Her excitement as she walks towards her apartment after work to pick up Tsui's little Honda is so thick that Maka feels light headed. The last day had been tedious and a blur all at once, going through the motions because she has to in order to see Soul again. But now-now it's time, and the drive alone feels like too much. She just wants to be there, in his arms, to replay their time together two days ago, to be that close again. And sure, she realizes she's taken a swan dive, that she's ten feet underwater and sinking fast, but it's like she's a mermaid coming home, coming to a place where she can truly breathe.

Music blasting, Maka drives the desert stretch to get to him with the windows down, basking in the heated wind and the knowledge that she'll be there soon, soon. The thirty minute drive isn't long, not in the scheme of things, but it feels like an eternity before she arrives at the little road off the small highway, before she reaches the canyon mouth and parks.

The walk to his cave has become habit, the trees visible to her since he'd woven her into the spell. She loves the trees, loves this oasis in the middle of the desolation of Death Valley he calls home.

A wide smile breaks across her features as Soul is waiting there on the path to the cave, waiting for her, and as his own smile breaks to mirror hers, she finds herself rushing into his arms, lips seeking his eagerly.

The kiss is heated and full of promise, full of the same want that had driven them two days ago, and Maka feels giddy. This. Yes, this.

She is wrenched away suddenly, forcefully, and thrown to the ground. There is pain and confusion, but more than anything, there is the vision of a man with a wicked blade lunging for Soul, and she doesn't think, she acts.

Primal scream on her lips, Maka lunges to push Soul out of the way, taking the slice meant for him to her arm in the process. It hurts, she can already feel the wet heat of her own blood, but she has to focus.

Standing in a defensive crouch over where she's pushed Soul, she glares at their attacker. He isn't tall but he's got some wiry, compact muscle visible beneath his black t-shirt and dark jeans. His greasy, dark hair hangs down, limp and stringy on his shoulders, and his dark eyes are trained on her, calculating. The sword is strange and incongruous with his modern appearance, a long, wicked, curved blade.

His laugh, an amused chuckle, she does not expect. "Ah, don't worry, I plan to spare you, warlock lover. Did you know your little blond boyfriend at the coffee shop gave up that you and the warlock are together, blubbering like a fool at the bar?" His smile is as wicked as the curve of his blade and the urge to kick his teeth in is strong. "I owe you my gratitude, really-following you was my in. In truth, I was merely passing through. This is such a clever set up; I never would have suspected a warlock out here without your boy toy cluing me in. So if you have any kind of brain in that little head of yours, you'll very kindly step aside."

His words sting. Hiro had-so this was her fault. All her fault.

"Fuck off," Maka spits back at him, rage filling her. This man lives to kill people like Soul, lives to kill the one she loves.

Soul doesn't stand a chance against him. He's long since explained that hunters are able to neutralize most magic as a function of their nature; a divergence from those who can wield magic is those who are immune to it. While they cannot bypass the most powerful offensive spells, the type of magic lost to lore, anything Soul could try would be wasted energy. Hand to hand is the way to fight them, and Soul lacks that training.

Maka, on the other hand, knows how to fight. She resolves to fight for them both.

The lack of weapon is less than ideal, but she's confident in her skills. She lunges, hoping to feint and sweep his legs, but he anticipates her move and she finds herself on the defensive.

Crap. The guy can fight.

"Since you're so keen on protecting him." The swordsman steps closer, taking an offensive stance. "You can die with him!"

Fully expecting the lunge, Maka sidesteps easily and manages to send him stumbling wide, whirling to an offensive position, but offense is largely wasted when he has a blade with reach and she's left with her fists. Hearing the scuffle of Soul scrambling to her feet behind her, she barks, "Stay," but it doesn't stop him from approaching her back.

"Let me help. This is my fight, Maka, not yours. Mine."

"No," she hisses. "This is my fault, and I'll-"

She never gets to finish as the swordsman lunges, and before she can even think to react, Maka finds herself shoved to the ground again, this time by Soul. Her world goes still, momentum against her as the sword connects, arcing across the warlock's chest in a bloody line.

