Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

Drown Proof
by. Poisoned Scarlett

All he wants to do is return to the hotel and catch up on his lost hours of sleep. He hadn't gotten much rest on the plane, as Maka continuously nudged him off her shoulder with the apologetic whisper of it falling asleep on her. There was no way he could fall asleep sitting upright, fearing for kinks in his neck and waking up sore, so he had suffered with minor bouts of sleeplessness until Maka took pity on him and let him rest his head on her lap for the rest of the flight.

Yet the day fled so soon, already beginning to dim as they stood before the corrupted soul of their latest assignment. But not even devouring the soul of the wicked could fill Soul with enough energy to deal with what just appeared before them as if it had been waiting for them all this time.

"You have got to be kidding me," Soul groans, his eyes falling upon the second monster that came after the first they just defeated. Its jaws gnash as it approaches them, a snarl sounding. "We better get paid extra for this one."

"We'll just have to get rid of it, too. Soul." Maka orders, and he doesn't need to be told twice before he transforms and falls into her hand. Maka twirls him once, allowing him to come to rest on her shoulder while the beast stops its predatory march. Maka watches with a sense of satisfaction as it begins to back away, brave enough to keep up its growling as it prepares to run.

"Finish it, Maka." Soul grins, feeling drool begin to pool in his mouth. "I'm still hungry..."

"On it!" Maka beams up at him, gaining after the creature just as it darts away from them. She curses when she loses sight of it a block into the chase, looking around and immediately taking another path that has less bystanders. She hears Soul question her direction but she only smiles, taking a sharp turn and continuing down that narrowing alley. She would cross paths with the cowardly Kishin soon enough if she timed it right.

Maka had taken this mission from the mission board more out of a reason to travel to Ireland than anything else. It was another normal Kishin hunt meant for the first and seconds years but there were plenty of other suitable missions for those students to take that were closer to home than this one. Maka hadn't felt as guilty for taking the mission, and hadn't regretted the decision once she arrived.

Her mother had sent her a postcard from the small town of Wicklow, Ireland once. She had also attached quite a number of photos and succeeded in fascinating Maka with the town. The instant the mission was posted on the mission board, Maka had been one of the firsts to rip it off and claim it for her own. The town was as beautiful as the pictures captured it to be and she had not been an inkling disappointed when she arrived by ferry with her partner snoozing beside her. She just wishes she'd brought her camera with her instead of leaving it in the hotel room.

"Over there!" Soul shouts, drawing her attention to the creature that scurried along the port. She grows annoyed when she loses sight of it again but hears a splash. The monster dove into the water for safety.

Maka stops by the edge of the boardwalk, pressing her lips together when she sees nothing disturb the surface of the dark waters. The sun hangs low on the horizon: they would need to call it a night soon if they couldn't eliminate this Kishin tonight. "It got away," Maka frowns.

"Can you sense it with your Soul Perception?" Soul asks.

"Yes, it's in there. It's waiting for us to leave." Maka narrows her eyes. She can almost see it swimming below the cold waters, anticipating her turning her around so that it may jump out and claw into her. But Maka was always one step ahead of her opponents. "We'll catch it when we leave."

"Uh, how will you catch it if we leave?" Soul asks, raising a brow at his meister.

"Easy, it'll follow us. Then we'll catch it." Maka replies matter-of-factly, about to back away from the edge when she catches motion to the side of her. She faces a man that stands with his side shown to her by the boardwalk; gazing down into the water. He dresses heavily: with a thick, gray, overcoat and black slacks and a maroon scarf. She can see the dull shine of dress shoes peek from beneath the fabric of his pants, his long black hair tied back by the nape of his neck. "Excuse me, sir! But could you please step away from the edge? A Kishin we're chasing jumped into the water and it could leap out at any moment!" Maka shouts, nearing the man who barely seems to hear her. "Sir?"

"Hey! You got a death wish, old man?" Soul snaps, transforming into his human counterpart. The man turns thoughtfully, in time to watch Soul shift back into a human with a flash of light. "Move it!"

"Soul!" Maka hisses, but the man is unfazed by Soul's irritation.

"Are you the two who chased my pet into the ocean?" He asks with a light Irish accent.

"Pet?" Maka balks. "Sir, that's a demon! They're not to be treated as pets! They're highly dangerous—!"

"I asked you a question."

Maka's next words die on her lips, her eyes hardening at the frigid stare of this man. Soul begins to growl something but is quickly silenced by Maka, who steps forward and reaches into the disguised pocket in her pleated skirt for her identification. "Under orders of Lord Death, I demand you leave the premises this instant. This is not a place for a human to be right now."

"Human?" He smiles, and the smile sends a shiver down her back. Maka stands very still as the man takes a step to face her properly, giving her view of his cold ebony eyes and high cheek bones. "Whoever said I was human?"

"Maka," Soul rumbles in warning, taking a step forward in case the man made any sudden moves. "You read anything on this guy?"

"Nothing at all. His wavelength looks like any other humans." Maka replies, puzzled. But the sensation she's getting from him was anything but human. "He may be all talk…"

"Don't underestimate him." Soul says anyway, watching the man reach into his pocket and retrieve a regular white handkerchief. He blows his nose, as if nothing had just transpired between them. If he really was all talk, Soul thinks with a sneer, he was going to break his nose for riling them up like this. "Your move, Maka."

"If you're not human," Maka decides to humor the man. "Then just what are you?"

"How rude." The man scoffs. He crosses his arms behind him. "But if you must know, I am the warlock of Wicklow, ruler of the Irish islands since the eighteenth century. And those were my pets you were hunting, and I do not take lightly to those hunting my precious animals."

"Warlock of Wicklow port?" Soul snorts a laugh. "Couldn't you come up with a cooler name than that?"

"Soul, transform." Maka automatically commands.

"Huh?"

The man smiles sharply. "Soul? I've heard of that name before."

"You mean there's another guy with my name? I thought my parents were the only ones crazy enough to name their kid Soul!" Soul mutters, bewildered.

"Soul! Transform now, you idiot!" Maka snaps. "Don't you know who this guy is? He's the last warlock of the four that ruled Ireland hundreds of years ago: Ros Ulster! He used to dominate the Ulster kingdom before it became annexed by the English during the reign of James the first—!"

"Okay, okay! Cut the history lesson – is this guy dangerous or not?"

"YES!"

"Good enough for me!" Soul sneers, transforming back into a scythe. Maka falls into a defensive position, watching as Ros absently folds his handkerchief into a tiny triangle and replaces it in his breast pocket with an unrivaled calm. "I've never tasted a warlocks soul before…" Soul grins, darkly. "Can't wait."

"Are you finished?" Ros asks, disinterested. Maka narrows her eyes. "Good. Now, going back to my previous inquiry… you, the scythe. Are you Soul Eater Evans?"

"How do you know my name?" Soul demands, taking a quick look at Maka, who holds him to her chest protectively. "I know I'm cool, but I didn't think I was cool enough to be known all the way to Ireland."

"So you must be the young man who became Medusa's unfortunate experiment." Ros reveals, causing both meister and weapon to stand very still. "She considers you a failed experiment because of the black blood but I could make use of it. Or I could have, if you had come a few months earlier," Ros adds with a deeper displeasure. "Now I have no use for you."

