Inspired by the Soul Eater story Slave by Doublebee. I don't own Soul Eater…that's Maka's job. Dang he's whipped. Could be considered OOC on Soul's part, but not really. Everyone is entitled to a panic attack or two, right?

The harsh jangling of piano keys made Maka cringe. He did this every time the black blood ran through his veins. He was a slave to the piano, playing harsh melodies that frightened Maka and made his fingers raw and sore. He'd broken through the skin and snapped the bones in three fingers last time. Maka was out running errands when he went into the black room in his mind and he'd been playing for hours by the time she got home, her arms full with grocery sacks and dry cleaning. She'd returned to a bloody keyboard and a mindlessly playing Soul. She'd had to call Dr. Stein to sedate him and treat his hands.

She stood in the door, biting her lip at the sight of him. He didn't acknowledge her presence, he never did. Piano is supposed to be his passion…not his torture, Maka thought desperately.

She paused behind him, hesitating a moment before acting. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Soul."

He didn't react, didn't make any sign he that he knew she was there. Not that she had expected him to, really, he was absolutely mindless when he played. There wasn't a thought in his head, no conscious awareness at all. He was a blank slate, a puppet that knew nothing but how to play. A slave to the piano and the blood.

She shook his shoulder. "Soul," she pressed, "Soul! Soul, please! Snap out of it! Soul!"

He didn't react at all. "Soul!" she yelled. But still he played, his eyes never leaving the keys.

Maka tried everything. She pleaded with him, shook him, even tried to pry his fingers from the keys.

"Soul," she said more softly. "Please wake up." She wrapped her arms around his middle and pulled as hard as she could. He didn't budge. She pushed him forcefully at the shoulders, but still he didn't move. He just mindlessly played, completely submissive to the black blood.

Maka searched her thoughts desperately. She didn't want to hurt him, not when he was so helpless, so utterly defenseless. Medusa herself could walk up and attempt to wring his neck and he wouldn't bat an eye.

He'd tried to struggle, before. Maka knew he did, she'd watched him fight. But not anymore. She knew why, she'd heard him muttering and whimpering as he fought to make his fingers stop moving. "Hurts…" It ripped her heart out to know that he was suffering.

She could call Doctor Stein to sedate him, but she knew how Soul felt about sedation. He never said it, not outright, but she knew it scared him, feeling that fuzzy and out-of-sorts. He was always worried that something would happen and he wouldn't be able to protect her. Not that he could right now anyways, not unless he woke up. Unless she could get through to him long enough to get him away from the piano, he'd play until he died of starvation. He wouldn't need sleep, he wouldn't be able to eat or drink.

If she could only drag him out for a second, just a second was all she needed. She scanned through her memories, searching for an idea. Finally, one came to mind.

"If you ever need me, you know I'm there. I'll always help you. It's what I do. I'm your Weapon, it's my duty to protect my Meister."

"I will always protect you."

"Don't be so stubborn Maka. If you need me, I'll always be there to help."

"Two words, Maka. Two words, and it doesn't matter how pissed I am, how sick or hurt or tired. Two words and I'm there in a second. Know what they are? 'Help me.' Two words and I'm there."

Maka hooked her arms under his and crossed her arms across his chest, gripping his shoulders. "Soul," she said softly, pressing her mouth to his ear. "Help me."

Soul jolted, hearing Maka's plea. It was less than a second, but it was enough. As soon as he tensed, Maka heaved backwards, yanking him away from the piano. His hands flailed for a moment, his fingers fumbling as if there were still keys beneath them. She pinned him down on the floor as he struggled. "Help me, Soul. Fight it. I need you. Wake up."

Maka…Soul swam towards the surface of the darkness that plagued him. After a long moment, his eyes focused, first on the ceiling, then on his meister. He gasped for breath, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. Spots wavered in his vision. His tense muscles went slack, his body totally limp. His neck relaxed completely, and he found himself staring at Maka's knee. His vision was hazy and his head felt foggy. His mind was packed with cotton as he drifted, a million miles away from his bedroom floor and Maka's worried face.

He barely felt his body rising when Maka pulled him to her. He was aware of his head and torso as distinct shapes only because of the hand in his hair and the arms cradling him to her.

"It's alright, Soul. It's over. Rest now." Maka's voice was faint, as if from very far away, and he was starting to get tunnel vision. "It's okay, you're safe now." Soul closed his eyes, resting for several minutes. Maka gently laid him down on the ground. Pillowing her own head under her arm, she rested him on her chest, keeping an arm firmly around him. She traced his relaxed face with her eyes and slowly drifted off herself.