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Annie’s fingers drew circles around the parts of Reiner’s skin that weren’t bruised by Jean’s punches.
She could see little puffs of steam come up from his wounds, as they wafted into the cold evening air. Physically he was healing, sure, but the pain and guilt that he felt — that they felt — went more than just skin-deep.
The day they betrayed Marco was forever etched in Annie’s memory. She knew any violence that Jean or any of the cadets hurtled their way would never be enough to make amends for their crimes.
The physicality of running her fingers along Reiner’s hair and face kept her grounded in the present, away from the traumatic memories that assaulted her whenever she closed her eyes. Even her time in the crystal did not allow her any relief from it all.
She felt the warmth of Reiner’s person, contrasted against the coolness of the forest air and the dampness of the grass below her feet. Her fingers traced the planes of his face — his brow, the lines of his cheekbones, the firmness of his jaw. The beads of sweat on his forehead, the texture of his hair against her palms.
Jean had stomped deeper into the woods to cool off, after being dragged away by Hange and the rest of the Alliance. A few meters away from them, Gabi and Falco, exhausted from the dramatics that evening, had fallen deep in slumber.
So it was just him and her, in their little cold bubble, feeling ever more isolated and estranged from everyone else. Sadly, they were no strangers to this feeling. In their own little way, they were each other’s respite in this increasingly alien world — the final remnants of what home was for each other, what home meant.
What were they doing? Was their presence here, as the Armored and Female titans — as Reiner and Annie — did this count as a kind of reparation for their sins against the Paradisians? And what were they making amends for? Being here … would not bring Marco back, or anyone else who had been lost in the fray, for that matter.
“Hey … someone died in here?” a gruff voice croaked below her, pulling her out of her reverie once more.
“Reiner,” Annie whispered. “You’re awake.”
“Barely. That Jean … sure learned how to throw a punch, huh?”
“Looks like you forgot how to dodge, more like. Being Vice Captain made you soft.”
Reiner’s golden eyes met Annie’s ice blue ones. Both of them knew he would have let Jean go on for hours if Gabi and Falco had not intervened.
“I’m not the best person to make promises, Annie,” Reiner mustered, closing his bruised eyelids once again. “I couldn’t even bring Bertholdt home — so I can’t promise the same to you.”
“But you have my word that I’ll do my best to bring you back to your dad. Whatever it takes.”
The sky's hue slowly turned from pitch black to a shade of purple, signaling the incipience of dawn. Annie ran her hands gently along Reiner’s hair.
“I’ll hold you to that, then.”