"Cool story, bro." Soul smirks, glancing at Maka. "We'll be sure to write it in the report after we take your soul. Maka?"

"Right," Maka whispers, shaking herself from her shock. "Ros Ulster of Wicklow, your soul is mine!" Maka roars, resonating with Soul. Ros watches with intrigue as the pair triples in power right before his very eyes, the scythe shaping into a giant arc that glows with a dangerous light. The girl is quick on her feet, lifting the scythe over her head effortlessly as she approaches him with fire in her eyes. She seems strong, resilient, and fearless in battle. Ros wonders how long – how much – it takes for someone of this caliber to be reduced to mere ashes of what they once were as he breathes a spell under his breath and disappears from their line of attack.

"What—?" Maka gasps, braking to a stop and barely scratching the floor with the tip of her scythe. The wood creaks dangerously beneath her, warning her of no more close calls like this one. "Where'd he go?"

"OVER THERE!" Soul shouts, and Maka looks toward the rail. Ros stands atop it with his hands crossed over his chest, that tiny smile still gracing his aristocratic features. Shadows mar his face, as the sun sinks behind the hills, and Maka can see the unnatural glow of his black eyes as he observes them. "What're you waiting for, Maka? Get him before he can make a move!"

"No, Soul." Maka says, hesitantly.

"Why not? Just go for it!"

"No, wait! Let me think." Sid had delved into detail when he described the four warlocks of the Irish islands. The last and youngest, Ros Ulster, had disappeared after his brothers were all slaughtered by an army of Shibusen Special Operations units. And even so, three Deathscythe's with three meister's , all with extensive training and experience , were assigned the mission to exterminate them because of the danger they posed. One pair had been killed along with the warlock. One meister lost their life to the second brother. There were many other causalities amongst the Special Operations teams themselves.

Warlocks differed from witches greatly: they were stronger, able to control their destructive urges better than witches could. Their witchcraft also focused less on being tricky and more on raw strength – manipulation and incineration was more their style. With the amount of training Maka currently had, combined with Soul's, despite him being a recently-converted Deathscythe, Maka knew instantly that this warlock was far beyond their league. This was Ros Ulster, who evaded capture and had mercilessly toyed with and killed various meister-weapon pairs for decades. He ranked sixth in the top ten most wanted witches and demons around the globe for his sadistic tendencies.

As if to prove his strength, he had performed magic right before her very eyes and she hadn't seen his Soul Protect flicker even the slightest.

"What's wrong?" Soul asks, apprehensively. "Maka?"

"She's thinking about giving up, are you not, little meister?" Ros smirks. "She's a smart girl, Maka Albarn. Top of her class, never gotten below an A - on an exam. All brains and brawns, so the rumors say. Not stupid albeit reckless. Will you be reckless tonight, miss Albarn?" Ros taunts, watching her knuckles grow white as she gripped her scythe's staff. "Do you honestly think you have a chance at single-handedly defeating the great Ros Ulster of Ireland?"

"No," Maka replies. Ros' smirk widens. "But I can try!" Maka snarls, freezing his smirk in place as she sprints towards his surprised form. But she only makes it ten feet before a slobbering snarl cuts through the air, a soaked beast sliding to a stop before his master and baring its teeth at Maka. Maka swears and tries to stop her mad dash, her heel catching on a puddle of water and sliding from under her.

"SHIT—!" Soul gasps, catching Maka around the waist messily and falling crudely on his elbow. He hisses as pain shoots up his arm but he's relieved he managed to break Maka's otherwise hard fall. "You alright?" He groans, cradling his arm to his chest. "Don't do that! Watch where you're running next time!"

"How can I when—!" Maka's statement falls short when the beast grabs her by the sleeve of her shirt and roughly snaps his head to the side – sending her body tumbling away while Soul shouts after her.

"You bastard – don't touch my meister!" Soul snarls viciously, shifting a scythe out of his arm and stabbing it into the Kishin's chest mercilessly. It howls in pain, tearing his scythe deeper into its flesh the more it strived to get away. But, to Soul's surprise, the Kishin is kicked away rudely by Ros, who grins down at him with glinting eyes.

"SOUL, WATCH OUT!" Maka shrieks, watching helplessly from the wooden rail she cracked with her weight as Soul is lifted up by the collar of his shirt. Soul grabs Ros' wrist tightly, kicking and struggling to get away from the warlock who chuckles darkly at his feeble attempts.

"Get off me, you ass!" Soul grunts, bewildered by the warlocks strength. His hands feel like stone, Soul thinks to himself, in fact his entire body felt like it was carved out of stone. He suddenly wishes he had paid more attention during history class as Ros levels their faces.

"Medusa's experiments have always interested me in terms of side-effects." Ros smiles dangerously. "The Black Blood is something I've always wanted to tamper with, especially an old model such as yours. But Medusa is stingy with her creations: she does not like anyone else tinkering with them. Guess my luck when one of her experimental rejects comes galloping right towards me… months later, but I can work something out."

"Let go of him!" Maka shouts, standing on weak knees. She tears off the ripped sleeve of her uniform and tosses it away. "Don't you dare hurt him! Let him go!"

"I am Ros Ulster of the Irish Islands." He restates with authority, a wicked grin stretching his face. "My primary source of entertainment would be comprised of royal games. So why don't we play a game, Soul Eater, in which I swear on the magic that runs through my blood that if she manages to bring you back from insanity, I will allow you both to leave unharmed."

"Game? I don't wanna' play a fuckin' game!" Soul sneers, beginning to kick and flail again. "Lemme' go!"

"I will use this black blood of yours against you to test your devotion to your master." Ros continues as if he had not spoken. "I'll let it boil in your veins, consume your every thought with bloodlust and gore. And I will let you go on a mad hunt for your master. The black blood, I hear, is kept under control with the effects of her Anti-Magic Wavelength… but what if she cannot use that this time?"

"What're you getting at, old man?" Soul growls.

"What if my magic is resistant to it?" His chest rumbles with chuckles. "How will she make you see reason, Soul Eater, so that you do not live up to your nickname and accidentally devour her soul…?"

Soul stops struggling, staring at Ros with a visibly pale face. "That's impossible. You can't block the effects of her Anti-Magic Wavelength!"

"Never tell a man he cannot do something, Soul." Ros muses, spreading his palm. A misty silver coalesces inside it as he continues: "He'll be driven to prove you wrong."

"SOUL!" Maka shrieks, watching as her partner doesn't even manage a scream when Ros' palm connects with his stomach. There is a moment when Soul's body slumps forward lifelessly, the warlock doing nothing more than removing his hand from his stomach and dumping him back on the floor as if he were nothing more than a couple of dirty rags. "SOUL! Are you okay? SOUL EATER!"

"He will wake soon." Ros assures, disinterestedly. "Now it's time for me to explain the rules to you."

"What did you do him?" Maka barks, hands fisted by her sides. Tears burn her eyes. "What the hell did you do to my weapon?"

"You are not allowed to contact help of any kind. The entire town of Wicklow is at your disposal; any weapons or souls alike," he smiles darkly here, "are yours for the taking. Your objective is simple: return Soul Eater's sanity before eleven hours is up or face becoming one meal of many. If you do not regain Soul's mind, well… I shall let him feast on the souls of the dear humans that surround us after he eats yours."