As his body crumples and the swordsman lunges back, assessing, she screams.

Her world is ending, collapsed to the pathway next to the water in a bloody heap, and she sobs in helpless despair as she scrambles to Soul, cradling his limp form to her chest, utterly lost.

He'd taken the blow for her, for her. Maka hadn't protected him, had brought this upon him and failed them both. His eyes are closed and there's so much blood and she doesn't know what to do. MMA tournaments haven't trained her for this.

A dark chuckle draws her eyes and she sees the man standing smugly a few feet away.

"Take your time. It won't change your fate."

There are no words, no words. Words have always come to her, the English major, the girl who longs to share her love of words in a classroom, but there are none. Instead, her rage and grief bubble out in a second scream-an animal sound wrought of pain, grief, despair, an echo of the deepest reaches of her soul-and suddenly there is light. Maka senses it, the magic, sees it arcing from Soul in a crashing wave of destruction, though he isn't awake, feels it, hot and angry as it envelops the man coming at them.

Surprise is all the reaction the hunter has time for as he disintegrates before them, the destructive heat and force so all consuming that not even a speck of ash is left behind.

Maka doesn't have time to be stunned, to wonder what happened, to wonder how such magic had come from Soul when he is bleeding out in her arms, unaware, magic he's claimed to be impossible, magic he's claimed not to know. She doesn't have time for relief when he's hurt and she doesn't know how to help him. Breathe. Breathe. She can't help him if she doesn't breathe.

Inspect the wound, that's the first step. The cut isn't that deep, which is something, but it's long and he's lost a lot of blood. There is so much soaking both of them that her world is red red red, as red as his eyes. He's dying, she can feel it, and she doesn't know what to do. Focus, Maka, focus.

Soul needs help, needs a doctor, but they are so far from a hospital. Even getting him to her car in this state will be difficult, and Maka has to-stop the bleeding-something. She tries to remember her first aid training, but it's not enough, she knows that. Whatever she does, it won't be enough, there isn't time. The tears start to fall, down her cheek and mixing with his blood. She has to try. Stupid stupid stupid.

"I just want you to be okay!" she cries out in her frustration, in her despair, because she doesn't know how to make that happen and he's going to die, Soul's going to die, and she refuses that reality, absolutely refuses.

There is light again, a brilliant flash, but this time it's different. It's warm, but not hot. Soothing. It washes over them both in waves and she feels the pain in her arm that she's been ignoring fade, gone with the light and the heat.

When the light dissipates, Maka looks down and sees red, but this time it's not the blood but his eyes as Soul smiles up at her fondly, reaches a hand to wipe the tears that still streak her cheeks.

"Maka," he breathes and it's reverent.

He stands, pulling her up with him to face her, and she blinks. Maybe she's lost too much blood and this is the type of fever dream she had feared when he first revealed his magic. He can't be standing there, smiling at her so lovingly, can't be.

"Soul?" Maka tries to blink away her confusion because she refuses to concoct a beautiful dream if the reality is they're both bleeding out. The tears return because he's standing, he's whole, and this can't be real.

"It's okay," Soul pulls her close, wipes her tears again. "Hey-hey-I'm okay." And as if to prove it, he presses his lips to hers, warm and salty with her tears. It's precious, it's life, but it lasts only a moment before he sways and she has to steady him.

"You've lost so much blood, Soul. We should-we need to go in and you need rest. I don't know-I don't know how you're even standing, but we should check your wound, make sure-"

"I'm okay," Soul repeats, but lets her lead him inside, lets her pull him into his bedroom. Maka sits him on his bed, a place she's rarely seen but she'd hoped to see more of today, just not like this. Never like this.

