"Maka?" Soul calls, rapping smartly on her door for the umpteenth time. Still he gets no answer. His meister has been holed up in her room all weekend, and Soul hasn't seen her at all. Best he can figure is that she sneaks out after he's gone to bed to eat and use the restroom. He wants to apologize, but how can he when she won't talk to him? He can talk through the door, but that's just so friggin' uncool. Then again, he's been nothing but uncool these past few days. "Maka, come on out. I need to talk to you."

Maka lifts her head when she hears Soul's voice, then sighs and rolls over on her bed, taking her sketchbook and pencils with her. She likes to draw. It takes her mind off things. But now, nothing can take her mind off of Thursday night.

It'd started out well enough, but quickly escalated into a full-on fight.

"C'mon, Maka!" he whined, pulling her relentlessly toward his bike. "Just one ride!"

She dug her heels in. "No, Soul! I don't want to!"

"We need to go home!" he said impatiently.

"I've already got a ride with Ox!" she argued.

"You don't wanna go with him. Kim and Jackie are with him, and they're at each other's throats right now. Don't know why, though…"

"So? I can sit up front with Harvar! He's driving, and he's not so dramatic."

He scowled at the mention of Harvar. "You're just scared. Come on, you'll like it once you're on it!"

"No, Soul!" she repeated, trying to jerk her wrist free of his grasp. "Now let me go! I mean it! Those things are dangerous!"

Soul snorted and tugged her closer. "One ride, Maka, that's all."

She lost her patience.

"No, Soul, now let me go right now, damnit!" she all but screamed. "I'm not going anywhere with you on that thing!"

Soul followed suit, dropping her arm and spinning to face her. He threw his hands into the air in exasperation.

"Fine! You wanna just curl up in your bed with a book? Go ahead! I'm just trying to help you live a little, Maka! You're too damn boring and uptight all the time. It wouldn't kill you to relax once in a while! You're a total buzz kill! I don't know why I bother hanging out with you, you're not even hot! All I've got is the fact that no one else could possibly have a wavelength compatible with yours. Hell, I'm surprised I do! Excalibur probably couldn't stand you."

The look on her face, shattered, broken, made Soul regret his words the second they left his lips. He braced himself for the punch, or, even worse, the Maka Chop, but it never came. Maka just stared at him with her big, wounded green eyes, and that was more painful than anything else. Then, without a word, Maka turned on her heel and fled back into the club. Seconds later she emerged with Kim, Jackie, Ox and Harvar, who had a hand on her shoulder, and they brushed by him. Harvar shot Soul one dark look before he climbed into the driver's seat.

Soul got it in gear just as the tacky minivan pulled away from the curb. He leapt onto his motorcycle and gunned the engine, flying along back streets and alleys in the hopes that he'd beat them to the flat. He arrived just as Maka ran up the stairs to their apartment. Soul ran after her, but she'd always been faster than him, and she was locked in her room by the time he reached the flat. He'd waited outside her door for hours, beating on it with his fists, begging that she let him in, but he got no response. He thought, if he quieted down and listened, that he could hear quiet sobs, and he wanted to rip his own hair out. He'd made his meister cry! His tough-as-nails scythe meister! He'd spat out fighting words, words meant to hurt, and they'd done their job. His partner was in her room, crying her eyes out, because he'd been a dick..

Maka couldn't believe that Soul had said those things. He'd thrown his words at her like daggers, just because she was scared to ride on a motorcycle! What the Hell was his problem? She was afraid. That didn't give him an excuse to blow up at her like he had! Those things he had said… She sniffed again, trying in vain to hold back the tears. Those things he'd said hurt, badly. More so because they were true. She knew she was boring. She was a bookworm that liked to spend her free time reading. She knew she was difficult. Hard to please, hard to get along with, hard to read. And she knew she wasn't pretty. Hell, she was friends with Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and Liz Thompson, and lived with a magic cat named Blair. They all had amazing bodies and beautiful looks. She knew she was nothing special, especially compared with them. Tsubaki was tall and curvy, Liz had that easy sultry look, and Blair, well…Blair had boobs for brains, and had no problem flaunting her voluptuous human body.

Like she needed Soul to remind her?

Maka hears one last knock on her door, then the scuffing of feet, and a loud, frustrated sigh. Finally, he was leaving. She slumps back on her bed for a moment, letting the tears roll down her face. Soul had hurt her. And he knew it.

Soul stands outside her door, contemplating just kicking it down, but he figures that won't earn him any points. He sighs and kicks up some dust on the floor, before resolving to sit right there and wait until she comes out. Resolutely he lowers himself to the floor and crosses his legs, leaning against her door.