Soul hand twitches, more of his body slowly coming alive right before her very eyes. Maka holds her breath in hope as he silently sits up, one hand reaching up to hold is neck as if sore. She can faintly hear bone crack as he shakes his head, slowly returning to his feet.

"I will allow you only one hint you may ask for when you grow desperate. Use it wisely, Maka Albarn." Ros leaps back, standing once more atop the wooden rail of the boardwalk that overlooks Wicklow port. "You have eleven hours starting now." And he disappears in a breath of air, leaving behind nothing more than his ghostly presence as Soul Eater brushes off dust from his black jeans.

"Soul?" Maka calls, softly. She takes a wary step. "Soul, are you okay?"

"Maka…" He drawls, and she can glimpse the curl of a mad smirk on his face. "Have I ever told you that I always wanted to know how a Grigori soul tastes like?" He turns, and Maka backpedals at the delirious spark that lights her partners eyes.

"Soul…?" Maka whispers, frightened. "Soul, don't let it control you. You're better than this. You can get past it –!"

"No, I don't think I can get past it this time, Maka." Soul grins, revealing a jawful of serrated teeth. They seem bigger under this dim light, glinting like razors. They frighten her. "I don't want to! HAHAHA!"

Maka barely has time to dodge a blow from her partner, rolling and crying out when the tip of his scythe manages to scratch her thigh. Maka scrambles to her feet, missing another blow by a hairs breadth. She has no time to stop and analyze what has just happened; no time to even catch her breath or blink away the tears that have burned her eyes. She only has time to dart away from the boardwalk, toward the small town of Wicklow which is breathing fog by the barrels and appears dead and silent compared to the loud tap of her footfalls.

"Stop running away from me, Maka!" Soul's cackle reaches her ears, encouraging her to run faster. "I promise I'll take good care of your soul – I'll even chew thoroughly!"

"Soul, I know you're in there!" Maka cries, turning sharply into an alley. "I know you're still in there!" She looks over her shoulder, seeing no one behind her. But her Soul Perception does not lie and it shows her that Soul is only seconds from reaching her if she dares to slow down. "I know you can hear me! And I want you to listen to me very closely: I'm going to bring you back!" Maka ducks down an empty street, braking to a stop and gulping down deep breaths as she desperately searches for somewhere to take shelter in from her bloodthirsty best friend. "I'm going to save you, SOUL!"

"That sounds marvelous, Maka." Soul sarcastically says, appearing from a darkened alley to stand in the middle of the street like her. "But Soul isn't here right now." And Maka can see cruel black eyes stare out at her. "You can try again later."

"You…" Maka breathes, staring into disturbing familiar black eyes. "You're that ogre, aren't you? Of course, it makes all sense. Ros unleashed the dormant power of the black blood to overwhelm Soul, thus putting you in control of his body..."

"Quickest minds I've ever had the displeasure of knowing." Little Ogre drawls with distaste, his hands slipping into his pockets. The pose hurts her because he mimics Soul so well. "Having a pleasant trip, Maka? Soul tells me you were quite excited to be travelling to one of the many towns your bitch of a mother visited before."

"Bring Soul back!" Maka snarls. "I know he's in there!"

"Oh, yes, he is in here. Being quite rowdy, actually." Little Ogre wrinkles his nose but brushed off the mental disturbances. "But no matter. There is no way he will ever be unlocked from his mental prison all thanks to that warlock. I'll have to send him a thank you card for giving me the freedom I rightfully deserve."

"You don't deserve that freedom!" Maka hisses with conviction. "Soul was here first! You're just a side-effect from the black blood! If you have to blame anyone, blame Medusa for ever bringing you into existence!"

"Oh, that hurts." Little Ogre taps his chest with feigned woe. "But, on the contrary, I should be thanking Witch Medusa for what she did. Life… you never really learn to appreciate it until it's taken away from you. The same goes with freedom and all other privileges in life." His eyes darken with glee, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. Once more his teeth seem to grow, sharpen like knives. "Let me give you a reason to appreciate why you are alive and well, Maka!" With an animalistic snarl, Soul sprints towards her with his scythe blades glinting under the opaque glow of the moon.

Maka turns to run down the street once more, heart pounding in her ears as her thoughts race for order. The warlock had specifically stated that she was not allowed to contact anyone outside of the small town. Regardless, she would not be able to. All of her things are packed up in the hotel and going there now was a death wish with Soul chasing after her. She has no choice but to somehow lose him enough to come up with a plan.

Soul calls for her again, a jeering edge to his tone, and Maka makes a reckless turn into another alley. She gasps when she sees the walls begin to close in on her and darts behind a stinky trashcan. The lid rattles as it falls to the floor, coming to a noisy stop. Maka slaps a hand over her mouth when she hears Soul stop as well, panting and slurping up the drool that has dripped down his chin in his hunger.

"Over the wall, over the wall, over the fucking wall, she would, that idiot…" she hears him mutter to himself, continuing his incoherent garble as he leaps over the wall and continues his mad search for her. When she's sure he is no longer around, her heart pounding in her throat, Maka lets her head fall on her drawn knees.

What was she going to do now, being unable to use her Anti-Magic Wavelength to return her partners sanity?

She wishes Stein were here to coach her.

He would know what to do.

Hour 1

Not all hope is lost, Maka thinks with quick breaths. The warlock did tell her that he would allow her one hint. She isn't sure how she's going to do that but when the time comes, she'll know. She holds onto this hope as she peers through a window, slamming herself against the wall when she catches sight of her partners demonic shadow prowling the streets.

No outside contact but she can use anything the village has to offer. Thus far, that's only food and water and shelter, things she has no use of at the moment. Maka shakily reaches for the drawer in the kitchen, going through the silverware until she comes upon a butcher knife. It looks dull but it can still pack a punch. It can still slice through bone.

"No," Maka whispers, aggrieved. "No, that'll hurt Soul!" She slams the drawer closed and stumbles down to the backdoor of the house she'd taken refuge in. She's not thinking clearly – she's panicking like her partner always complained to her about. Her mind is blank with sheer horror. She needs to calm down, Maka coaches herself, she needs to take a few breaths and properly analyze the situation.

"Maka!" Soul sings, the shingles on a rooftop cracking under his weight. "Where are you, love? I know you're here…I can smell you…"

Maka slaps a hand over her mouth, shutting her eyes. She's scared of him. That warlocks magic is strong and she knows it would be foolhardy to think that if she tries to speak to Soul face-to-face again, he'll listen. He'll only slice her head off and then the 'game' will be over. If Soul doesn't go mad because she failed to return his sanity, then the knowledge that he cold-bloodedly killed his own meister would.

Hour 2

He still hasn't found her yet but he's closer with every minute that passes. He's tracking her like a hunter does to their prey, arriving to places she had inhabited only just minutes before with ravenous rage. She needs to keep moving if she wants to live long enough to figure out how to regain his sanity.

The panic has become a low hum under her reason. She can ignore it so long as she keeps thinking.

