Martha was the only one present in the room when Armin woke up the next morning, groggy after a restless nights' sleep, his dreams filled with images of sad, stoop-shouldered figures, madmen with blue boxes and bloody scarves. She stood next to his bed, a clip-board in hand as she went back-and forth between scribbling furiously and peering at him in assessment.

Her pen stopped mid-scribble as she became aware of him blinking back at her, and she cracked a small smile.

"Well, good morning there. Sleep well?"

Armin groaned tiredly as he tried sitting up, his side throbbing dully in reminder that he was still injured.

"Mmm not really." he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

She chuckled lightly and sat carefully in the chair pulled up beside the bed. "That's often the case in hospital, once you've woken up after surgery. Tends to be difficult to sleep properly." Her eyes moved to his injured side, currently buried beneath blankets. "How's your wound feeling today?"

Pressing his hand softly against his injured shoulder, Armin tested it experimentally as the dull throbbing intensified ever so slightly, eliciting a somewhat pained huff.

"Hurts." he said casually. "Not as bad as before though. Just a dull ache right now."

Martha nodded knowingly, hummed agreeably and leaned over him, lifting the blanket off of him.

"Why don't we just have a quick look then?"

Using skilled, practiced hands, she carefully undid the bandages over his wound, her face becoming more and more concerned as she came closer to removing all of them.

"Why are your coverings crusty? Infection maybe?" As she withdrew the last of the bandages, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Exactly where is it that the Doctor took you last night, Armin?" she asked curtly, eyes still focused shrewdly on the still partially covered injury.

Armin felt himself gulp in trepidation. "Umm...Just, the ocean..." he mumbled. "I – may have...sat in it...for a while..."

Her head immediately snapped up, glaring at him furiously. " HE TOOK YOU WHERE AND LET YOU WHAT?!"

Throwing care and caution to the wind, the now-livid young woman proceeded to yank the last bit of medical tape and clothe off of him roughly.

"Ow!" Armin hissed through clenched teeth.

Her face softened instantly, most of the angry tension leaving it as her eyes scanned over the stitches holding his would together. She sighed in relief and braced herself heavily against the bed, apparently satisfied with whatever she was seeing.

"You're lucky. It seems your bandages were effective enough at protecting the stitching from infection."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"Armin," she began, clearly exasperated "You can't sit in the ocean with stitches like this. The wound could become infected, and you could become septic." Her eyes found his, begging him silently. "Do you understand Armin?"

He nodded, eyes downcast, successfully chastised for the moment. "Yes. I'm sorry. But," his eyes became defiant suddenly "It's something I had to do. Even at that sort of risk. I had...unfinished business."

She sighed and smiled ruefully at him. "Well, important or not, I implore you to PLEASE be more careful about your stitches in the future."

Proceeding to replace his coverings with new ones, she continued to chide him softly and without anger. "You may be well on the road to recovery but that does NOT mean you're completely healed and that you can just let anything seep into your stitches. You need to take proper care of them."

After leaning back and admiring her handiworkwork, she fixed him with concerned eyes. "You need to take care of yourself." she said this almost as a plea.

Armin swallowed as she said this, a strange feeling of both guilt and unease washing over him.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why is it so important I take care of myself? I shouldn't even..."

He faltered and sighed sadly, playing with Mikasa's scarf distractedly. "I shouldn't even be alive."

WAP!

Armin felt himself tremble a bit in shock as he stared at a livid Martha, his hand reaching up to rub his stinging cheek.

She too held her hand slightly in pain, but the look of controlled fury remained in place.

"Don't you ever, and I mean EVER say something like that!" she hissed out harshly. Armin could only stare on in disbelief as she plowed on. "The Doctor risked his LIFE to save you! Do you know what that means?!"

Armin shook his head warily, unsure whether he wanted to hear this or not.

"It means he thinks you're somebody, Armin! It means he thinks you're special!" She was almost screaming at him now, the anger in her voice having escalated from controlled to hysterical. "It means you're important. The Doctor's never met any one, let alone cared, about someone un-important!"

She huffed indignantly, making a noble attempt at trying to collect herself as she smoothed her hair back into place and adjusted her imacculately clean white coat.

