to see her answer, so after a long moment she vocalized her shrug: "I'm… not sure." she bit her lip, closing her eyes tightly and reaching up with both hands to brush her hair behind her ears. The winds outside picked up and battered against the glass of the windows. Armin picked his head up to watch Bertholdt and Reiner, who had materialized out of the living room, rushing to close the open doors and windows around the house. The blond shivered in his seat and resumed his earlier position, listening to the sounds of their heavy feet against the hardwood floors. "I didn't know how you'd react— I didn't…" she sighed, voice regaining some of the strength he remembered it to have, some of the strength he'd written she'd had all those years ago. "This wasn't to hurt you, or to fool you into believing something you didn't want to. I… loved you— love you very dearly. You know that. I didn't intentionally—"

He held up a hand to stop her. He'd like to hear those things eventually, some day, but not now. "Where were you?" he asked, and she shifted her weight.

"A bit of everywhere…" she breathed, voice growing louder as the wind picked up even more, raindrops tapping quiet rhythms against the windows. "The south, Europe, New York—"

"So you were here?" he snapped, head jerking to look her way. "You were here in the city?" his face was cold, hands clenched in front of him. She didn't move, her own eyes icy and her body stiff. "You were so close to me and you didn't think to tell me that you hadn't died?" his teeth were gritted, knees shaking as he spoke.

"It wasn't safe for you. It wasn't safe for any of us." she said, posture becoming more and more lax. He wasn't satisfied with this answer, but he turned his head away anyways. He'd get his explanation soon, when he decided he wanted it. Annie seemed to know what he was thinking because her lips were pressed tightly together, a flat line against her softer face.

"What were you doing for three years?" he replied. She waited to answer this.

"Working…" he heard her swallow, "Missing you…" he scoffed, shaking his head.

"Did you sleep with anyone else during your absence?" he sneered, getting right to the point, "Did you fall in love, have a child, find someone else to fill your time? To bring up to your room? To manipulate?" He looked at her with his cold eyes, and she looked shaken, eyes wide and fingers tight against the pale skin of her arms.

"No. I— no. Armin, I—" she looked as if she were about to cry again. "I'd never replace you like that. Do you honestly think—"

"I don't know what to think." he said, voice louder than they'd both anticipated. The two of them shivered, eyes moving away from each other's gazes as the rain filled the tense space between them. There was an unspoken question. Have you? he wanted her to ask. He wanted to lie. He wanted to say, "Yes, yes I did. I have a family now, a real life where I'm not missing you, where I'm not constantly trying to fill the space you used to take up in my bed. I slept with people more beautiful than you, people more honest, more loving." But he won't. He couldn't. They both understood she knew the truth behind those words, behind all his words. He blinked slowly.

"I need…" he looked down at his hands. His fingers were fiddling with each other. He brought his legs underneath the chair and laid his head on the table with a soft "thud." He couldn't bring himself to address her, call her by her first name, "I'm going to need time, I'm going to need space. I've been alone, without you, for three years." he lifted his head, pushing off the table and standing in the process. He turned to her, and she pressed herself harder into the counter as he moved hesitantly, slowly, closer to her. "You don't know what that was like…" he whispered, aware of the fact that they were being watched. He could sense Bertholdt and Reiner's eyes on his back. He could hear them shuffling their feet nervously in the other room.

For all they know he could have changed sides, he could have become a Survey. But they knew better than that. He knew they'd been watching him. He stood directly in front of her and she watched him carefully, observing every detail of his movements until his brought his shaky hands up to hold her arms.

"I do," she said, her voice breaking, "Armin, my love, I do, I promise." Her small frame shook with a heavy sob, once and then twice. She was strong enough to stifle the third. He leaned down over her, his heart pounding in his ears. There was so much he wanted to know, so much he wanted to hear her say. He'd wanted her to come back. He'd held out hope for her to return to him, not even in his wildest dreams did he believe that it would happen. He bit his lip as his eyes flicked over her face.

"I don't know if I should believe you." he shook his head, but her hands slipped upwards and into his hair, slowly pulling him closer.

"I wouldn't blame you if you hated me." she admitted. Armin scoffed again.

"I don't think I could ever hate you… even after…" he didn't finish the sentence. She made a noise that sounded like the echo of a laugh. "Annie," his voice shook as he felt her breath against his lips, her nose brush his, "Do you love me?"