Minutes later, he hears movement in her room, and the click of her locked door, but before he can pull himself upright, the door has swung open and he falls back, looking upside-down at Maka's startled face. She emitts a small squeak of surprise and skitters backwards, tripping onto her bed.

Soul climbs awkwardly to his feet and leans against the doorframe. She glowers balefully at him, and he feels his throat constrict at the anger and hurt that spark in her eyes. It is, after all, entirely his fault that she's upset, and he deserves nothing less than her fury. He deserves worse, if he is honest with himself.

"Maka, I need to talk to y—"

"Save it Soul. There's nothing I want to hear from you," she interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest the way she did when she felt defensive. These were the first words she's spoken since their fight, and her voice is hoarse from disuse.

Soul moves forward, hand outstretched in a pleading gesture. A hand that Maka swipes away.

"Don't touch me," she spits.

"Maka, please, just hear me out," he begs.

She just stares at him, green eyes hard as flint.

"Maka, I swear, I didn't mean it," Soul continues. "I wasn't thinking! I should never have said any of those things. I was wrong and stupid and totally uncool, and I would never have said those things if I'd been thinking!"

"That's just it, though," Maka counters coldly. "Usually, when you're not thinking about what you're saying, it's what you really think and how you really feel that comes out of your mouth."

Soul freezes.

"Is that how you really feel, Soul?"

He shakes his head furiously. "No, Maka! Well, okay, maybe you're a little boring when you're reading, and you're not the easiest person to get along with, but I—"

"Then that's it."

Soul blinks. "What's it?"

Maka stands, arms still crossed over her chest. What Soul doesn't know is that, hidden in the fold of her arms, her fingers are trembling.

"Us. That's it. If that's how you really feel, then I wouldn't want to burden you as your partner. Why don't you find someone else that isn't boring, or difficult, or plain, to be your meister? Maybe you wouldn't be such a dick to them."

Those words are like needles of ice, each one plunging into his heart and twisting painfully.

"Hell, you go find Excalibur! He's not boring, from what Blackstar and Kid've said."

"No, but he's beyond annoying and lame!" Soul exclaims, cringing at the very thought of the weapon whose eyes looked like a failed arts-and-crafts project.

"Oh? So he's like me?"

"No! Damnit, that's not what I said, Maka!" Soul cries, terrified of the direction this conversation is taking.

"I don't give a damn anymore, Soul," she sighs. "I'm done with this partnership. All we do is piss each other off. We barely like each other anyway."

Soul's crimson eyes widen. Maka continues mercilessly.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I'll pack up my stuff tonight, then I'll be out of your hair."

"Wh-where'll you stay? Not with your dad?"

Maka snorts. "No, idiot. I'm going over to Harvar's. Since Kim and Jackie got into that huge fight, and Ox and Kim partnered up, Harvar's been left hanging. I'll see if he wants to partner up with a buzz kill like me."

Harvar. Harvar. Back to that. Damn that stupid spear!

Soul lunges forward and pins Maka against her bed. She gasps, and knees him painfully in the gut, but he doesn't let her go.

"You're not going anywhere, Maka," Soul growls. "Least of all to that ass's house. Not until you tell me that you can forgive me."

She looks daggers at Soul, disbelief that he could have the gall to say those things to her, and then turn around and demand forgiveness assaulting her mind.

"Who the Hell do you think you are to tell me where I can or can't go?" she shouts, digging her knee hard into his ribcage. He hisses in pain but doesn't move. "To think, I actually believed you were any damn different! Let me go, Soul!"

"Forgive me," he counters.

"Damn you, it'll take a lot more than sorry to make me forgive you, Evans!" she screeches. He releases her as though she burned him. Maka feels a savage pleasure at the look of hurt on Soul's face because she used his real name.

"Maka…"

"Get out of my room. Now," she growls. "I'm still living here for one more night."

Without a word, without anything but a look of pure pain, Soul leaves the room. Maka follows and slams the door close. The moment he's out of her sight, she slumps against the solid door, sliding to the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest. She lays her head on her arms and cries. She cries her heart out, tears pouring from her eyes as though they were desperate for air. It was official. Soul is the same as any other man. He had hurt her, and then turned around and acted remorseful. She wanted so badly to forgive him, to jump up and run into his arms and tell him that she forgave him. But it is for that precise reason that she refused to do it. Because, as soon as she puts that incident behind her, he will without a doubt do it again.