Her hands are gentle as she sits beside him, working aside the tear in his t-shirt-red, so red-to find where he's been cut. There is drying blood smeared over his chest, but the gaping wound she expects to find doesn't exist. Maka runs her fingers where it should be and marvels at the scar she finds instead, puckered and angry, marvels that she finds his flesh healed and whole. She remembers her own wound and checks it, and it, too, has only a scar.

"How?" Her eyes move to his, then back down to his scar, and she gawks. Her fingers return to trace the scar.

Glancing down himself, just as stunned, Soul shakes his head. "I don't-I don't know, Maka." He grasps her hand, the one fingering the scar over his heart. "But I think you saved me." His free hand finds the place where she should be bleeding, smoothing over her new scar. "Saved us both."

"No," she shakes her head vehemently. "I didn't-how--"

"I don't know. But-fuck, I was so afraid, Maka, so damn afraid." His eyes move to meet hers again, pained. "It was just like BJ all over again. The guy came out of nowhere. I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting you and there wasn't a damn thing I could do."

"It was my fault, Soul, I led him here, I-"

Squeezing her hand, he cuts her off. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I had forgotten that asshole from your work might have seen something. I caused this, not you."

"You didn't-"

"It was just like BJ," he repeats. "BJ told me never to go out when there's no rain, fucking told me, and I thought he was exaggerating, full of shit. I led the pack of hunters right to us, and now, I did it again. Fuck. Fuck."

"It's not your fault, Soul. You can't help being hunted. You can't."

"I should have listened," he's distraught, eyes unfocused, thoughts caught somewhere in the past in a clear haze of blood loss. "I should have. He sent me here, did I tell you that? When he saw them coming, he made me run and held them off and sent me here. Even then, I didn't listen, though." He laughs, a bitter sound. "I dove in the lake near the house and I hid and I waited, waited hours like a coward and ventured out late to find his body sprawled in the living room, cut to shreds. My fault, Maka. BJ was the only warlock I knew, found me and took me in and taught me and eventually died for me because I couldn't fucking listen, and now you-"

"You can't help being hunted," Maka repeats, and she leans in, ignoring the wet she feels as she cradles his head to her chest. "You didn't know, Soul. You didn't."

Her heart is breaking, for him, for them.

For a time, she just holds him, but his breathing evens eventually and she murmurs his name.

His lack of response is telling. She repeats it, "Soul?" and he yawns against her.

"'M sleepy," he mutters.

"Sleep," she says softly, pushing his body towards the bed and helping him lay.

It's not long before he's snoring softly. She arranges covers over him from the foot of the bed and pushes back his hair, kissing his forehead softly.

Maka steels her resolve. This is goodbye because it has to be. The hunter finding Soul, hurting Soul, that's her fault and hers alone and she will not be a danger to him. Soul told her some time ago that hunters work alone. This one had only just followed her, and now he's dead. No more can find him if she stays away; even the hunter had said he never expected a warlock here. If she goes and never comes back, Soul will stay safe.

That's all that matters.

Her heart cracks in her chest as she pens a short note. Her hurt doesn't matter.

I can't see you anymore. I'm dangerous to you. Stay safe.

Leaving it on the nightstand, Maka makes her way out and to her friend's car and away, meaning to never, never return.

It really is true, she thinks as she drives home, blinking back tears, as she remembers their time together and the night they had shared before it was all torn apart, torn to shreds.

Nothing gold can stay.

It stays dry for weeks.

Her note had said she wouldn't be back and Maka keeps to that, but it hurts. She's missing her heart and she doesn't know how to stop the pain, but she has to keep him safe.

So she goes through the motions. It's like before, in a way, when the rains had stopped and the sun had come and he had gone with the clouds, but this time, she has purpose. Maka is keeping him safe, and that's important. It doesn't matter how much her heart bleeds, how much her soul aches, how much she feels like she's missing half herself; if he's safe, she can manage. If Soul is safe, she can live her life without him.