"Yes," she said, voice breaking as her upper body shook with laughter, "Yes, I promise, I do, I always did." she bit her lip as his eyes closed. "I always will…"

"But you lied to me—"

"I didn't tell you the truth —"

"It's the same thing," he rested his forehead against hers, still afraid to look her in the eyes again. His hands fell to her waist, his grip so light she could barely feel it.

"I know." she answered, her own eyes closing tightly.

"I think I still love you too." he breathed, and her body relaxed in a sort of relief. "I think I still love you even if you broke your promise." she nodded slightly, bumping their heads together.

"I've done many bad things, Armin." she crafted her words carefully, "Do you still love me then?"

He thought on this, and opened his eyes for a moment before leaning down and pressing his lips firmly against hers. Annie tensed, and a moment later her fingers tightened into place and pulled him closer. She tasted like salt and rain and the end of an era and the time passed so slowly between their lips that the rain had stopped falling long before they broke apart.

There was a loud cough that caused Armin's eyes to open. His head was nestled in the space between Annie's shoulder and her neck, breathing her scent in and out as her fingers stroked his hair with tentative hands. They stood in the kitchen as she sun came out at the window, bodies tense and weak from staying in one place too long. The cough came again. Annie's hands stilled and Armin inhaled as he drew away, turning to see Reiner standing in the doorway. Armin stepped away from her reaching up and wiping his face with his hands before walking to the window.

"Was ist das?" Annie asked the taller blond, and Armin was momentarily surprised that he understood.

Reiner leaned closer to Annie, mumbling something in her ear in their home language, but Armin interrupted.

"Sie müssen nicht, das zu tun. I know what you're saying," he called out, eyes flicking from Reiner to Annie, who were shocked by his fluency in the language. "I did some studying in your absence," he explained. Annie frowned, though a gleam of pride was in her eyes. Reiner just nodded once, face twisted in annoyance. Armin suddenly thought to himself that he had gotten a lot of practice with the language over the past few years. He often communicated in different languages to Krista, to Historia, when she visited. It turned out that the girl was more of a mystery than he'd first thought, just like the woman standing in front of him.

"You need to make a decision on where you'll be staying tonight." Reiner grunted in English, eyes moving from Armin to Annie. Annie locked her fingers in front of her, frowning but nodding in agreement. "The storm continues, so it would be our safest option to remain here." Reiner took a step towards the window, drawing back the cover and glaring at the outside world. There was a crash outside, startling Armin and causing him to jump a little from his spot. Annie's eyes flicked over him to make sure he was okay before she walked to join Reiner at the window.

"They won't try anything in such a heavy rain…" Annie murmured, reaching up and closing the curtain to draw Reiner's attention back to her. There was a perpetual moment of heaviness on all of their shoulders. Annie glanced from Armin to Reiner, and then into the next room where Bertholdt could be heard moving about with anxiety. Armin glanced down to the floor and then around to the cupboards that circled him, searching for any excuse to avert his eyes from the other two in the room.

"You mean the Surveys," his voice boomed in comparison to the dead silence around them, "they'll come after you?" he asked, continuing to keep his gaze away.

"Yes…" Annie replied hesitantly, "They don't know I'm alive, but Bertholdt and Reiner have not been in the same place for months now. If we're all caught here, including you, we'll surely be eliminated."

The old Armin would have swallowed at this notion, the idea that they'd be executed by the people his own friends associated with. Now he just stood in solemn silence, unable to say a word, listening to the sound of his own rapid heartbeat.

"Do they think I know something?" he asked, his breath becoming shallow. He did not want too much information too fast, but he did not want to be kept in the dark. His eyes shifted to Annie who stood uncomfortably in her place by the window. Her face illuminated by the stifled sunlight unlike her eyes that darkened with thought.

Annie flicked her hand, dismissing the taller blond. Reiner left the room after a disgruntled chuff of breath, obviously unhappy to have been ordered out. Armin lifted his head to hear the blond man mumbling something to his now significantly calmer partner in the next room over. The blond could visualize himself running his fingers through his hair and yanking as hard as he could, but that wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't help him right now to be hurting himself as he tried to figure this all out. It was a puzzle, a puzzle he pieced together three years ago that had come undone. There were new pieces now, pieces he'd never seen before. He just had to fit them together one by one.

Only he didn't think he had the patience to see it through.

"They think… you're helping us." she said quietly, tapping her fingers on her arm. She turned her back, resting her head on the side of the window. "They think the payments you've been receiving from us every other month have been because you're working for us." Armin leaned back onto the nearest hard surface, which happened to be the counter, and closed his eyes. His brows furrowed and he let his head fall back as he thought.

