For a time, she watched him as if he was a moth, fluttering closer and closer to the flame of a war he was too idealistic to understand. She wouldn't bother to clench her fists, to narrow her eyes, to care. It was his problem that he was so raw and open, like a fresh wound. Sadness and hopelessness would seep within that, infect his dreams, his thoughts, his hopes.

He should have been aiming for the Police Force, should have aimed for life, for reason, to live and breathe, comfortable. Instead, like a fool, he went off on a shipwreck hope that he can save humanity, that this boy could contribute to squashing something so much bigger than what he believes it to be.

Annie shouldn't care. He was another careless boy with diamonds in his eyes, full of potential, yet nothing extraordinary. In fact, the only thing that serves him is Mikasa's unwavering loyalty, steadfast as a rock sunken to the bottom of a river, the current unable to cut her down, yet forever eroding.

Had she cared, and trust her, she does not, she would worry. He is fickle and ambitious, brimming with a pride and a naivety unquenchable.

He almost reminds her of her father.

Almost.

But she remembers how she had stared him down, her fists in front of her face, her stance simple yet effective. Why she had bothered, she didn't know. Why he kept coming back was a much better question, more prodding, on her mind. All she had done was leave him with bruises so purple they were black. He would eat the dirt of the training floor and she had watched his skin connect with earth and split like a balloon, had accompanied him to medics and nurses.

But still he returned. Now, she saw in his eyes, anger and hurt, as if she had betrayed him of her own accord. She remembered the feeling of his fist pounding her face against the forest floor, remembered his roar, the pain, dull and thudding. She was prey now, she assumed, a creature cornered.

And she wouldn't know his internal battle, his anger at her lack of trust, his hurt from her lack of loyalty, his unending ache at the loss of his friends, and his conflicting emotions. Annie would remain a hollow cull in the center of his chest, a giant mystery, a question mark of blond hair and blue eyes, of powerful kicks, of swift and well learned technique.

They faced off, each with everything to lose.

She would fight him, she chanted. She must, for it is her duty. She must, for it is what was asked of her, what was thrown her way, the only log to cling to in the current.

She was not Mikasa. She could not be there for him, forever unwavering.

But that did not mean that she didn't want to be.

No one panic! I am NOT out of my Rivetra rut! I just wanted to publish this little snippet while I had the chance as I won't be on much this week. :) For any of my Rivetra followers, do not fear, there shall be plenty of RivaillexPetra to come from me~