This has happened once more, she tells herself. Ros Ulster was infamous for his sadistic games. Sid had read to them of a game the youngest warlock had played on a meister and weapon. In that instance, he had stolen away the weapons sanity and left the meister alone – with only one hint, Maka bitterly thinks – to cleverly devise a plan to regain his weapons sanity before the time was up. This seems to be a game the youngest Ulster is fond of. But in that game, the meister and weapon had come out as bitter losers.

The meister had sacrificed himself and the action stunned his weapon back to reality – a reality she no longer wanted to live. She had suicide soon afterwards, leaving behind only a letter of Ulster's cruel game and his existence. Now, the trick for them was shock. The meister had shocked his weapon out of her mad-induced trauma. That's one alternative, Maka grimly thinks.

But what can shock Soul back to reality? It has to be something monumental, something that'll make him stop and gawk….

"FOUND YOU!" Soul cackles, pressing his face against the glass of the window beside her.

Maka shrieks and sprints out of the kitchen and into the living room. She slams the front door open, running down the pavement as fast as her feet could take her. She hears the rustle of clothes and knows Soul is gaining on her.

"Soul, stop it!" Maka cries. "Come back!"

"Quit running and maybe I will!" He taunts.

"I—!" Maka nearly crashes into a wheeled out trash bin but she awkwardly leaps over it. "I – I think your brother plays better music than you do!" She cries and then his footsteps come to a halt. Maka pants as she turns, holding her breath fearfully. She hopes that's enough to stun him back to reality.

"Really?" He says calmly to her utter despair, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. "Nothing I didn't already know. What, spilling out your nasty little secrets before you die? You're a witch."

"No!" Maka gasps, shaking her head furiously. "No, it's not like that!"

"What're you gonna' tell me next, huh?" Soul snarls, his eyes growing hatefully black. "That you fucked Kid after all?"

"What?" She whispers, baffled. "What are you talking about, Soul?"

"Don't play dumb, Maka, you thought I didn't notice how much time you've been spending with that obsessive bastard?" He sneers, baring his teeth at her vehemently. He looks nothing like the Soul she's known for most of her youth. He's a monster compared to him. "You've ditched me to hang out with him!"

"I've never done that!" Maka fiercely shouts. "I told you I had to finish Stein's report with him! We were partners!"

"I bet you are," Soul bitterly laughs. "Better him than me, right?"

"Wha—!" Maka shrieks when he starts for her again, enraged. She scrambles down another twisting alley, hating how the walls seem to squeeze her the longer she runs. She manages to wiggle out of the slot before hurrying down another street. Her hands shakily try every door down that street, desperation clawing at her heart with every locked knob. But alas, a door breaks open, and Maka has enough reason to shut it quietly, sliding down the door as she hears her partner stampede down the street in search for her.

Silent sobs wrack her shoulders.

She would have never thought her partner, her best friend, keeper of her heart, could look at her with such profound hatred.

Hour 3

The shock theory won't work. Maka bitterly thinks that all those years of retaining a cool persona have finally done their damage: there isn't much that can shock the albino nowadays. That means one less solution to her problem.

She can try to do it by force but she'll need to time it right. She faintly remembers the map she'd been given upon her arrival to Wicklow but she thinks she can maneuver herself through the town enough to catch him off-guard.

If a psychological shock won't work, then she'll have to try a physical shock.

Maka stares at her hand, clawing it like a bears claw. She thinks back to Black Star and silently thanks him for taking some time – albeit reluctantly – to give her a few lessons on using Soul Menace. Although she still hasn't mastered it yet, she has not choice but to try. She tries a few experimental attacks at the air, clenching her jaw when her soul wavelengths backlashes at her.

"Dammit," she whispers to herself. She tries once more, wincing when a particularly bright flash twists out of her fingers. She needs to get the feel for it again. She looks up at the pale curtains and listens hard but nothing seems out of place. He hadn't seen that, thankfully. If he had, she has no doubt he'd barrel right in and try to eat her soul.

The thought makes her tremble.

Was he really a maniacal madman out for her soul or did he have enough reason to plot out an attack against her? She supposes that's the worst thing about this situation: not knowing just how insane is insane. Was Soul merely viewing the world through different lenses, mind completely convoluted by the madness boiling in his blood or was the ogre really in control, like an alter ego of sorts? If it was the second one then perhaps she really did have no chance at bringing him back to reality.

Blind insanity was better than calculated insanity.

Maka silently crawls to the window, slowly rising on her knees. She very carefully pushes a gap in the frail white curtains that frame the window, peering through the slot. The streets are deserted. The mist seems to dance upon the pavement, mocking her. The arced moon shines bright above the guttered clouds. She can't see her partner anywhere but she knows he's out there, waiting for her to lower her guard.

She silently drops back down to her hands, crawling over to the kitchen. The tile is cold underneath her but she doesn't let it deter it. Suddenly, she hears creaking above on the roof. Maka freezes, breaths coming out like gasps.

He knows.

She bites her lip and crawls under the kitchen table, knowing that trying to escape through the backdoor would only lead to another wild chase. Maybe this time she won't be able to outrun him. The roof groans in protest with her partners every step until he comes to a halt on the other side of where she resides.

"You in there, Maka?" His voice echoes down the chimney and Maka tenses, shutting her eyes. "Helloooo?"

No, no I'm not! Maka thinks, desperately. Go away! There's nobody here! C'mon, Soul, leave! Not yet! She's careful not to move even an inch as the roof groans again.

"Guess I'll have to check for myself."

Maka feels her blood run cold.

Hour 4

She crawls out from under the kitchen table, hurrying towards the backdoor when she hears gravel fall from down the chimney. He was going to go down the chimney? That was insane! He could hurt himself!

Maka bitterly smiles. Well, he was insane, after all. It makes sense.

"Ready or not, here I come!" He cheerfully shouts, and the loud scratching and tumble of gravel against the cement walls of the chimney give her enough cover to open the backdoor. Maka closes it as silently as she can while Soul lands on his feet. It's silent again while Maka kneels just outside the door.

I have to go, Maka thinks as she stands. He can't know I'm out here! But where would she go? Maka stealthily creeps down a sharply turning alley, glancing behind her every few seconds. He still hasn't caught on. Maka hurries.

It's cold at this time of night. Her button shirt is torn from her fight and the sleeve is missing. It's just now that Maka realizes, running her fingers over the deep cut in her thigh…

…she's leaving a trail behind with her blood.

"Maka!" Soul shouts as the backdoor slams open, his eagerness palpable in his words: "I found youuu!"

"Shit!" Maka curses, running down the weaving streets. She looks everywhere but every door seems locked, each house and store abandoned for this night. Maka brakes to a stop when she hears the shingles on the rooftops rattle with weight.

"I told you so!" Soul yells as he lands a few feet away from her, a hungry grin stretching from ear to ear. "Now, c'mon, feed your weapon, Maka." He licks his lips, eyes darkening cruelly. "He's hungry!"

"Soul, stop!" Maka shouts, backing away. "Stop it! You're scaring me!"

Chuckles rumble in his chest as he takes a step towards her, a scythe sliding out of the skin below his wrist.

"What if I make you a deal!" Maka shouts, and Soul roars in laughter.

"A deal? Alright, I'm listening!" He smirks, pausing his predatory approach.

"If – if you return the real Soul to me," Maka wets her lips. "I'll find a way to bring you out."