It doesn't help that she's been seeing magic. At least, Maka is pretty sure it's magic. There is a light to everyone she sees now, resting deep in their chests. In most people, it's faint, nearly undetectable, but there are a few who glow brightly. Kim is one of them, though she can't tell what that means. But it's magic, has to be. In her time with Soul, she had taken it upon herself to read some of the books BJ had left him and one had insisted there was a spark of magic in everyone, a spark of life some would call the soul. In magical people, that light is just stronger, just more.

Maka resolves to research it further when the semester ends in a few weeks. Maybe she no longer has access to BJ's extensive library, but if the college had that book on warlocks, they might have other books that could help. Even if she can't see Soul anymore, she'd like to know what it is she sees, would like to understand how. Though she has seen traces of odd things since she met him, it really started the night he almost died, and she can't help but wonder why. She still doesn't understand what happened then, how the hunter died, how Soul was healed, how she was healed herself, and she wants to know. It eats at her that she doesn't. In a way, the curiosity is welcome if it helps her forget the pain just a little.

Then again, the pain is constant. She's numb. She's empty. Everything reminds her of Soul. Everything is different, now, changed, and she can't get her old life back, not really.

At least Hiro quit the cafe.

It's her fault, her doing, and she isn't sorry-not for lying to him and not for driving him away. Soul could have died because of him, they both could have. Furious, she'd stormed into work the night she returned, knowing he was on shift. She was covered in blood still, hadn't cleaned up, made a scene because she wanted to make a point. To keep Soul safe, she had to make sure Hiro never ran his mouth again.

"You!" she had shrieked as she flung the door wide.

It was near closing and the shop was always dead that time of night midweek. There'd been only Hiro along with Patti, the other closer. Maka had nodded to Patti, a quick gesture to indicate she wanted her gone, and Patti knew her well enough to comply quickly. She'd hear about it from her friend later-Patti might have been out of sight but she wasn't out of earshot-but for now, Maka needed Hiro to feel alone and isolated.

"Maka, wha-" Hiro had gaped, stammered.

"You told some crazy asshole Soul is some sort of wizard and he attacked us!" She waved a hand pointedly over the blood covering her.

"I-I-" Maka had stepped closer, then, fisting his shirt. "I-I saw him! He made you float! I saw-and I was drunk, and you-"

"He's a street magician, Hiro! What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you know a damn illusion when you see one?!"

"No-" he shook his head insistently. "I saw-god, did he really attack you?" Hiro had looked so stricken in that moment, blue eyes watery with unshed moisture, that Maka softened just a bit. After all, he couldn't have known that the guy was a crazy asshole who would hunt them down. He really couldn't have.

"He almost killed us, Hiro." She loosened her hands and stepped back. "He came at us with a sword-a goddamn sword. We barely got away, and he managed to slice my arm." There was dried blood caked on the small slice to her forearm, and though it had somehow healed, uncleaned, it still looked gruesome.

His head in his hands, Hiro shook it. "God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Remember how you were thinking about transferring to go back to Cali, go to school near your parents? You should."

"I-already got accepted at UCI." He had looked almost hopeful at that, like he was looking for something.

"Good. Go. If you're hallucinating cheap magic tricks into fairy stories, you clearly need to get out of the heat."

His face had fallen.

"Yeah-I-yeah. It just looked so real. But it couldn't be. Your-your boyfriend," he had spoken around the word with distaste, "is a really good magician. He should try going to Vegas, he'd-"

"And after what you did," Maka cut him off. She had no patience for small talk and he was clearly seeing things her way. "I never want to see you again after tonight. I'll even help Pat close out the till since it's time. Do we understand each other?"

Her frown was menacing with her clenched fists, her stiff posture. Hiro had been to one of her matches, had seen what she could do. He'd swallowed and nodded and while Maka thinks she's since spied yellow hair and spikes from a distance on campus, she hasn't really seen him since.

Mission accomplished.

Just as Maka doesn't feel bad about lying to Hiro, though she didn't usually like lying, just as she has no remorse over driving him away, she also didn't feel sorry for the man who died, obliterated somehow by Soul's magic. The hunter had been trying to kill them, would have succeeded if not for the magic, and she feels only relief at his passing.