"And not only that but, Armin, you're only 16. Please. You have an opportunity to live your life, and I mean really live it, for yourself and no one else." her eyes bore into his, pleading silently with him again.

"Please don't throw away the life these good people at this facility spent time and effort trying to save."

In the end, it was this comment that brought Armin out of his shocked stupor. Armin had never put too much value on his own life, but on the value of what it would mean to others, and whether or not it would label him a burden - that he cared about.

He breathed in heavily, urging himself to be rational. Maybe things would've been better if he was dead. But he wasn't. For whatever reason, the Doctor had seen fit to prevent that. His chest ached as he thought about this. Yes, the Doctor had saved him. He'd never know now what dying then would've achieved. He wouldn't even know if he'd be happier dead. After all, could one even 'be' anything while dead? His jaw tightened. But he knew one thing: He was alive now, and he could live it however he wanted.

He didn't have to fight Titans anymore. No longer would he have to live in fear. Everything he'd ever feared had already happened to him, what was there left to fear? Death?

Armin laughed at the absurdity of such an idea. Right, Death. Like he'd ever be afraid of that again.

Martha eyed Armin a bit warily as he continued to laugh, only increasing the volume as he processed these facts, realizing more and more as he did so how pointless it was to keep reveling in it all. Everything was already set in motion now. Mikasa and Eren were dead, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it anymore. He almost smiled sadly at the thought. No, it was too late to fix things now. His world, and his family, were gone now, lost to him forever. What would wanting to die now achieve, really?

Having wanted it or not, Armin was suddenly important to someone again. He didn't exactly understand why or how, but he knew now, from the conversation between Martha and the Doctor that he'd listened in on the night before, that The Doctor was loathe to leave or abandon him for his own reasons, whatever they may be.

And Martha. Armin looked curiously at the pretty young Doctor in front of him, his eyes softening as he allowed himself another tight smile. He wasn't sure what he meant to her, or why she seemed so adamant about his staying alive. He hardly even knew her, and vice-versa. But she'd obviously done quite a bit of work to keep him alive, and he wouldn't throw that away. It would be selfish.

He wouldn't allow either of them to think he was ungrateful. He would stay alive, he'd take care of himself. His hands fisted in the edges of the scarf around his neck, eyes burning with resolve.

Armin would live out his life, if he could. He'd do it for Eren and Mikasa, for the dreams they'd shared about lives outside the walls, about a world without Titans. He could live that dream now, and he'd do it for them. But he'd also do it for two others, for Martha and The Doctor, the two strangers who seemed to want to see him alive so badly. He'd live, really live for all of them. And maybe, just maybe sometime, someday in the near or even distant future, for the first time, he could live for himself.

Unfortunately for Armin and his new sense of resolve, at least another week would pass in between the time he and Martha's little conversation took place, and the next time the Doctor would decide to pop in for another spontaneous visit. During this period, Armin found himself struggling to maintain a hold on his new found sense of purpose and determination as he became more bored and frustrated with every moment that passed, with no Doctor in sight. He wanted to see the world. He had to, now that he had nothing else. He needed to see the Doctor again, to talk to him and ask if his offer to travel would still be available to him. Having not seen the enigmatic man for several days, Armin was beginning to doubt the sincerity inherent in the Doctor's initial offer.

He'd attempted many times, to his attending nurses' chagrin, to persuade the medical staff into allowing him to leave the hospital, so that he might go in search of his missing rescuer. They'd been noble efforts, but all had ended in a futile show of disappointment, as Martha Jones continued to relentlessly thwart his efforts at every turn. She always inevitably arrived to push an anxious and increasingly agitated Armin back into bed, all the while lecturing him on the perils of too much stress on fresh stitches.

But despite her stern reprimands and insufferable need to scrutinize every inch of him every few hours, she was apparently not without a soft side. After tiring of listening to Armin complain about the Doctor's dissappearance and the need to get out and see the world, she'd proposed a bargain: Armin would wait patiently until the hospital had cleared him for leave, all the while doing what the staff instructed of him and cooperating with no fuss. In exchange, Martha would allow him to walk around the cooridoors, while under her supervision only, and she would also bring him books to read while he was indisposed in his hospital wing, so that he would not be without some sort of distraction.