"Hmm, not good enough." He starts to near her again, his scythe blacker than the ebony of the sky.

"Okay! Okay, I'll – I'll cut you out from him somehow! You're technically another person, right? There should be a way to separate you two, right?"

"Nope, not really." He deadpans. "We're two sides of the same coin, Maka, I thought you knew that already. Where he goes, I go and where I go, he goes. It's simple science, Maka, you can't change it. Even if you do cut me out of him somehow, it'll be traumatic for both of us. We've been together for too long."

"But—!"

"And you can join us," he grins again, raising his scythes tarnished blade. "Just surrender to me and you can become apart of us."

"You know it doesn't work that way," Maka whispers, ruefully.

"Ah, but I don't see you denying it!" He chortles, eyes crinkling with his insanity. "So give up! You can't bring him back!"

"I'll bring him back, just watch! I've brought him back before, I'll do it again!" Maka spits back in a burst of courage.

"Not without your Anti-Magic Wavelength you can't!" Soul sneers, and attacks her head-on. Maka dodges, aiming a rough kick to his side. Soul slams into the wall but he scrambles back up unhurt, another growl escaping his mouth as he rams into her.

"I got you now!" He laughs delightedly, raising his scythe over his head. "Hold still and let me carve out your soul, Maka!"

"NO!" Maka screams, kicking him off her. She scrambles to her knees, crawling away from him. But his hand lashes out, gripping her ankle and forcing her back to him.

"You always had fat ankles," he grunts.

"You said they weren't fat!" Maka shouts back, kicking his face in to escape. She inwardly apologizes and shakily stands, hurrying down to the mouth of the alley.

"I LIED!" Soul bellows, rubbing away the blood from his bruised nose and charging after her like a mad beast. Maka runs down the street once more, houses and stores and dainty restaurants running like watercolors under the rain from the corner of her eyes. She recklessly turns into another alleyway, a sob of shock escaping her throat when she finds it's a dead end.

"You've got nowhere to run now, Maka, so give it up." Soul heaves out breaths, looking at her victoriously from under his unruly strands of silver hair. "Game over."

Maka presses against the wall, staring at him. He was right: the wall was too high for her to climb right now. She would have to jump as she ran down the mouth of the alley. She couldn't clear a jump like this like Black Star could. Once more, Maka is reminded of how short she falls compared to her other teammates. Her fists clench by her sides. She will not be the one to lose this game tonight.

"Not yet it's not!" Maka shouts and runs to him. Soul is struck dumb for a second, unsure of what move she's pulling now, but soon it replaces with a cocky smirk.

"Stupid—!"

"SOUL MENACE!" Maka bellows, slamming her fists into his stomach. A horrible shudder of shock escapes her partners mouth as Maka injects her soul wavelength into his body, blowing him clear ten meters away from her.

"Soul?" Maka pants fearfully, her arms dropping limply by her sides. They feel numb with the power she'd shot out of her palms. "Soul…?"

"Argh, fuck, you almost got my dick, you bitch!" Soul gurgles out, groaning as he holds his stomach. Blood is spit out and he regains his sight from the mighty blow seconds after. His words only tell her that the physical shock hadn't worked either. "I need that to fuck!"

Disgust bubbles in her chest at those lewd words but she reminds herself that this is the demon speaking, not Soul. Never Soul, because although he was a man like those she despised, he was a better man than any of those could ever hope to be.

"Hey! Where you goin'?" Soul strangles out when she takes off past him, pausing only momentarily when he shouts: "Aren't you gonna' help your weapon out?" She can hear blood splatter as coughs wrack his body.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Maka barks over her shoulder, disappearing through a cloud of fog into the dense forest.

Hour 6

She has five hours to figure out how to regain Soul's sanity and she's growing desperate. She doesn't know how! She's tried a psychological assault with absolutely no results and she's tried a physical shock with the same results. If she tries to fight him, he will get hurt. He might not be Soul mentally but he was still Soul physically. If she damaged his body, his soul won't be able to function right in it.

A sound soul dwells in a sound mind and a sound body, Maka remembers distantly. Perhaps his body wasn't so sound, not with the wretched black blood cycling through it continuously. But he was still her partner, chronic madness, crude sense of humor, laziness and all.

"I need help!" Maka whispers into the deadened air. She looks around tentatively before continuing: "Ros Ulster! I need that hint!" The air remains lifeless. She slumps back on the bark of a tree, wondering if Ulster had said that to toy with her, when suddenly a shadow stretches before her.

"You rang?" Ros Ulster smirks at her stricken form, so pitiful pressed against the bark of the tree. She was less the confident and arrogant woman he saw down by the boardwalk and more a filthy street rat begging for money. His smirk grows at the thought.

"The hint you promised!" Maka bites out, bringing herself up to full-height. "I need it now!"

"You sure? You still have another… five hours or so to go," Ros says after checking his pocket watch. He slips the curiosity back into the pocket of his coat. "Perhaps you can figure it out without my intervention."

"You didn't necessarily give me a lot to go on, y'know!" Maka hisses. "Only that I have eleven hours to bring Soul back to his right mind!"

"What? Wasn't that enough? I thought I was quite thorough." He innocently says.

Maka sneers.

"Oh, very well." Ros blows out a flat breath, checking behind him. "But first…" He snaps his fingers, and sound seems to dim. The biting cold dwindles in ferocity. The air thickens as if with steam, making it harder to breathe for Maka. "There. So your precious partner doesn't go trying to chomp your arm off while I'm speaking."

"What did you do?" Maka whispers, in awe of the sphere of magic that encapsulates them.

"A barrier. It'll be gone in a few minutes, so you'd best phrase your question to me."

"You know what I want," Maka says instead, not rising to his bait. "So give it to me."

"Yes, a hint. What kind of hint?"

"The hint you promised me." Maka cleverly says. Warlocks, like witches, had an uncanny way of twisting one words until they scarcely resembled themselves. It was better to toss back the exact words the witch or warlock used than try to reinvent the wheel. "I need it."

Ros barks out a laugh. "Very clever, Maka Albarn. Fine, I'll grant you this only because you were the first not to fall for it. You'd be surprised how many recklessly ask, only to receive less of what they expected."

Her stomach plummets. So there really had been more victims than the ones Shibusen had records of? The sheer thought makes her want to gag. This was a game that should have never seen light in the first place.

"I have learned, in my long study of the human being, that often times they tend to overthink things." Ros begins in disgust. Maka listens attentively. "Generally, critical thinking is needed to function in your society. The examinations you take require such profound rationalization, day-to-day troubles require that sort of thought as well. So I exploit it." He grins, maliciously. "Often times, the most simplest approach is overlooked and, as such, you humans tend to take a longer road than you anticipated. Often times, if one takes the simplest choice, you discover it really is that easy…"

"What are you trying to say?" Maka whispers, darting her eyes behind Ulster. She thinks she saw a shadow pass by. Fear festers in her gut like disease, hardening her muscles and paling her face.

"The simplest solution is what you must aim for in this game." Ros calmly says. "Overthinking your actions will only entangle you more in this madness. So, think, Maka Albarn, what's the easiest solution?"

"Killing you to break the spell!" Maka spits.

Ros openly laughs. "Ah, no, no! Too hard, you must think simpler."