"I've been getting payments every month, though." he replied.

"They've been paying for your silence." she said, audible disappointment. "You never published the full story, never told anyone outside about the events, never demanded pay for what you went through, never threatened them… They paid out of kindness, you could say," she breathed, "but now that you've disappeared in the middle of the night they will think one of two things… that we're disposing of you for our own reasons, or that you've been helping us all along."

Armin nodded with a frown, unwilling to ask why she'd put him in this danger to begin with. "So you've been making money outside of what you did before? In other countries?"

Annie chuckled quietly, "Yes I always have. I have power in England, in Germany, in Russia. I've got smaller gangs wrapped around my fingers, governments fearing me… though they all believe I'm dead." she turned, pressing her back to the wall, feeling the rumble of the thunder against her skin, "I'm a ghost now. They think I've got a puppet in my place… they'll be surprised to see me." she laughed to herself, causing Armin to shiver.

"Did you lose anything when you died?" he asked quietly, and all laughter ceased.

"So much, Armin." she replied quietly after a long pause. He bit his bottom lip, standing up and turning to look at her. She was now facing him, eyes wide and posture slanted. "More than you… More than you know." she said, reaching up to touch her own cheek with her hand. He stood, watching her for a solid minute before closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. "I want… Can you forgive me?" she asked, "I'm not sorry for what I did, for lying, for leaving," she paused, "that was for me. It was to protect myself, my assets," a glance is spared for the men in the other room and her eyes flashed back to him, "for my friends… I'm not sorry for saving myself," she "but I'm sorry I hurt you…"

He opened his eyes to see her staring, eyes watering but seemingly fragile body very still. She looked cold, as if it were his job to walk across the room and hold her if only to keep her warm and dry. The aching in his chest only grew stronger the longer he looked, and her little body only seemed more and more small.

"I will need to think about it." he whispered, finding it hard to breathe as he kept his gaze on her. She nodded slowly, and in the time it took to inhale and release, she had disappeared from the room. Armin leaned over the counter, pressing his palms to the surface and hanging his head as his body began to shake, and he felt the familiar pull at his hands and eyes and mouth because as soon as she was out of sight he began to miss her once again.

All he ever did was think.

The sky remained dark through until the nighttime. Reiner and Bertholdt were stationed at each door, and from Armin's seat in the kitchen he could smell the cigarette smoke drifting in from the back of the house.

He'd sat here for most of the day, leaving Annie to converse with her comrades in the living room, sharing tea and speaking hushed words so that Armin wouldn't hear. He caught the gist of it, regardless: they were to go back to the city, hide out in a new safe house until the it was clear to make an escape, meet with partners and close on deals around town. He began to bite his nails, tongue dry and body itching to search the house for a bottle of something heavy to drown out his thoughts.

He'd taken a two hour walk on the beach as soon as the clouds cleared up and the sunset lit the beach as the moon rose. He slipped off his shoes and tucked his hands in his pockets before making his way down the shore, toes tickled in the freezing water, reminding him of a better time. Reiner watched from the back porch, making sure he wouldn't make a run for it. After a while Armin returned, cleaned himself in the bathroom and spent a long time staring at himself in he mirror wondering when the color of his eyes stopped reflecting the crystals in the ocean and started resembling the bottom of a liquor bottle.

And then he sat here, in the kitchen, head in his hands and heart in his throat. He'd come to one resounding conclusion over the day: He wanted her. No matter what she'd done, the blood on her hands, the miles under her feet, he wanted her. He didn't forgive her, couldn't forgive her, but he thought that with time he'd be able to see her point of view. He'd always wanted to.

He inhaled, pushing his hair behind his ears and holding the mess of blond to his forehead as he thought. He blinked. It must have been ten or eleven at night before he moved again, but he did. It was time to stop thinking. He slid the chair back, tucking it under the counter after he'd stepped back and away from the table. He wrapped his arms around himself, defensive, and moved silently into the next room. It was an odd noise, the silence, an even odder feel when the room was empty where she should have filled it. There was a sense of longing in his chest, pulling him towards the place he knew she'd be.

He placed a hand on the bedroom door, inhaling deeply before softly pushing it open. The body on the bed jerked upwards, and their gazes were once again locked. She visibly relaxed, sliding up onto the bed to place her back on the headboard to watch him. He glanced over to the doors, making sure Reiner and Bertholdt were not watching, and slipped inside the door, closing it behind him and pressing his back to it. He swallowed as he watched her cross her arms over her knees, drawing her legs up to her chest and observing his every movement, every breath.

