Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater nor the song lyrics to 24 and Just a Ride by Jem.
Appreciation
by. Poisoned Scarlet
Part I
"It's as clear as crystal
The places I've been, the people I've seen
Plans I made, start to fade
The sun is setting gold
Thought I would grow old
It wasn't to be..."
Her wrists were chafed raw by the cuffs.
She sunk the heel of her boot into the stone floor to hold herself up against the wall. Her shoulders were sore; the chains reaching up too high for her to comfortably stand. If she wasn't careful, she would slide forward and hang like a lifeless puppet.
It had been two days since she last ate. Her stomach felt empty and sour.
The only source of water she had was the leaky pipe above her head that dripped whenever one of them twisted the faucet in the bathroom.
It wasn't often they did that.
Serving Lord Death had always been a dream of hers since she was a little girl. Her father gloated about him to her regularly, filling her young mind with so much colorful imagery. She would often squeal and eagerly agree whenever her father said that one day, she would be at the top with Lord Death. That one day, she would be the one to create a strong Deathscythe like her mama had. That one day, she would make them both very proud...
But then her goals skewed somewhere when she was ten.
Her papa wasn't as mighty and awing as she believed.
He was no better than those mean men in the TV drama's her mama would sometimes watch with her.
He cheated, he lied, and he gambled.
He basked in the sin of his nightlife and she was witness to nearly every terrible thing he did behind her mama's back: how he'd let other girls hang on his arms like trophies when her mama was overseas at work, how he would sometimes drink himself so blind he'd stumble through the doorway of their home and fall flat on his face, or how he even had the audacity to whisper don't tell mama about this, okay, Maka-chan? and she was dumb enough to listen.
By the time her mama got sick of his lies and divorced him, she was determined to create the greatest Deathscythe Lord Death had ever seen for different reasons: to spite the father she had once adored, not because she wanted to make her papa proud. She shifted her attention to her mama; her strong, independent, mama. She deserved it, Maka had decided, not her useless father.
She partnered up with Soul Eater Evans, a musically inclined Demon Scythe, and together they grew into a pair strong enough to take on witches and Kishin's alike. Distrusting him at first due to his gender, she kept her distance and tried to think nothing of their growing bond. But she supposed it was inevitable that she'd begin to befriend him, tolerate him, then care for him; like him, then love him.
She still didn't quite know when the lines of friendship and longing had smudged. But she did know when their missions became more intense: right after Kishin Asura's downfall. All of them – Black Star and Tsubaki, Kid and the Thompson Sisters – began to tackle more difficult missions, extended ones, and ones that had very little survival rates at times.
It didn't take long for her to accomplish her goal, either: convert Soul into a Deathscythe.
Then she made the biggest mistake in her life, the mistake she'd promised herself she would never make: she underestimated her opponent. Of course, her opponent had come off laughingly weak, it could be justified that she had let her guard down. However, that didn't erase the fact that she'd totally underestimated him.
She hadn't over-analyzed the situation like she had been told so many times not to do but still did out of habit. Except for that one time...
She hadn't thought that maybe he was feigning injury to have her drop her guard, that maybe she should have been more careful because her Soul Perception had grown too dangerous for witches to ignore, or that maybe she should have heeded Stein's advice to watch her back and never let her guard down.
Not over-analyzing the situation had been a bad move; a mistake that was now costing her dearly.
That was her fighting style, why had she changed it at the last moment? Thinking things through, finding a path, and attacking with the aid of Soul's strategic genius – that was her style. When she slowly began to stop that cycle, to stop thinking in exchange for blind fighting, it was bound to end in failure because that simply wasn't the type of person she had been raised to be.
She wished she could have thought this through at home, in her bed, during one of those nights when she couldn't sleep because her mind was abuzz with thoughts...
Not in a cold holding cell, chained to the wall, helpless to her fate.
"Hey, you still alive in there?"
Maka rose her head, squinting against the bright light from the open door.
She hadn't seen daylight in nearly three days and adjusting to it now was painful.
"Lady Tanya is growing bored of your games." Her captor relayed, walking into the dingy cell. "If you don't give us the information we want, we will kill you." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his cold, black, eyes. "Don't think we're playing around, either. You're far too dangerous to be walking around as it is. Lady Maaba would be relieved to have someone like you out of her way..."
Maka didn't comment – partially because he had punched her hard enough to dislocate her jaw a few hours ago (she had painfully snapped it back into place but she was still too sore to speak) and partially because she wouldn't betray her friends, her family, her god, for a waste of skin like him.
"Still not talking, eh?"
He dropped her chin.
"Twenty four hours." He stated. Maka pushed off the ground when she felt she was slipping. "You have twenty four hours to make up your mind and tell us where Death hid the Dark Arts Spellbook of Witchcraft."
Maka tried to speak but she only managed a breathless grunt, still struggling to push herself up the wall because her right shoulder was killing her.
"Choose wisely."