It's been three weeks since that night, three weeks of ache and loneliness and her friends wondering what happened to Soul and trying to soothe her as she replies, simply, that she'd broken it off. Patti speculates that it has something to do with the bloody shirt incident with Hiro, but has the decency to stop bringing it up when Maka looks stricken every time she does.

She can't talk about it. She wishes she could, there's so much to sort through that she needs her friends more than ever, but she can't, refuses to put Soul in more danger. Tsu forces her out several times, as do Liz and Patti. It doesn't really help, can't, though she does welcome the distraction. Sparring with Tsubaki and Blake is therapeutic in the short term, though it can't erase the hurt, and while the clubs Liz and Patti drag her to are loud and gross, it's nice to get lost in the music for a few hours.

Even if music just reminds her of him.

When Maka gets off work one afternoon, it's raining for the first time since she last saw Soul. The storm has been hovering for hours, but there's a lull, so it's only sprinkling. She's forgotten an umbrella, but the moisture is light, barely there, so it's really not a problem. She basks in the coolness against her skin and thinks of a time not so long ago when she wouldn't have made this walk alone. She misses him so damn much, wonders how he's doing, wonders if he misses her, too. But missing him is familiar now, so she lets it wash over her, the ache and the emptiness, as she walks.

Her feet steer her towards school. Maka doesn't have class tonight, but finals are next week and she could use the time to study. Finding herself in the little copse, she sighs. She comes here sometimes when he's on her mind. She likes it, likes the green of the trees, an oddity in the desert that's kept healthy by the groundskeepers, likes that it reminds her of that day he had finally told her the truth, likes that it reminds her of his little oasis she'll never see again. When she stands like this, thinking of him, her skin cool with slight moisture, she can almost feel him close, can almost sense him in that way that had become familiar as they got closer.

But there are footsteps, the rustling of grass and underbrush, and the last thing she wants is to be social, so she opens her eyes.

She expects a stranger, but it's not, it's Soul, standing there holding out his umbrella.

"Maka." The reverence in his tone thrills her and breaks her and makes her anew.

"How are you here? Why are you here? I thought I told you-"

"Just-I know," he cuts her off. "You told me you didn't want to see me, but I missed you, fuck did I miss you. Waiting for rain was hell, but I couldn't put you in danger again, so I waited, and then I waited outside the cafe and I followed you here and there's something you need to know, okay? Once we're done here, you can tell me to fuck off and I will Maka, I swear I will, but you have to know the truth first. Just. Please?"

It's starting to rain harder now and she has no coat, just a thin shirt and skirt, and while the trees shield them, fat drops begin to slip through. Soul steps closer and she lets him, lets him share his umbrella. The pull she feels to him is so strong, stronger than when they met, the need to be close buzzing along her skin and through her soul. He sounds so desperate and it hurts, she hurts, but what choice is there? Still, he's here now. She can stand beside him. She can listen. They both deserve as much.

Maka swallows and nods. "Okay, you can-you can tell me."

The sigh he breathes melts her heart that little bit more. She feels him. With him close again, the numbness is gone, the ache. There is pain, yes, as there must be, but his pain is her pain, his relief hers, too.

Soul talks and she listens.

"Remember when I said you saved me?" She nods slowly. "You did. You killed the hunter, you healed me, healed us both. That was all you, Maka. Not me and not a fluke, you."

"But I don't have magic. So I couldn't-"

"You didn't have magic," Soul agrees. "But now-now you have mine." There is a hope in his eyes, a brightness, and Maka feels that hope like a beacon.

"That-that doesn't make sense."

"We're soulmates, Maka. That's why-it's why I can sense you, feel you. Why I was so drawn to you. Wasn't it the same for you? That connection we both felt?" She nods, slow, careful. "So when we got closer-when we-" he colors fiercely, cheeks flashing red "-were together, it sort of, strengthened our bond. Cemented it, I guess. And when we were threatened, even though I was out of it, even though you didn't know what you were doing, your soul sort of-took over. Directed my magic towards the hunter, then used it to heal us both."