On the other side of the door, in the hall, Soul Eater collapses against her door, arms wrapped around his knees and tears gliding soundlessly down his face. Damn, he thinks idly. Cool guys don't cry. But cool guys don't make girls cry either. They don't shout them down until they are cowering, they don't spit out insult after insult even as they watch the girl's face fall farther and farther.

It hurts. It hurts so much. He'd been an ass. He's hurt his best friend. His meister. The one girl that has been there for him through it all. She's finally throwing him away, and who does he have to blame but himself? It is all his fault. His fault she hurt, his fault he hurt, his fault that they are falling apart. Maka has been with him through thick and thin, always pulling things together when they start to split, always assuring him that it would be fine, that she'd always be with him. And now she isn't.

Damnit, damnit, damnit! He curses mentally. He calls himself every horrible name he can think of, every single demeaning term, and nothing seems bad enough to describe him. What had happened that night? Why had he been pushing her so hard when she was clearly afraid? Why had he gone off on her, simply for being afraid?

He knows the answer, of course. He'd already been pissed, and that little annoying second was all it had taken to ignite the spark. The whole gang had been out, hanging at one of the clubs in town, and Harvar had asked Maka to dance. The last time they'd danced together was at Kid's fifteenth birthday party, when Maka had first moved to Death City, and it was not the kind of innocent dancing that went with slow songs and wineglasses.

Maka hadn't thought anything of it, and she'd accepted his offer, taking his hand as he led the way onto the dance floor.

Soul frowned. This wasn't the music that Harvar usually danced to. There was too much bass. It was too hip-hop for the dancing that Harvar did. He liked the Hispanic crap like salsa and tango. That was what Maka excelled in as well, although that wasn't to say that's all the two could do. They could waltz, Harvar could break dance, and Maka could do ballet. But this music didn't seem right for any of those.

"Hey, Blackstar," Soul said, leaning across the table to get the assassin's attention. "Can you see Harvar or Maka?" The two had vanished amidst the crowd of people.

"Huh?" said the blue-haired kid, drawing his attention away from where Tsubaki was sitting, talking animatedly with a couple of tall-dark-and-handsome's. "No, why would I? I thought Harvar gave up on her?"

"Yes, I thought he was content to be Maka's friend," Kid said curiously from beside Soul. "Why would they run off together in a place like this?"

"Harvar invited Maka to dance." Blunt. Forced through gritted teeth.

"Dude, you can't get all possessive and crap over Maka," Blackstar sighed. "She's free; on the market. You won't grow the balls to take her off the market, so she's allowed to dance with whoever she wants."

"Blackstar's right, Soul," said Liz from where she perched on the edge of the table, eyeing a couple of guys near the entrance. "You can't act like you're her boyfriend and not let her interact with other guys. You haven't staked a claim, for whatever reason."

"Shut up, guys!" Soul snapped. "I just wanted to know if you'd seen them!"

But, when he turned back to the floor, he saw them himself. As was usual if Maka was dancing, a ring of people had formed to watch. Harvar was spinning Maka; she gave a low bow-like dip and then spun back into his arms, her back against his chest. Harvar's hands slid down her sides to her hips, and guided her in new movements that set Soul's teeth on edge. He was moving her hips in time with the music, moving with her as though they were of a single mind. Then he spun her out again, and brought her back, this time face-to-face. And he held her hips and steered her through a snakelike movement that had her undulating seductively against him. Fury flashed white hot through Soul's veins, and before he knew how it happened, he was on his feet, straining against Blackstar's and Kid's restraining hold. They were trying hard to hold him back, to keep him from storming onto that floor and beating Harvar completely senseless, possibly even beating him dead. But he wouldn't give up, and Blackstar ended up pinning him to the ground and sitting on him until the song was over, and the crowd once more occupied the whole floor. Maka and Harvar squeezed out of the throng, hands linked so that they wouldn't lose each other, just as Blackstar was letting Soul up. Instantly Tsubaki leaped between Harvar and Soul, who looked mad enough to spit fire, and tried to diffuse the tension. Without a word, Soul grabbed Maka's arm and steered her outside, toward the bike.

Soul takes a shaky breath and rises to his feet. There's no point waiting outside her door. She won't be opening it until she leaves. He walks slowly, as though every step pains him, to his bedroom. There he pulls out several sheets of music that he's composed himself from a drawer in his desk and puts them in a neat stack. Carefully he staples them together, and leaves them laying on the floor outside Maka's door, along with a book he'd bought her for her birthday. She'll leave before he wakes up, this he knows. He won't get a chance to give them to her himself, and he can't leave them anywhere else; she'll leave immediately, with no side trips to the kitchen or the living room. Then Soul retreats to his room, and retrieves the acoustic guitar from his closet, the one Maka had given him for Christmas the year before last.