Armin had initially been wary, believing that very little would be able to soothe his worried and anxious mind, but he'd found himself with little other alternative than to cooperate. After all, it wasn't as though he wasn't grateful for what the hospital, or Martha herself, had done for him. And it was only a day before Armin realized that Martha's plan had actually been quite a good one. With books to occupy his mind, and he and Martha's regular walks around the medical facility to entertain him, he found himself worrying less and less about the missing Doctor or what the future might hold.

The books Martha brought him were mostly textbooks, apparently many of them hers from her schooling days, in addition to a few old paper backed books she referred to as "science fiction" novels.

"Though, I suppose they're not so much fiction these days." she'd told him, a bemused smile breaking her usually stern demeanor.

As Armin devoured the contents of each one in record time, he learned fairly quickly what she'd meant. While all the books were fascinating in their own unique way, the sci-fi books were particularly difficult for him to put down. The textbooks were all quite interesting in their own right, many of them about this world's history, government and science, and Armin found them incredibly informative. They were facts, knowledge that Armin found necessary if he was to be staying in a world different than his own. But despite the differences between this world's history and customs and his own, it was all things he expected and had read about before, at least to some extent. Information about the world around him. And as amazing as it was, it was nothing compared to what he found in the novels.

Armin had never read a novel before. They hadn't really had them in his world, after all not many people lived long enough, or had the time to devote to making up elaborate stories and recording them for posterity. Not to mention the fact that very few people had ever actually learned to read. Usually, only information about Titans and the history of mankind's stint behind the walls had ever been deemed important enough to record permanently for future generations. The closest thing to a novel Armin had ever come across were some old folktales that a few intrepid humans had decided to write down for their own children. Cautionary tales with slight fantasy twists, mostly.

Fairy tales.

But these "science fiction" novels were something wholly different from even those. They created whole worlds, unlike anything he'd ever imagined, with complex characters and stories, written in such beautiful detail that armin could never have imagined himself. It made him feel so...small. And big. All at the same time. He felt simultaneously as though he could do anything he might ever dream, and also as though he would never do or live anything as magical and all-encompassing.

In addition to the joy the books brought him, he found that his daily stroll with Martha around the hospital to be not only useful and informative, but rather enjoyable as well.

During their walks, Martha would tell him odd stories about her childhood, about growing up in England, her dreams of becoming a Doctor, and often times she would tell him things about other patients as well. She would regularly point to various patients and inform him about their conditions, what kind of food they favored over what kinds they despised, and the odd things they talked about when she would give them their physicals. She'd even occasionally give him pop quizes on their conditions, symptoms and associated comlpications. It served as a good source for learning important inofrmation.

At first, she'd avoided talking about the Doctor as much as possible, whether because it was a sensitive topic for her, or because she was afraid of inadvertently upsetting Armin, he didn't know. But as he continued to push for more information on the mysterious man, she began to hesitantly drop facts and references to him in their conversations, until eventually most of their talks began to revolve around The Doctor entirely.

Martha told him about how she'd met him in a hospital, not unlike this one, about how it was taken over by aliens and eventually led to her joining him on his travels. She talked about how deeply in love she'd fallen with him, how infatuated she'd become, and how it had begun to consume her little by little, until she finally couldn't face it anymore. Armin listened in rapt attention as she described having to leave him, being forced to realize that she would never be able to replace the woman he'd originally loved, and lost.

And she told him about her too, the woman named Rose, who'd so completely captured The Doctor's sad and lonely heart. And after Rose, he heard about Donna. And about Jack and Mickey and even his most recent companions, Rory and Amy. With every new companion that he was introduced to in her accounts, and the subsequent fate of each one, Armin found himself becoming more and more conflicted about his feelings toward this man. This man who picked up companions like stray cats, and sometimes abandoned them in the same manner. This man who was so important to so many of these people, that they'd risked, and in some cases, even given up their lives for him.

As he lay in his hospital bed one night, after having come back from another such conversation with Martha, Armin allowed his mind to turn over everything he'd learned since being rescued from death by the strange alien.