She's shaking her head, because while Maka supposes that makes a strange sort of sense, there's part of it that doesn't. "But your magic can't do that, Soul. You told me you couldn't. That you could make things less painful but couldn't close more than a scratch, and that you're helpless against a hunter. So how-how could I use your magic to heal or to-to kill."

"Because we're soulmates," Soul repeats. "Because being bound to you bolsters me, makes my magic stronger, because we bolster each other. We-" he searches her gaze "-we share a soul. Our souls were always connected, always, but now they are inextricably intertwined."

"Oh," she breathes. So that's why. Why she can feel him. Why he feels like the part of her she'd never known she was missing. "Is that-I've been seeing things, Soul. This-this light in the center of everyone, and sometimes it's stronger, like with you-is that because-because of this, because of us?"

"Yeah," he says. "It's-the soulmate of a warlock, they usually gain sight. Most warlocks can't see magical auras, but if they have a soulmate, the soulmate can see them. It's even possible hunters actually originate from soulmate pairings, I guess, it's why they have the sight." He's rambling and she can feel he's nervous. He's waiting, anticipating. Maka is, too, in her way.

"But-" she purses her lips in thought. "How do you know?"

"Eh." Soul scratches the back of his neck. "Believe it or not, I read about it. After you-after-I sort of didn't know what to do with myself and I needed to figure shit out, so I started looking through BJ's books, and I found my answers. We're bound. And that's-I mean, warlocks are rare, right? But warlock soulmates are like-rare even among warlocks. When there were more of us, there might be a handful of pairs in a generation, but now?" He shakes his head. "And it's powerful. You saw that. And-well, I know you don't want to see me, but I'm not sure that's possible for us anymore. Soulmates who part, they grow weak, they grow sick. It hurts the mind and the spirit. And-I mean, even if that weren't true, I love you Maka, I hate being apart. But I thought you should know that. And I really just-want to be together again, if you'll let us. That's-that's all I came here to say, I guess."

"Okay," she says. It's not even a thought. She meant to protect him by leaving, but it seems she'll just hurt him that way, too, hurt herself in the process, and that's not worth it.

"Okay?" he breathes.

"Yeah." He's leaning close and she knows he wants to kiss her, but she puts a hand up, stopping him by the chin. "I love you, too, and I want to be together. But. There are conditions."

"Con-ditions?" He looks so confused; it's cute.

"Conditions," Maka insists. "One," she removes her hand from his chin as she begins. "I'm moving to the grotto. There's no reason for me to stay away, and I don't like being apart. It'll be a pain, but I can drive back and forth to stuff if I suck it up and get a car of my own, and we're safer there."

"Done." He's beaming. She's pretty sure she is as well.

"Two," she continues. "You apply at DCU. You get that music degree you always talk about."

His smile falters. "But the hunters. We're in the desert-they'll find us."

Her answering smile is grim. "Let them, Soul. I don't want to live in fear. Do you? We're stronger together, you said it yourself. Your magic is stronger now. You weren't awake, you didn't see what happened with that hunter, but I did, and I say, let them come if they dare."

Soul swallows and nods. "Okay." As his nodding continues, his face looks more hopeful. "Yeah, okay. It'd be nice to just-to be like normal people, normal couples. See movies and go to classes and go out in the damn sunshine. So okay, yeah, we can do that, you're right."

"Damn straight I'm right."

There's a pause as they look at each other, breaking into matching smiles.

"So, is that it?"

"Almost. Just one more thing. Three." She leans closer. "I expect more visits to the hot spring."

"Yeah?" His voice is suddenly husky, his eyes molten.

"Yeah."

He grasps her chin and closes the rest of the distance between them, kissing her, and it's right, it's home.

Maybe it won't always be easy, maybe nothing gold can stay, but he can, and for Maka, that's all that really matters.