He runs a quick sound check to find it still perfectly tuned, and starts to play. He doesn't remember the name of the song, but he remembers the lyrics. So quietly, he begins to sing.

Johnny's daddy was takin' him fishing,
When he was eight years old
A little girl came through the front gate, holdin' a fishing pole
His dad looked down and smiled
Said we can't leave her behind
Son I know you don't want her to go
But someday you'll change your mind

And Johnny said
Take Jimmy Johnson
Take Tommy Thompson
Take my best friend Bo
Take anybody that you want as
Long as she don't go
Take any boy in the world
Daddy please, don't take the girl

Same old boy, same sweet girl
Ten years down the road
He held her tight and kissed her lips in,
Front of the picture show
Stranger came and pulled a gun
Grabbed her by the arm
Said if you do what I tell you to there
Won't be any harm

And Johnny said
Take my money
take my wallet
Take my credit cards
Here's a watch that my grandpa gave me
Here's the key to my car
Mister give it a whirl
But please, don't take the girl

Same old boy, same sweet girl
Five years down the road
There's gonna be a little one and she says it's time to go
Doctor says the baby's fine,
But you'll have to leave
'Cause his mama's fadin' fast and
Johnny hit his knees

And there he prayed
Take the very breath you gave me
Take the heart from my chest
I'll gladly take her place if you let me
Make this my last request
Take me outa this world
God please, don't take the girl

Johnny's daddy, was takin' him fishing, when he was eight years old…

Soul sighs and wipes away the tears that have run down his face. He sits the guitar down by his bed, and curls up in a ball on top of the comforter like a child afraid of the shadows. He wonders if there is really a God out there, besides Lord Death, and for the first time in his life, he hopes there was, so that his prayers will not go unnoticed.

"Please show me a way to keep her. I can't lose her," he whispers.

In the room next door, Maka is stretched out on her bed now, rolling through the music on her iPod with the headphones stuffed into her ears.

I couldn't give a damn what you said to me
I don't really care what you think of me
Cause either way you're gonna think what you believe
There's nothing you could say that would hurt me

If only that were true… thinks Maka sadly. Everything Soul had said has hurt her.

I'm better off without you anyway
I thought it would be hard but I'm okay
I don't need you if you're gonna be that way
Cause with me it's all or nothing

I'm sick of this shit, don't deny
You're a waste of time
I'm sick of this shit, don't ask why

I hate you now so go away from me
You're gone, so long, I can do better, I can do better
Hey, hey you, I found myself again
That's why you're gone, I can do better, I can do better

On a spark of hurtful inspiration Maka unplugs her earphones and hooks up her iPod to her speakers, turning up the volume until she is sure Soul would hear it.

You're so full of shit, I can't stand
The way you act I just can't comprehend
I don't think that you can handle it
I'm way over, over it

I will drink as much Limoncello as I can
And I'll do it again and again
I don't really care what you have to say
Cause you know, you know you're nothing

I'm sick of your shit, don't deny
You're a waste of time
I'm sick of your shit, don't ask why

I hate you now so go away from me
You're gone, so long, I can do better, I can do better
Hey, hey you, I found myself again
That's why you're gone, I can do better, I can do better

Whad'ya say, I told you so
You know that cause I always know
Get out my face, hey, hey
You're not my taste, hey, hey

Soul looks over at the wall he shares with Maka.

I am so sick of you
You're on my nerves, I want to puke
Get outa my face, hey, hey
You're not my taste, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey

I hate you now so go away from me
You're gone, so long, I can do better, I can do better
Hey, hey you I found myself again
That's why you're gone, I can do better, I can do better

I hate you now so go away from me
You're gone, so long, I can do better, I can do better
Hey, hey you I found myself again
That's why you're gone, I can do better, I can do better

His eyes sting, and, without any thought to how uncool it was, he rolls over, and for the first time since he's met Maka, he cries himself to sleep.

In the next room, Maka does the same, regretting the spiteful song but at the same time thinking it was darkly appropriate.

…..

Soul is listening to his iPod, laying on his bed, sinking farther into an unhealthy state of depression. His music is on shuffle, and country songs kept popping up on it. Maka had been messing with it again before she left. He hates country, except for a few choice songs by Tim McGraw, but he doesn't have the heart to change it. Especially when a darkly appropriate song comes up by Jason Michael Carroll

Maka is listening to the music she has by Jason Michael Carroll. Soul had made endless fun of her for liking country music, to which she tersely would reply that Tim McGraw, who was on his iPod, is country music.