Maka gnaws on her lip, glancing behind Ulster again. He couldn't have found them so soon, could he? The barrier should protect them! "That hint isn't helping me, Ulster! It's only making things worse!"

"Too bad," he shrugs.

"No! You promised me! A warlock does not break their promises!" Maka insists.

"I promised you a hint," Ulster coldly replies, not taking too lightly of her veiled insult. "I never promised you an answer."

"A hint is supposed to lead to an answer! That only leads me nowhere!" Maka shouts, desperation leaking into her voice.

"I suppose," he replies, noncommittally. "That doesn't mean I didn't give you a hint."

"Dammit, Ulster, just give me a hint! Give me a hint, something to help me bring him back! I need him back!" Maka roars, tears burning her eyes again. They've wasted so much time in this useless conversation. "He's my weapon! My partner! I need…"

"What?" He murmurs.

"I need him." Maka confesses helplessly.

"Why?"

Maka stares at him, speechless. The words are stuck in her throat, refusing to break through the barrier of her lips. Ros smiles a deceptively sweet smile at the answer he reads in her eyes. He checks his watch again before replacing it in his pocket.

"The most obvious answer is often the right answer." Ros drawls, tipping his head towards her in mock-respect. "You have four hours starting now. Don't disappoint me, now, Maka." He disappears and the barrier breaks like glass. The cold wraps around her like a blanket of snow and the air is suddenly too much. She can hear the faintest branch break under the cover of darkness and the symphony of insects belie the funeral tune she shall never have the opportunity to hear should she not run now.

A chuckle makes her freeze.

She needs to go now.

Hour 9

"Heh…"

Maka swivels, eyes round with fear. Breath pushes out of her lungs with effort, as she waits and listens for any other sounds. She's been going around in circles in this forest for what seems to be hours without any way of returning to town. She's not sure if Soul has discovered she'd fled for the hills yet but if he has… why hasn't he attacked her yet?

The crunch of dead leaves distracts her and Maka backs up into a tree again, hoping the natural darkness is enough to disguise her from sight. The splinters from a nearby brush dig into her bare leg, threatening to break skin. The wound on her thigh has stopped its bleeding now. Blood has crusted over the wound. She needs to be careful not to do anything that might break the skin again.

The immediate answer that came to her after Ros left is idiotic. There was no way it could be so simple, could it? There was no way mere words could lift the insanity that's eating at her partners mind. It's preposterous but once more Ros' words rise from the banks of her memory like a ghost, whispering those taunting words over and over like a skipping record:

"The simplest solution is what you must aim for in this game."

"Dammit!" Maka growls out, hitting her fist against the bark of the tree. She has two hours and she has absolutely nothing else she can work on except that insane thought. She can't even find her way back to town to find something to protect herself with. Regardless, she wouldn't even be able to use it if it came down to it. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Ma-ka~!"

She feels bolted to the ground by her own fear. Her partner was really gone this time. There was no clear way to bring him back, too. She only had one last shot at it and it wasn't even prone to work. It was suicidal at best. But it was all she had right now.

"Soul," Maka whispers, a sick feeling building in her gut. She was mad. The darkness, the sounds, the forest, the chase, the insanity – it was all getting to her. "Soul!" Maka says, louder now. Did she really want to expose herself like this? What if the answer lied in waiting it out? That was a simple answer although likely not the right one. He said nothing about him returning to normal after the eleven hours were up: he was quite clear when he said she needed to bring him out of his insanity in the allotted time.

She needs to find a pattern, that's it! Maka thinks, somewhat haphazardly. Yes, a pattern! There had been more cases! Of course there were! But from the one single case Shibusen has and the assumptions she's made herself, she can say they're all male-female pairs. That's a start!

"S…Soul," the name shudders out of her mouth despite herself.

Male-female, male-female. The obvious thought is romance but then she thinks about Kid and Liz and Patty and the thought becomes less shining. They're not romantically involved. That's out, and her gut twists a little more.

Alright, patterns were never her style anyway. She still has that one idea with her.

"Maka," he purrs from somewhere in the darkness. "I'm here. Come out. I just want to talk..."

He doesn't. She knows this. But she has less than two hours now before the timer rings and she's out of ideas. Ros Ulster was quite the sadist, to toss her into a cage of ravenous wolves with nothing but her own two hands. She bet he was watching them right now, amusing himself with her fear and his lust for her soul.

Taking a shuddering breath, Maka's leg twitches before she takes a slow step out of the darkness. The crescent moon seems to have never moved from its spot midway on the sky. It's as dark as ever, the clouds as uncaring and black as she had first seen them.

"I'm here! I'm right here, Soul!" Maka shouts, with a courage she only wished she had. "SOUL EATER!"

"In the flesh," he leers as he materializes out of the shadows. His eyes seem to have grown only darker with hunger. "Done hiding now, Maka?"

Maka swallows, jaw clenching and unclenching. "Please, stop, Soul. You need to regain control. You can't let him take over you like this, you'll hate yourself for what you'll do when he does!"

"That's your big master plan? Begging again?" Soul guffaws, mouth open wide to reveal his set of teeth. They glint under the slant of moonlight like recently sharpened knives. "If it didn't work the first time, what the hell makes you think it'll work a second time?"

"Stop it, Soul, you…" Maka struggles, eyes darting for any sort of weapon she can use. There is nothing around that can help her. She clenches her hands into fists. There hasn't been a single physical fight that Soul had won when he was up against her. Their sparing always ended with him below her, eyes screwed in pain. She can only hope being insane doesn't give him the upper-hand; physically-speaking. That type of liberation, no fear of hurting her, would definitely be an obstacle.

"I what?" He taunts, walking to her with his hand out. She sees another scythe slide out of his skin. "C'mon, the Maka I know doesn't leave people hanging."

"I love you!" She blurts and he comes to sudden stop, head cocking to the side. He stares at her for a second and Maka feels her gut give one last wretched twist.

"I don't." He smiles and runs to her with his arm raised. She's too stunned to react properly but she manages to push his hand away before the scythe bites into her neck. His weight crushing her, the scythe growing in length to reach her, Maka gasps in air and tries to push him off her with everything she's got.

"What makes you think I'd ever love a scrawny, know-it-all, plain girl like you?" He hisses meanly, struggling to force his scythe into her chest. "You don't have anything going for you but your damn brain. You're fuckin' flat as a board," he grunts, and raises a brow when his hand accidentally gropes her breast. "Okay, not so flat, but nothing like Blair." Cruelty spreads on his face, darkening his eyes and widening his grin. "Maybe if you were more of a woman like her, I'd think about it."

"GET OFF OF ME!" Maka roars, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her chest hurts, feels overstuffed with cotton. She feels smothered by her own failure. "SOUL, GET OFF!"

"Keep screaming, it's music to my ears!" He laughs out loud and the scythe plunges into the earth by her ear. Maka whimpers, the cold metal pressed against her cheek. He wasn't holding back. He wasn't holding back! What did she expect? Maka thinks ruefully. That the confession-thing would work? It was insanity.

And now she was going to die because of it.

But she would not go down without a fight.