He didn't necessarily have to go anywhere with the man. After all, he was unattached to anyone now. He didn't have any real purpose. Not beyond learning and discovering new things about the world. He could probably travel by himself if he really wanted. His brows furrowed in thought. Or could he? After all, he was a nobody in this world, a ghost, with ties to only one or two people, who they themselves seemed to live almost as ghosts too, if Martha was really telling the truth about her working for the mysterious UNIT. He had no money. He didn't know how to get from one place to another, at least not without difficulty. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to find a place to live if he had to. Martha had already offered to help him with that, saying she'd be more than happy to provide a roof over his head until he'd sorted some things out. She'd even offered to get him a starting position with UNIT, apparently being impressed enough with his intellect to think that he would carve out a noted position for himself in little time.

And Armin appreciated the offer, he really did.

But as he stroked the red cotton scarf now practically permanently wound around his neck, he felt his mind filled with images of dead bodies and blood. Bodies of children who never had a chance to properly grow up because they'd become sodiers so young. His fingers tightened around the fabric. He didn't want to be a soldier anymore. Not right now. He didn't want to be used by someone else. He wanted to live for himself, and the memories of his fallen comrades. Besides, he felt restless. The idea of staying in one place, at least right now, was completely unappealing to him.

If he decided to go with the Doctor, he might end up dead, or with no memory of his time with him, or even trapped in another dimension. Was that something he was willing to risk? Was he prepared to put his life on the line for this stranger, who he hardly knew? This stranger who'd inadvertently harmed so many people?

Armin immediately knew the answer to that. No. He wasn't willing to risk life and limb for this man. Not yet , anyway. But, the chance to see a world without boundaries, to see the universe in all it's vast glory...he smiled to himself. That was something worth dying for.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do. Now all he had to do was wait for the Doctor.

It was almost midnight later that evening when Armin heard the door to his room open with a barely-audible 'click', quickly followed by the sound of the soft tapping of feet cautiously approaching.

When Armin turned his head to face the doorway, he was un-surprised to see the lanky, wobbly figure of the Doctor, hovering just a few feet from his cot, his expression uncertain.

Armin smiled at him, inwardly relieved to know that his initial thoughts about the Doctor abandoning him had been incorrect.

"Hello Doctor." he greeted kindly.

The man stayed in place, continuing to sway slightly on his feet, a look of indecision plain on his features.

"Good evening Armand-Armin. " he corrected himself awkwardly. "I'd heard you'd been asking for me."

Armin's lips quirked upward in amusement. "Martha?"

The Doctor gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. "Martha."

Armin began smoothing out his sheets nonchalantly, his hands fidgeting as he tried to remember what it was he'd wanted to say to the odd man.

"I'm surprised she was able to find you. The way she put it, it sounded like you'd be impossible to locate."

The Doctor didn't respond immediately, instead choosing to put his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on his own feet.

Finally he let out a small huff. "Well, Martha knows that I'll never completely disappear if I think there's a slight chance someone might need me." he said carefully.

The young man nodded, understanding the message inherent in the Doctor's words.

He licked his lips a bit anxiously. "Doctor," he started quietly "Thank you."

He raised his head, attempting as well as he could to sound confident, his eyes boring into the Doctor's, whose face now squinted directly at him, curious. "Thank you for saving me. I'm glad I get a second chance to live."

As the doctor continued to stare at him shrewdly, apparently still unsure how to respond, Armin took a long, deep breathe and dug his curled fingers into the sheets, bracing himself.

"And, if it's all the same to you, I think I'd like to take you up on that offer of yours, if it's still available, I mean." His steady, forceful gaze met the Doctor's shrewd one. "I'd like to see the world Doctor – The Universe. I'd like to see all of it. If you'll let me."

The words hung there in the air, as the two continued to stare each other down, the Doctor never moving his piercing eyes off of Armin, as Armin himself continued to offer up his own intense gaze in return.

Finally, The Doctor began chuckling, softly at first, until it quickly crescendoed into a loud guffawing so loud that it startled Armin out of his expression of determination to be replaced with a look of concern. After what had to have been several minutes of this, the laughing Doctor finally straightened, wiping moisture from the corners of his eyes as he fixed Armin with a fond grin.

"Oh, My dear Armando," Armin's temple throbbed a bit "I never doubted you for a second." He trotted over to Armin's cot, plopping himself down into the chair nearest him, hunching over and rubbing his hands excitedly. "So," he asked, a playful lilt to his lips "When do we leave?"