AN: This is not an ending I'm happy with, but Resbang is drawing to a close and I need to finish this story. I'll definitely be editing it more after I catch up on sleep (I've literally been surviving on coffee grounds mixed into food so I can stay awake and post this on my phone from the bathroom at the place where I work). So please don't judge me too harshly. I've always planned an extensive epilogue/omake and there are a ton of scenes which I had to cut from this due to time constraints and for brevity, but they'll be available in a companion series that will answer all questions and tie up all loose ends. I spent 6 months agonizing over this so trust me when I say there are not going to be loose ends left over after I have my way.

By the time that she and Ox finished their conversation, the opera was over, and patrons were beginning to leak into the hallways, bleeding out into the space near the window she had occupied for the past half hour.

In a daze, she followed them down to the main lobby and out to the curb where the cabs were queueing for pickup. The night air was cold on her skin, but she barely felt it.

"Maka?"

She turned to see Soul striding through the throngs of people toward her.

Maka ignored his questions as he asked her where she had gone, what Ox had been doing talking to her.

"I need to be alone for awhile, Soul. Please tell Wes I am riding back to the hotel with Lady Tsubaki."

Soul looked like he had been slapped in the face. "What's going on? Maka, are you alright?" He stepped closer and said very seriously, "Did he hurt you?"

"No! He did nothing to me, besides tell me the truth!"

"What- Maka, what did he say to you?"

"When were you planning on telling me about your family's financial troubles? About the debt that you owe to Miss Helburn's family?"

Soul swallowed visibly, his eyes darting around as he tried to find the right words.

But Maka was tired of waiting for Soul to find the right words. She turned on her heel and began marching down the cobblestone street, while Soul dashed behind her, dodging patrons and trying to keep abreast of her descent. In this he had the upper hand, for Maka's mobility was limited by her gown.

"Just stop for a moment and talk to me," he begged, drawing close enough to close his fingers gently over her wrist.

She spun around to face him, and annoyed opera patrons began filing past them in great streams while she and Soul struggled.

"You want to talk? What is there to talk about? You're marrying Anya and I'm going on my way– there's no reason for me to stay."

"Maka–" Soul implored, still holding her wrist.

"Let me finish!" She pulled away and swiped angrily at her eyes. Loose hair had begun to obscure her face from sight, but he thought there might have been tears.

"Ox Ford will be traveling across the world, studying dialects, and he needs someone to assist him in his notekeeping. He's asked me to come with him, and become his assistant."

Soul froze. "Become his assistant?"

Maka nodded, hardly daring to look him in the eye.

"You have more intelligence and creativity in your pinky finger than Ox has in his entire, oversized head."

"You're not taking this very well."

"I'm sorry, Maka. Congratulations. Or is it too early for that? Is he going to make you his wife, too?"

If he had expected anger or defensiveness, he was disappointed. She looked downward. "He– has indicated his willingness to make me a more permanent figure in his life… But he has not put me in the position of having to give him an answer yet."

"And?"

"I have hardly prepared an answer for a question which has been as yet unforthcoming."

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?" She seethed.

"I said, bullshit. You'd be miserable with Ox. You'd get bored of being his notekeeper and you'd get angry when your ideas are passed over and ignored in favor of that talentless prick."

"That's unbelievable, coming from you– Everything you've ever done since I've met you was to deny your own desires and do what you think would make your brother happy, and it's clearly made you both miserable–"

"Shut up! Don't pretend you know anything about me or my brother."

"No, how could I? I'm just a poor girl from the East End, just a doll to dress up and play with and throw away when the fun's all over! Dolls aren't allowed to be people, with wants, and plans, and feelings. And that's the problem, isn't it?"

"Maka, I–"

"Oh, but you rich people know how to solve that, don't you? Did you think you could just throw some pretty jewelry at me and all would be forgiven? Am I so low, in your estimation, that my dignity can be mended by material gain?"

"That's not what that was about!"

"Then what was it? You can't keep running and hiding from your problems, Soul. You're throwing your life away, living like this!"

"You're the one who's throwing everything away!"

He was angry, and so was she, both of them breathing hard and only inches away– their faces nearly touching and their voices raised more than was necessary to be heard over the swirling snow.

"There's nothing for me here! You're marrying Miss Hepburn and I– I don't want to–"

"To what?"

"I don't want to stay and watch you being happy with someone else!"

"I'll never be happy with anyone else!"

They both paused, the full weight of what had been said sinking over them both.

m both.

"Maka, look at me," Soul brought his arms up to rest on her shoulders, bracing her against him as he gazed imploringly into her eyes.

"There is no happy ending with Anya. I just told her– just now, on the balcony, how I felt. That I couldn't marry her and we'd never be right together. Do you know what she said?"

"What– you–"

"Do you know what she said?" Soul repeated urgently.

"N-n- how could I?" Anger was the best bet. Because if she allowed herself to hope then she would shatter. In his arms, this near to him, she was so close to betraying her resolve. Her body ached for his touch, and she felt the heat of his fingers through her thin shawl– stoking a shameful, traitorous heat elsewhere in her body.

"She told me not to even finish, said that she would convince her father to forgive all the debt. Said it was the least she could do for the people who saved her sister's life. And then she told me to go find you." His eyes raked over her, and his gaze was hungry and so, so serious and she felt as though she were going to catch fire from the heat between them.

"Okay, well, you've– you've found me, so– I–" she stuttered. Could it really change anything?

"Maka, Maka, please." He was holding her hands between them now, earnest and determined. "We can be good together. I know we can, I– shit, I don't know how to speak worth a damn. If you only knew– how I feel–"

"How you feel? How you feel? What about how I feel?" She cried, trying to pull away from him. "We'd be destitute, Soul. I have nothing to offer you."

"I don't care about the money, Maka! The money doesn't matter. I'd follow you to the ends of the earth."

"You say that now," she spat bitterly. "But didn't you say that was your idea of– of Hell, being dependent on Wes for the rest of your life, never standing on your own? How can I–" she refused to cry, but her eyes were watering nonetheless, "How can I – let you suffer like that? And then to know, that I was the cause, because of selfish– because I selfishly thought we could be happy–"

"My idea of hell," he growled, "Is being without you."

"But–"

"If I married Anya, if I let you go, I'd regret it for the rest of my life. You're the one who said I needed to stop running away from my problems. Well, I'm not running away anymore."

"Soul," she whispered. His collar flapped in the wind and she wound her hands into it, surprising him, pulling him closer, down, down, until his lips were on hers, and then she let herself go.

It was like diving into water, or maybe catching on fire– it was sudden and it was irrevocable. The kiss was nothing gentle, nothing sweet. It was everything she had feared. Kissing Soul opened the floodgates of yearning she had kept hidden and buried since she'd gotten to know him on the train, since she'd heard his piano, since she'd fallen in love with him. Desire roared through her and overpowered any resistance it encountered along the way– her hands were twisting into his hair, and her tongue was scraping against his sharp, sharp teeth, and he was gasping and she was pressing herself to him, needing to feel him closer, as close as two people could be.

Still, she had to try to resist. "I won't do it to you, I won't– ruin you."

"Maka Albarn," Soul said, pulling away with a rueful smile. "You couldn't ruin me if you tried."

Those of you who read on past my disclaimers, I'm going to reiterate that there is a forthcoming companion series that clears up what happens from here on out. dont kill me