The door shut.
"...But... I don't know where—it is." She finally confessed, to nothing but darkness.
And she really didn't.
Liz and Patty had been the ones to take that mission with Death the Kid, and Liz had been the one who snatched the spellbook from right under their noses before bolting away.
They had the wrong girl.
Too bad they didn't believe her.
"In eighteen hours they'll be laying flowers on my life..."
She hacked out blood.
He waited for her fit to pass before delivering another blow to her gut.
Her shackles clinked and clanked against stone, the noise sharp and piercing in her ears as her vision distorted.
"Where's the book?"
"I.. don't know!"
Another kick, another wheeze.
The same question, the same answer.
It was a vicious cycle.
Maka was sure her interrogator just liked kicking her when she was down, just liked seeing her blood on the stone, because he didn't seem very concerned about whether she answered right or not.
He knew what she would answer and he just beat her out of protocol and nothing more: he just liked extracting his revenge on an object that was invaluable to the God that set up rules for the people to obey and bow down to.
Laws that prevented him the freedom he longed for.
"Has she said anything yet?" Someone else asked, as Maka swallowed deep mouthfuls of air.
"No, not yet."
"Lady Tanya is getting tired of waiting for her to speak."
"Just eighteen more hours to go... she'll talk, don't worry. I'll make sure of it."
Maka felt blood gush from her broken nose, stream down her chin and taint the floor a nasty scarlet.
Scarlet...
Crimson, like his eyes.
She deliriously watched her blood pool around her boots before black overcame her.
"In thirteen hours they'll be laying flowers on my life
It's over tonight..."
Mirror.
Mirror, mirror, breath!
Fog.
42 42 564...
He's so stupid.
He's so dumb.
He brought in that mirror to show her her bloody face, her bruised and bloody lips, and her hopeless and empty eyes.
He brought it in to induce despair.
But he had only rooted hope in her heart.
He broke it, crushing it under his foot, and said he would be back after a little break because he grew bored of hitting and kicking and slapping a foolish girl like her, and he had left, shutting the door and, with it, the only light she had been able to see for the past few hours.
I need that mirror! Maka thought desperately, sliding down the wall until she hung limply. Her boot shakily dragged a decent shard of glass closer to her. She was stumped as to what to do next. Finally, she painstakingly toed off her boot, careful not to cut herself when she tried to grab the piece of glass between her toes.
However, it was too late: she had already cut through the tender webbing. She bit down a cry when she felt blood seep through her sock.
This, however, was no time to be weak. She had to contact Lord Death! She had to do something, and she was not about to waste this golden opportunity because of a dumb little cut.
She brought her leg up slowly, breathing in deeply and leaning heavily against the wall as her foot reached up to her head. She had always been flexible, which would account to why she was so great at slipping away from the enemies clutches, and her fingers reached out desperately for her foot.
She had to really force herself, a cry escaping her lips when she stretched beyond her reach.
She felt the cold glass against her trembling fingertips, and suddenly it was worth the pain.
Salvation, or perhaps an opportunity to make everything right again, lay in her hands.
The door opened and Maka panicked, clutching the piece of glass in her palm and fearfully looking up at the interrogators grinning face.
"Ready for round two, beautiful?"
"Fuck you!" Maka sneered.
The glass cut through her skin with every kick and mock.
But she still had it and that was all that mattered.
"In just eight hours they'll be laying flowers on my life
It's over tonight
I'm not messing, no, I need your blessing..."
42 42 564 whenever you want to knock on Death's door...
The cell was cold, frosty, but good for her to simply breathe against the glass and write in the number in with shaky fingers. It almost didn't fit but she made it fit, and she was so, so grateful for the piece of glass; so, so grateful to be able to say goodbye one last time and make things right again. Because she knew her fate was sealed the instant they tossed her into the cell. There was no going around it.
"Maka! Maka-chan, is that really you?" His voice, jubilant and hyper, sounded misplaced in a building where only trickery and insanity abounded. "Thank goodness!"
"Lord Death!" Maka whispered. "I'm so glad I was able to contact you... I thought for sure they'd notice the glass and take it away from me!"
"Maka-chan, I need you to tell me your location immediately." He cut to the chase. She guessed it was because she must look like shit and he was most definitely convinced she wouldn't be able to take anymore beatings. He was, after all, a God of Death. He must surely know the telltale signs of it. "We'll come to your aid ASAP!"
"But I-I don't know where I am!" Maka admitted, defeated. "They blind-folded me when I regained consciousness. All I remember hearing was that they...they were going to be late to some game. I'm so sorry, Lord Death, I should have been more careful! This is all my fault, if only I hadn't... let my guard down, then he wouldn't have kidnapped me and..."
"Are you sure you have no idea? Think, Maka, think! Anything will do!"
"None whatsoever." Maka sighed. "They haven't given any hint to where I'm being kept."
It was silent for a moment.