"GET! OFF! ME!" Maka screams, punching him every way she can. She manages to push him off enough for her to sit up and that's her mistake. Maka stares ahead with screams bottled up in her throat, only wheezy breaths coming out. She gasps when she feels the scythe twist inside of her stomach, breaking more skin with every jerk. Her own blood pounds in her ears. She feels it flood the floor they both lay on. He's really done it, she thinks foggily, he was really going to kill her all along.

"Your soul is mine," he smirks in delight, and Maka smiles back bitterly. She gurgles out a scream when the scythe slides out of her stomach and he pushes her carelessly back onto the floor. Pain flares like a thousand hot knives in her flesh but she doesn't make another sound, holding it in along with the blood that threatens to drown her.

"So…l.." She chokes and he wipes the blood off his blade with the corner of his jacket. He looks so satisfied with himself, standing there, rubbing away her blood from his blade. Tears burn her eyes, blurring out his silhouette for painstaking seconds.

"Any last words before I eat your soul?" Soul drawls, setting a hand on his hip. "Nothing? Okay, that's fine with me, too." He kneels beside her, grabbing her under her neck. He lifts her up, ignoring her pained cries, and materializes another scythe in his arm to finish her off.

"I meant it," she sobs, shutting her eyes. She doesn't want to look when to happens.

"Meant what?"

"I love you. I love you so much," she sobs out helplessly. "Kid – Kid doesn't mean anything to me. He's my – friend. Who understood." She gasps out, feeling her head buzz. She felt darkness creep in from the corners of her eyes. "He…understood…"

"Understood what?" Soul asks, staring at her.

"How it feels…" She sucks in breath. A bitter smile twists her lips. "…to love someone who doesn't love you back." Her head falls on the ground harshly, a spell of dizziness stunning her. She doesn't know what's happening; sound is becoming more and more distant. The black is hard to push away, overtaking her sight before she can stop it. She feels like she's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

But the scream of horror brings her back for a split second, her eyes rolling forward from the back of her head enough to see Soul's face wrenched in terror. His eyes have returned to their normal shade of burgundy, no longer hungry but sane. What did she do to bring him back? Was death really the solution all along? Maka thinks hazily, choking out blood when Soul lifts her into his arms.

"Don't fall asleep, stay with me, Maka – Maka, Maka, shit, shit, don't die. Please don't die. Please, please, please…" He wheezes, lifting her off the ground. Her face twists in pain and she coughs, a sob tearing her throat along with it. What has he done? What has he done?

Her blood on his hand feels so heavy. He feels so dirty. He feels sick. What has he done? He used his own weapon – the very weapon he promised to use to protect her – to harm her. He went against everything he knows, everything he breathes, because he wasn't good enough. He's never been good enough. Not in music, not in school, and most definitely not as a weapon. He's always bound for failure, and now look at what he's done!

Only he can't live with this failure.

He can't, not this one.

"Stay awake, Maka! MAKA!" He sobs although no tears fall from his eyes. They burn in his eyes instead, clouding his vision. "Maka, wake up, please, wake up!" He begs, shaking her. She's warm with her own blood. He feels like vomiting. Is she breathing? She's not breathing, he pales.

"Just forty minutes from eleven hours! She timed it just right!" Ros Ulster drawls from behind Soul. He snaps his head towards him, eyes wild with agony and hatred.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!" He roars, clutching her limp body to his chest. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault? Now, boy, careful with your words. I wasn't the one who just killed my master." Ros says, matter-of-factly, and takes particular joy in watching his face crumple with grief again. "Now, if you let me finish, eleven hours aren't up yet. You're sane but she's dying. A warlock keeps his promises. You are free to go."

"She's dying, you fucking asshole!" Soul shouts, burying his face in her hair. She's dying and it's all his fault. He killed her. He killed his own meister. What good would it do now to leave when he can barely live with himself, with the sin he committed?

"I wasn't done yet." Ros says through his teeth. "My lord, you're worse than my buffoon apprentice. Let me finish. Shut up," he says sharply before Soul can speak. "As I was saying, if you can figure out how to save her – because there is a way, lad, there always is – then you can, I don't know, continue on with your happy lives and be at her every beck and call again, now with more reason than ever." He finishes briskly. "Now—!"

"She brought me back before time was called!" Soul shouts, roughly. "You promised we'd leave unharmed!"

Ros looks at him in utter surprise, honestly not having expected someone to be so sharp under such guilt and grief. "Yes. Yes, that's right. Oh good, you've figured it out by yourself…and you still have thirty five minutes to go." Ros checks his watch again just in case, nodding.

"Save her!" Soul demands, baring his teeth at him. "But if you hurt her, I'll kill you. I swear I'll hunt you down and kill you."

"At ease, Soul Eater." Ros dryly says, ambling over to them. He pushes his coat out of the way as he kneels, grimacing at the gore that covers her stomach and face. "You could have been a little more clean…" He ignores the vehement look Soul sends him and presses his hand over Maka's stomach. "She's alive, but just so. You couldn't have picked a better time…"

He murmurs foreign words under his breath and Soul watches as the blood stops spilling from her wound. The skin stiches itself back together, organs and tissue reuniting once more. Sudden breath comes from her mouth, lungs heaving in air as her heart pounds with the regenerated blood.

"She'll wake up soon." Ros briskly says as he stands, rolling his eyes when Soul brings her face towards him. His thumb shakily traces the soft curve of her bottom lip, feeling breath brush his skin. His shoulders relax with relief. "Damn. This hasn't happened before, either."

Ros taps his finger on his thigh for a second before shrugging. "I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. Quite a shock you gave me there, Soul, for a second I thought I had to pause the game and start over."

"What?" Soul croaks out, distracted from Maka for the moment.

"You see, the answer was simple. She just had to tell you she loves you." Ros says, as if nothing was amiss. "She was so close I thought I'd given her too much of a hint. But then you didn't react – you just rejected her plainly! Now, I may be cruel but I am not unfair. The answer to every game is always love. Because it's always overlooked when you live such a lifestyle." He gives him a lofty look of distaste. "You seem to have no importance for it anymore. It's quite sad. Consumed with your own greed to live, you can't imagine living for someone else, too."

"I'd give my soul for this girl." Soul says witheringly.

"It didn't seem like it at the time." Ros points out, petulantly. "I suppose it is partly her fault. She shouldn't have just blurted it out that way – she must've seemed insincere! No tact whatsoever. You'd have to really talk to her about that when she wakes up."

Soul stares at him with murder, teeth grinding into each other with his effort to stay where he was. Maka needs him. He can't leave her here to chase after this horrific, heartless, warlock when she still needed him.

"You talk too much," Soul hisses balefully.

"So I've been told." He dryly says. "I've finished my half the bargain. I beg you two adieu," he says with sarcasm, swiftly disappearing into the shadows of the forest. The entire area seems to brighten suddenly, as if a giant cloth had been uncovered from the sky. Sunlight streams through the canopy's of the trees, lighting the ground a soft glow. Lighting the trails of Maka's blood, her struggle in the dirt as he tried to strangle her—!

He shudders in a breath, holding her against him again. She's alive. She's alive and well and if she wants to get rid of him, he'll do nothing to stop her. He's a hazard to her life – her dad was right. He was dangerous for her, not in the way Spirit thought he would be, but in a different, more real, way.

Heartbreak could be remedied.