Right now, the song that is playing is a depressingly accurate description of the mess she finds herself and Soul in.

I knew you wouldn't answer after the things we said that night
You were crying I grabbed the keys and said goodbye
Well hang on please don't hang up let me talk to our machine
I've had all this time to think about what you mean to me

And I know we said it's over
But my heart's telling me that that ain't right
And I know we can't be over
Cause I still wake up reaching for you in the night
It took leaving for me to realize there's no good in goodbye

I'm listening to the talking should I pick up the phone
And lay my pride aside and say come home
I've played that moment over time and time again
When giving up seemed easier than just giving in

And I know we said it's over
But my heart's telling me that that ain't right
And I know we can't be over
Cause I still wake up reaching for you in the night
It took leaving for me to realize there's no good in goodbye

I'll try to call you one more time
Baby if you'd just call me one more time

And I'll tell you, I'll tell you

I know we said it's over
But my heart's telling me that that ain't right
And I know it can't be over
Cause I still wake up reaching for you in the night
It took leaving for me to realize there's no good in goodbye

There's no good in goodbye
No good in goodbye

…

It's been a week since Maka left. Soul still sees her at school, but she refuses to talk to him, to even acknowledge his existence. Their friends are worried, but Maka brushes off their concerns. Soul watches as he takes the backseat in his old meister's life, replaced by Harvar, who seems gleefully smug about this. The most Soul can say for the spear was that he seems to genuinely care for Maka, and he has no problem matching his wavelengths with hers.

Soul's depression slips farther and farther as the days drag by without her, but he insists that he's fine.

Then Harvar and Maka take their first mission together. When Soul notices that neither of them are at school and he asks Tsubaki about it, she tells him reluctantly that they've gone to hunt down a Kishin egg in New York, and that they'll be back in a couple of days. Soul runs to their apartment—he refuses to call it only his—and shuts himself inside. He doesn't come out until he hears a quiet knock, and then a key rattles in the front door.

Maka is trembling with the effort of just climbing the stairs to the flat. She has one hand pressed to her side, where a blood pulses relentlessly from a deep gash inflicted by that damn Kishin egg Michael Meyers. Another wound in her calf has rendered her unable to put any weight on her right leg. She knocks feebly on the door, but when no one opens up, she kneels slowly, painfully, and tugs a key from underneath the doormat. Straightening just as slowly, she inserts the key into the keyhole with shaking fingers. It takes several tries, but finally she manages to unlock the door and push it open. She hobbles in, using the wall for support.

"Soul?" she calls weakly. Black spots dance in her vision, and every sound seems to be coming from the opposite end of a long tunnel. The creak of a door, the thundering of furious footfalls, the exclamation, half terrified, half surprised.

Maka's knees give way altogether, and the last thing she is aware of are strong arms catching her before she hits the floor.

Soul swears and lunges forward, catching his meister before she can fall to the floor. She is covered in blood, and more of it is oozing thickly from her side, and from her leg.

"Damn!" Soul curses again. "We need to get you to Stein!"

He starts to leave, but realizes that if he doesn't staunch the bleeding first, she'll bleed out long before they could ever reach the school.

"Fuck," he mutters, turning and going to lay her down on the sofa, heedless of the blood. Maka's eyelids flutter and open; the green is dull, flat, but spark just a little when they rest on Soul's pale, panicked face.

"Hey," she croaks.

Soul makes a sound something like a cross between a sob, a laugh, and a choke.

"Hey? You show up in our apartment bleeding out your life and all you say is hey?" he makes a weak attempt at an irritated expression.

"Not much…to say…" she breathes. Her voice is so soft that Soul has to lean in to hear her. "Except…sorry…"

He pulls back sharply, glaring at her.

"Sorry?"

She nods. "For being such a bitch this past week."

Soul gives a half-hearted chuckle. "It was warranted."

She shakes her head and opens her mouth, but before she can speak, a shuddering cough shakes her, and blood spatters her chest.

"Hold that thought, Maka, I need to stop the bleeding," Soul commands. "Then I'll take you to the Academy. Stein'll fix you up."

He moves to stand and go for their first aid kit, but Maka's hand catches his wrist. The fragility of her grip, as well as the freezing temperature of her skin, scares Soul.

"No, Soul. I just wanted…to say…I was sorry," she gasps. "For everything. Not just…this week. Every time I…hit you or…called you names…I'm sorry. Especially for that…night at the club. You were always…my best friend…always…the very coolest…"

"Maka, what're you talking about?" he says, terror seizing him. Why is she saying this?