Armin moved without a word to the bed, letting every ounce of strength he had not to rush towards her, take her in his arms, kiss her senseless. His arms itched as the thought crossed his mind, but he knew he could not allow himself to do this. He had to take it slow, he'd decided. He had to take it slow so that the fragile connection between them would not be broken again. He'd lost her once and he wasn't prepared to lose her again.

His legs carried him to the side, and the blonde woman's eyes widened as he climbed onto the bed, on his designated side if he remembered correctly. He laid out on his back, unable to look anywhere but the ceiling above him. She shifted beside him and he flinched, closing his eyes and feeling her settle beside him. Though her hand was only a few inches away, it felt like there were miles between them. The steady sound of her breath in the air was the only anchor in the sea of confusion he was in, the only constant besides his own ragged breath.

"I'm—"

"Don't say it again." he huffed when she tried to break the silence. "Don't…" he whispered, breath shaking, "Just…" he sucked in breathe, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. "Annie."

It was so foreign to say her name again. He'd forbidden the word for so long, writing pseudonyms in his notebooks and stories for months before he convinced himself he'd forgotten it altogether.

"Armin." she breathed, relieved almost, like a prayer. He didn't dare turn his head, knowing that if he did tears would spill over out of his eyes. Instead he moved his hand slowly towards where he knew hers would be.

There was a heavy feeling that ghosted over his chest. After all this time he still remembered how she laid on a bed, her head tilted to the side, arms splayed open to welcome him, welcome someone, into the warm crescent of her body. He remember the way her fingers felt intertwined with his when it was too hot to hold her, how her body shook when she pressed heated kisses against his neck with her fingernails digging into his shoulders, how she felt when she ran her fingers over his arm, listening to him quietly, watching him with those beautiful eyes, eyes he'd had dreams about when he slept alone. Memory was a dangerous thing, he thought as his hand scraped against the cold blankets towards her open palm.

It was like he was in a dream, threading his fingers through hers, feeling her calloused fingers against his. Their hands lay between them, barely touching but to intimately intertwined that he felt this tie could never be severed again, not without a fight.

She was right back then. He'd needed to become a fighter. He squeezed her hand gently, and heard a choked sob escape her lips. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip to keep himself from letting one out himself.

"It's strange," he breathed as she shivered, tightening her grasp on his hand and nodding her head.

"What?" she asked, much too quiet to have come from the mouth of a lion, much too quiet to have come from the lips of Annie Leonhardt. He forgot that his own had been there too, between her lips. They were softer than they looked, kinder than she cared to admit. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Touching you again." he replied, tightening the lock between them and tugging her towards him. She reacted immediately, pushing her body from her spot as he shifted onto his side. She slipped from his grasp tucking her body into his, her head under his chin and her arms around his waist. His hands slowly found where they'd fit before, a little more gentle than he remembered he'd been back when they first met.

"All my life I've been a warrior," she said into his chest, the feel of her breath sending a shiver down his spine. He nodded, chin brushing her forehead, "But I've never fought for anything, anyone that I've actually loved."

Armin reached up, fingers lacing in blonde tresses, brushing through the strands as softly as he could manage.

"Until now," she scoffed and began to laugh, but the solemn line of her lips was evident against his skin. There was a moment of silence. They both inhaled the other's scent, and Armin's first thought was that she was intoxicating. "There's a big fight ahead of us…" she whispered, scooting backwards and brushing a hand over his cheek, her eyes full of storms as she gazed at him. "Will you… fight with me?" she asked, blonde lashes brushing her cheeks as her face drew closer to his.

"For you or with you, they're the same to me." the words slipped from his mouth as he closed his eyes and her nose brushed his. How he missed that feeling, the feeling of her body so close to his, pulling and pushing, falling asleep in his wake.

'Gravity,' he wanted to say, 'you're like the moon and I am the ocean.' but the words die in his mouth as she kissed him again and it felt like three years time disappeared between their quickened breaths.

A/N:

By now we know a few things.
1. Yes, Annie is in fact alive.
2. Yes, Armin still loves her.
3. ?

I won't be putting much slang on these notes anymore since I expect you all to have learned them by now! I hope this satisfied some of your needs from XX and I hope you continue to read and follow as the story progresses.
The timeline for this one is going to be a little skewed- like this chapter there will be flashforwards and flashbacks frequently, let me know if this is not effective for you.
Thank you so much for reading, again, I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate all likes/kudos/follows/reviews etc!