Death cannot.

Maka groans in his arms, slowly coming to. Her eyes crack open and she slides them over to him and the smile that breaks her face causes him physical pain because it looks so relieved and happy he can't take it. He'd rather her crawl away from him in disgust than smile back at him so brightly.

"Don't move so much," he says, softly.

"No, it's fine, Soul." Maka grunts, sitting up by herself. She touches her stomach, feeling smooth skin instead of a ragged wound. Her excess blood has crusted on her skin already. "Are you okay, Soul?" She asks concernedly and he drops his eyes with a bitter laugh.

"Me? I just impaled you with my scythe and you're asking if I'm okay?"

Maka eye's soften. She reaches out for him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't you, Soul. You'd never do that to me. You were under the influence of insanity, you can't expect to—!"

"No. No, don't try to justify it, Maka!" Soul furiously spits and she flinches. His face breaks again with guilt and he looks back down. "I swore I'd always protect you and I…didn't. I broke that oath." He takes a shameful breath. "We can't keep doing this. I'm too dangerous. If I have another fit of insanity, next time I could—!"

"First of all," Maka starts, sharply. Soul silences under her fierce gaze. "Ulster forced the insanity onto you. He only used the black blood because it's easier. Even if you didn't have that, you'd still be under a strong spell of madness. So don't say it's your fault because it actually isn't. Secondly, you're not under his spell anymore, so that means that my Anti-Magic Wavelength can regulate your madness levels again. It'll be like you never had it in the first place." She raises a hand, silencing him when he tried to protest. "Thirdly, it's okay. I don't blame you at all. I forgive you, Soul. I would have forgave you even if I had died," she smiles so sweetly it hurts him.

"Don't say that," he whispers.

"It's true." She reassures, patting his hand. He grabs it instead, squeezing it tightly. "We should probably head back to Shibusen now. Lord Death will want a full, detailed, report on what just happened tonight. He'll be happy to know that Ros Ulster still inhabits this part of Ire—land?" Maka squeaks when Soul suddenly embraces her. It's a crunching embrace, as if he wants to meld their bodies together in every way possible. Maka takes a quick breath and holds it, wondering if she can hold it long enough for him to release her.

"I lied," he whispers, loosening his embrace enough for her to breathe. She tenses in his arms when he presses his lips to her neck. "I don't think your ankles are fat. You're not as flat as a board. You're not plain. I've been wanting to kick Blair out since she moved in; she's annoying. You're right about the washing machine being broken. I did leave the stove on last week. I cheated on Sid's test—!"

"Soul! Soul, hold up!" Maka blinks rapidly, not sure where all of these confessions were springing from. Was he trying to…take back every lie he's told her? Even the small, insignificant, ones? Had her near-death really frightened him so much? Maka thinks back to their youth, when his sacrifice weighed so heavily on her conscious. She could only imagine how horrible it would be to know that you wounded your own partner with your own blade…

"…went with Black Star to smoke weed that one time. I'm sorry," he squeezes his eyes shut when she gasps in outrage. "I'll never do it again!"

Maka presses her lips together. "You better damn well not even think about it or I'll make sure you don't wake up for a week!"

Soul nods and Maka softens her tone. "Soul, really, it's fine. I'm fine. I can hardly remember the injury. I don't blame you. We weren't prepared for this: it wasn't in the mission report, and Ulster wasn't listed anywhere near Ireland. He was actually spotted down by London—!"

"Maka, I love you." He says so abruptly she chokes back her next words, growing very stiff in his arms. "I lied when I said I didn't. I also lied about your ankles being fat, did I say that already?"

"…Yes."

"Making sure." He blows out a breath of relief. When she doesn't speak again, agitation threatens to break his already shattered cool even more. "Maka? Say something."

"….mean it?" It's so soft he can barely hear her.

"What?" He whispers, craning his head down so his ear is close to her mouth. "Can you repeat that?"

"I said," she starts again, louder. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I mean that," he frowns. "Why would I lie about it?"

"Because…you nearly killed me." Maka bites out and Soul understands her mixed feelings soon after.

"You telling me you loved me was what broke me out of insanity in the first place, Maka."

"Really?" She says, hopeful. He smiles crookedly back, the affection in his eyes silencing her doubts. "I thought…it was dying. Because you said you didn't when I told you and – and when you attacked me you came back so.."

"Ulster said he was going to intervene," he softly informs her and Maka's eyes widen. "He said something about the answer always being love, something that's always overlooked in our lifestyles. Whatever that means. I think you should work on your execution," Soul chuckles out, tiredly. "Maybe you should have been a little more… passionate about it."

She's silent for a moment, processing this, before she nods in understanding. Soul gazes at her, burning the flush on her cheeks and pink of her lips into his memory. Signs of her life, not pale with death. His forehead falls on her shoulder, exhaustion setting into his bones just as the sun begins to rise from over the hills. It was brighter now than it was a few minutes ago.

"Don't fall asleep on me, Soul, we're really far away from town. You can sleep when we're at the hotel!"

"But, Maka!" Soul whines. "I'm tired. I haven't slept since… I can't remember the last I slept." He says, aghast.

"It was this morning, you idiot, now get up!" Maka heaves him up but he stands well on his own, helping her up instead. Once they dust themselves off, they inspect their surroundings for any damages. There's minor signs of their scuffle here and there but nothing nature can't cover up with time. Maka looks up to Soul and finds him staring out past a group of trees, looking worse for wear from all that's happened. "What is it?"

"I can see town from here."

"What? No way!" Maka checks and, indeed, she can see the slowly awakening town just past a few hills. "I wasn't able to find my way back before.."

"Maybe it was all a part of the spell," Soul offers and Maka hums in agreement. The town had been barren at the start of their 'game' as well yet she can catch distant figures milling around in the streets and shops now. "Come on." He stretches his hand out to her. She takes it. "We need to get some shut eye before heading back to Shibusen."

"Mm," Maka nods, somewhat disheartened her relaxing trip to Ireland had been disturbed by the appearance of this warlock.

"We can stay a day, if you want." Soul carefully offers, knowing she had wanted to visit this part of Ireland because of her mother. "Check out the place and stuff…"

"No," Maka shakes her head with a wry smile. "I've had enough of Wicklow for a lifetime."

"Suit yourself," Soul shrugs, not at all against it. "Oh, and Maka?"

"Yeah?" She stumbles over an overgrown root and he's there to steady her, murmuring to watch her step without any of his usual fire. He looks ready to sleep on his feet but he doesn't let her go. His hand is warm in her own. He doesn't let go even when they reach the edge of town.

"No more long-distance trips. I don't think my cool can take another one of these…."

Maka laughs and he quirks a smile at it. "Okay, we'll stick with anything inside the US next time!"

With good reason, too, because when they reach their hotel room, ignoring the bewildered looks they receive from the townspeople, when Maka falls into bed, Soul just drags the second bed closer to hers and doesn't even think of letting go of her hand just yet.

A/N: I know it's a monster story (again) but I finished it this morning after wondering just how in the hell I will reach 100 stories by the end of December. I suppose you can say that forcing myself to write doesn't help an inkling but writing because you could care less somehow brings out the best in me. Odd, how that works out. I've stopped questioning it lol

Scarlett.