She makes a brave attempt at a smile; the effect is ruined by the blood that smears her lips like grotesque lip gloss.

"I never wanted…another partner…I just thought…that was what you wanted…I didn't want to hold you back…"

"Maka," Soul pleads. "Let me clean you up! Let me take you to Stein!"

She shakes her head, and tries to speak again. Soul leans down until her lips brush his ear, and can barely make out her words.

"Came…here…first. Knew I…wouldn't make…it. Wanted you…to know…I'll always…care…'bout you. You were…coolest partner…could have. Thank you…Soul."

"Maka?" he chokes, his throat closing up. "What're you saying?"

"Not…make it…I just…" she breathes hoarsely. Soul's heart feels as though it is caught in an icy, iron fist, squeezing it hard.

"Yeah, Maka? What is it?" he presses, finding her hand. She twines her fingers with his. Her lips tilt up against his ear.

"Always…impatient…" she says, and she has the gall to sound amused. "S-Soul…I…I love…I love you…"

Time freezes. As if in slow motion, Soul watches Maka's head fall back onto the couch, eyes rolling back into her head. Her chest takes one final, shuddering breath, her heart makes one last brave gallop, and she falls still. Her hand falls slack in his.

"Maka," Soul murmurs. This is a joke. It has to be. Maka Albarn, tough-as-nails two-star scythe meister, cannot be dead. Cannot be gone. She had defeated the Kishin Asura with only her fist. How can this have happened to her because of a simple Kishin egg, when she had a weapon? When she had Harvar?

Harvar…

Damn that spear! He'd let this happen! This is his fault! When Soul gets a hold of him, that boy will learn firsthand if his stones can indeed be kicked into his throat. If Soul had been with Maka, they'd have had their perfect resonance, and she would have been fine. Soul would never have let this happen.

Hold on. Resonance. That was it! There's still a chance. It's beyond faint, but Soul can still sense her wavelength. If he can grasp onto it, and amplify it like they did during Soul Resonance, she might still have a chance.

He closes his eyes, and gives it everything he's got.

…

"Thank God for cell phones, huh?" Blackstar says idly from where he sits upside-down on one of the chairs in the waiting room.

Once Soul had strengthened Maka's own soul wavelength, he had called Professor Stein and told him to get to the flat ASAP. Blackstar, who'd been skipping anyway, followed the professor. When he found out the extent of the situation, he immediately contacted Kid and the others. They were due to show up anytime.

Stein had taken Maka to the school in an ambulance; Soul had been allowed to ride in the back with her, holding her hand tightly and telling her, even though she couldn't hear him, that she would be alright, that everything was okay. People were already going to work on her in the back of the vehicle, knowing that they had to move fast or lose her. And nobody wanted to lose the DWMA's prize student.

Now Soul and Blackstar are waiting out in the hall as they work feverishly on the dying meister in the Emergency Room.

Time has been passing about as quickly as a snail with a limp for Soul, who looks at his watch every few minutes, driving himself crazy with fear and worry. He's already pulled out several locks of his own hair, but after Blackstar's commentary that he would go bald prematurely, and how uncool that was, he resigns himself to plucking viciously at the hem of his sweatshirt.

Minutes tick by, and with each one, the lump in Soul's throat grows, and another shard of glass punctures his heart, and another blockage seems to prevent him from breathing properly.

Then, just as Soul is about to look at his watch, the door swings open and Stein comes out, looking haggard but fairly pleased. Soul is on his feet in an instant.

"How is she?" he demands.

Stein blinks.

"Have you been out here this whole time?" he asks in confusion. "Why didn't you go eat or sleep or something?"

"I've got my best friend's blood splattered in the front half of my apartment, and you think I could sleep?" he says incredulously. Stein shrugs.

"I don't know. Seems better than waiting out here for hours."

"How is she?" Blackstar echoes Soul when Stein doesn't speak further.

Stein gives a surprisingly big, relieved smile.

"The surgery was a complete success. Nothing vital was damaged beyond repair. Some stitches along the worst cuts, and a lot of rest, and she should make a total recovery."

Soul's shoulders sag with relief. "Can I go in and see her?"

"Give it five minutes. The others will clear out and give you some privacy," Stein says, and turns and heads down the hall, lighting a cigarette as he went.

"Thank Death," groans Soul, and moves to fling open the door. Blackstar stops him.

"Dude, don't you think you should wait? Stein said five minutes. She's not going anywhere."

"I have to see her, Blackstar," Soul insists. Blackstar shrugs and lets him go.

Without another word, Soul opens the door and slips inside. Nygus is talking quietly with Sid against the far wall; when Soul comes in, they look up and nod to him. He enters, and they brush past him on their way out. Privacy. Exactly what he needs right now. Because his eyes have fallen on Maka, in a white hospital bed, her hair carefully combed. The white blanket is pulled up to her armpits; her arms lay over the sterile cover at her sides. She is hooked up to a half-dozen machines and drips, and she has one of those tube things under her nose to help her breathe. She is pale, her lips colorless, but her chest is moving again, albeit only slightly.

"Maka…" he breathes, and she twitches. He walks unsteadily to her bedside and sinks to his knees, taking her needle-free hand in both of his. She twitches again, and murmurs something that sounds like his name. He feels the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

She has an impressive shiner, and a minor scratch along one cheek. Bandages wrap around her left arm, all the way to where the needles forced in fluid and blood, and they must wrapped around her entire torso, because they creep from beneath the sheets and wrap all the way around her neck as well.

"Maka," Soul says, knowing that she wasn't conscious, and not trying to wake her up, but needing to get it off his chest now before it threatened to crush him. "Maka, you have nothing to be sorry for. I deserved every single Maka-Chop, every single name you called me. I deserved your treatment this past week. I called you stupid, untrue things. No one could be less boring, less interesting, less plain. You're the most exciting, adventurous, cool person I've ever met. You're beyond hot, too.

I was stupid and selfish and thoughtless and wrong whenever I said anything else. I know you don't forgive me—Hell, I don't blame you. I wouldn't forgive me. But I want you to know how sorry I am. Really, truly sorry. It's just that, well, that issue back at the club had really wound me up, and the dumbest thing could've set me off. I'm so sorry. I wasn't pissed at you. Never you. I don't want to lose you. I know I sound like Crona right now, but I couldn't deal with it if I lost you. If something happened to you, I'd never be able to live with myself. I want you to know that, no matter what, I still consider you my meister. I'll never take another one, not as long as I'm alive. Maka, I'm sorry. I made a truly impressive screw-up, even for me. I can only hope that someday you'll be able to forgive me."

He lays his head down on the bed, tears once more streaking down his face. So, he doesn't see when Maka's lips curve up.

"Idiot," she whispers. His head whips up; Maka is looking at him with tired emerald eyes, but there is new life in them. She squeezes his hands, and he squeezes back. "Of course I forgive you. Why else would I show up at our flat instead of coming straight here?"

"Our flat," repeats Soul. "You're coming back?"

Maka smiles and nods.

"I missed you, moron."

"But…" A sour taste enters Soul's mouth. "What about Harvar?"

Maka wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.

"Harvar's nice and all, but he wanted something I couldn't give him. Plus, Ox called while we were in New York. Kim and Jackie made up, and Ox got kicked to the curb. He'd have gone to you, but he knows you don't like him. So he requested that he take Harvar back. Harvar was all set to say no, but I convinced him to. It wasn't the same with him as it was with you."

Soul allows a small smile to cross his lips, but it vanishes quickly.

"How did he let this happen?" He gestures around at the machines and hook-ups.

"He didn't. Harvar took off as soon as the plane landed to find Ox. He sounded really pitiful on the phone." Maka snickers.

"Then how…"

"I walked."

"That bastard made you—"

"No, Soul, he offered me a ride," Maka interrupts quickly. "But I wanted to walk."

"Why? You were injured!"

Maka laughs, then winces and touches her free hand gingerly to her side.

"No, I wasn't. We took care of that Scream guy easy. But on my way back to the school, I was jumped by another one. I don't know how I missed it, but she came out of nowhere. I had to run; I couldn't get close enough to him to do any damage without a weapon. But I got lucky—just as the thing stabbed my in the leg, Liz, of all people, showed up with Pati in tow and they covered my escape. Kid's gonna have a conniption when he finds out that their number of souls is uneven again."

Soul chuckles, but sobers quickly.

"Maka…" he says softly.

"Hm?"

"Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?" She frowns.

"What you said, right before…before you passed out. Did you mean it?"

Maka flushes pink, but nods mutely. Soul feels his signature toothy, lop-sided grin spread across his face.

"Damn, that's so uncool," he says casually.

"Shut up, idiot!" Maka snaps furiously.

"Whoa, there, calm down. I only meant it was uncool that you confessed before me. The guy's supposed to do it first, isn't he?"

Maka blinks, then shock spreads across her face, followed by joy. Her entire face lights up like a little kid's on Christmas morning. Her eyes sparkle, shining all different shades of green, like they always do when she's happy.

"Really? You mean it, Soul?" she whispers. She doesn't dare hope. She can't risk the disappointment.

"Haven't said anything yet," he says blandly. Maka gives him a threatening look, and one of her books magically appeared in her hand. "Alright, alright!" he cowers. "Yeah, Maka, I mean it. I love you too. Always have. Always will. No matter how annoying you get."

The all-consuming happiness that explodes in her eyes makes a huge weight lift from Soul's shoulders, and the tight, constricting pain that he has felt in his chest vanished. He leans down, eyes drifting shut, breath warming his meister's lips, and plants a soft, gentle kiss on her mouth. She gasps.

"Relax…" he whispers against her lips. "Breathe."

Obediently she takes a shallow breath—he doesn't allow her more—and Soul kisses her more firmly, lips parting and moving against hers. She mimics him, if a bit more cautiously. He pulls her bottom lip into his mouth and nips it gently. She squeaks, but instead of drawing back, she reciprocates. They kiss harder, with a fiercer passion. Soul runs the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip, requesting entrance, and she only too eagerly cooperates, shivering when his tongue floods her mouth, massaging her own and exploring every single hollow and curve of the moist cavern. She groans and knots her needle-free hand into his thick white hair, pulling him closer. His own hands tangle in her silky, ash blonde locks, urging her farther. Their tongues tangles, rubbing sensually against each other.

Soul doesn't realize that Maka's hand has started roaming from his hair until he feels the sudden pressure against the bulge in his pants. He gasps and whips a hand down to move hers away. He pulls back, becoming aware that, if it goes any farther, things would get very awkward. Maka is, after all, connected to two drips and several other various machines. Not to mention the fact that they're in the infirmary of their school.

"Stop, Maka," he says, surprised at how rough his voice sounds.

She does, although she doesn't look pleased. Soul laughs and cups her face in his palm, stroking her bottom lip lightly with his thumb.

"I don't know about you, but I wouldn't really want one of the professors to barge in on something like tha—"

At that very moment, the door bursts open, and Liz and Pati explode into the room. Their eyes immediately light on Maka and they all but fly to her side, shoving Soul back in their haste to get to her. Tsubaki and Kid follow more sedately, looking tired and anxious.

"Maka! You're okay!" Liz cries, hugging the young girl tightly.

"Maka's okay!" Pati shouts happily. "Maka's fine!"

"Owowowowowowow!" Maka gasps, pushing feebly at the older Thompson.

Soul instantly is on his feet and pulling the girl off of his meister.

"She's still hurt guys!" he snaps. "Take it easy!"

"Oh, Maka!" Tsubaki gasps in relief. "You're alright!"

"Define alright," Maka grumbles, gingerly prodding her side.

"Alright being alive," Kid offered, then let out his own words of relief. "Thank goodness you're okay. I was very worried when I saw where that thing had cut you. Don't worry, though. Michael Meyers is no more than a soul in Pati's clip now. We'll have to go out very soon to even your numbers back up, girls."

"Yay…" Liz sighs.

"Hey guys?" Soul says, looking them all over. "Where's Blackstar?"

Everyone simultaneously looks back to the door.

"He didn't want to come in," Tsubaki says quietly. "He feels really bad that something like that had happened and he didn't get a piece of the thing that did it."

"Hey Blackstar!" Maka shouts. "Get your ass in here!"

Obediently the blue-haired boy comes in, indeed looking rather downcast. He walks to Maka's bedside without a word.

"Blackstar, look at me," Maka orders.

Blackstar looks up; his eyes are dark with anger and guilt. The book that never left Maka's hand sails through the air and takes the assassin to the ground.

"Gah! What the Hell was that for, Maka?" he shouts, cradling his aching skull. Maka sniffs and pulls the book out of the smoking crater in his head.

"For thinking that you should have done something to fix this," Maka pointed at herself. "Getting hurt is an occupational hazard for us, guys. Get used to it."

Everybody laughs, but inside, they all think the same thing. They will never be used to seeing their friends get hurt. And what would they do, if it was their own partner that was lying in that hospital bed, or worse, their own partner starring in a funeral?

But they shake off their thoughts. Maka is right, as usual. As meisters and weapons, it is indeed an occupational hazard, getting hurt. They would always figure out a way to make it out. They were all too tough to be brought down. They'll always make it through.

That is the promise they all make that day, maybe not out loud, but it doesn't need to be. They're all thinking it.