The only option they had left felt tangible; weighed the air between them with its implications.
"I see... Do you wish to see Soul and your friends?" One last time was what he failed to say but she still heard it loud and clear. Maka nodded heavily, and there was a brief period of silence, when she could only passively think this was it, before a door crashed open on the other side of the glass. She rose dull eyes as Soul and her friends barged in, breathless but relieved to hear news about her.
Until they saw her bittersweet smile, the pitiful greeting of, "Hey you guys..." that was so horribly out of place when she was less than seven hours away from death.
"Maka-chan!" Tsubaki gasped, covering her mouth in horror. She stared at the blood on her face, tears welling in her eyes. Maka wished she had cleaned up a little bit before contacting them. "Oh, Maka-chan..." She cried.
"Maka..." Soul breathed, with a sharp chord of despair. She didn't want to see that helpless look on his face ever again but she realized she wouldn't be able to keep that thought for much longer.
Black Star clenched his hands, Kid was grimly looking at his father, and the Thompson sisters were stuck silent, staring at Maka with horror at how abused she was.
"Where are you, Maka?" Soul demanded, swallowing his shock. "Maka, where the hell are you? We'll come save you! Just hold up a little longer and we'll—!"
"No."
"What?"
Maka shook her head, forcing her eyes to stay open. She just needed a few minutes. A few minutes would be enough to make amends and apologize for promises she would not be able to fulfill. "You can't come save me because I don't know where I am." She revealed, bleakly. "I don't know where they took me... All I know is that in less than seven hours, they're going to kill me. If I don't die of blood loss first, that is." Maka added morbidly, closing her eyes against a wave of nausea.
"Don't say stupid shit like that, Maka!" Black Star roared, before anyone else could reply. "I'm going to save you. I'm going to save your dumb ass and drag you back here and then you'll be so grateful that I saved your sorry butt that you'll never Maka Chop me again!" He screamed, pointing an accusing finger at her. A smile ghosted her lips at his strong but empty words. "Do you hear me? We're coming to save you, Maka, so don't you dare give up on us!"
"Black Star is right!" Tsubaki second, clutching her heart and steadying her voice. "We're going to save you, Maka! Please don't speak like this! Y-you're not going to die!"
Maka dropped her eyes to her muddy boot for a moment. "You always knew what to say to make me feel better, Tsubaki." Maka began, with a soft smile. "You were always like a sister to me...you and Black Star always cheered me up, even if Black Star just annoyed me half the time."
"Maka, please, don't do this..." Tsubaki pleaded, a sob escaping her because her friends words sounded more like a parting than a fleeting comment.
"Maka, that's enough!" Soul demanded harshly; jaw tight, fists balled by his side. "You're not going to die so shut up!"
"Soul..." Maka's face cracked in anguish for a split second before she composed herself again. But they all caught it. "I'm so sorry for everything."
"Maka..."
"You always put up with me and my temper... I always hit you with my books, too." She lowered her eyes, ashamed for her actions. "I'm sorry..."
"Stop it. I don't care about that. Maka, it doesn't matter to me!" Soul said, voice wavering. She wasn't dying; she was being emotional again, that was all. He refused to believe otherwise. She wasn't going to die – she couldn't, she was his partner! Who was he without his master? Nothing but a useless tool; a useless, broken, tool. "You're not going to die. Talking like that – isn't cool at all!"
"You're not uncool, even if I told you you were sometimes..." Maka continued. She allowed a small, but genuine, smile to brief her lips. "You were the coolest partner I could have ever asked for. I hoped to be able to train you but I...I guess that c-can't happen anymore." Her voice broke and, along with it, a strong pain blossomed in her chest; stronger than the cuts and bruises adorning her body. She couldn't hold back tears anymore: the truth had sunk in, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Damn it, Maka!" He snarled, charging up to the mirror. He gripped it on either side, shouting: "Shut up, you moron! Shut the fuck up! You're not going to die! We're going to save you before that happens! This was my fault and I'm not going to give up on you until we get you out of there!"
"This isn't your fault!" Maka shouted back. "I was the one who underestimated our opponent!"
"But I should have been able to protect you! But I didn't – I failed..." Soul ground his teeth, knuckles snow white. He hung his head. "I failed you, Maka.."
"No, you didn't." Maka whispered, throat tight with emotion. "You couldn't have known that he would come from behind to attack me. We both thought we defeated him. It wasn't your fault – it was mine for not noticing. It's a meister's duty to defeat the enemy, it's a weapons duty to aid the meister!"
"But it's also a weapons duty to protect their meister." Soul shut his eyes. It hurt so bad, seeing her so bloody and broken and all because he was too incompetent to do his job right. It hurt enough for him to hurl out his breakfast. The only thing that kept this from happening was sheer will power.
Maka wished she could reach out through the glass to bury her fingers in his white hair, to caress his cheek and tell him it wasn't his fault; too soothe him from the pain he was feeling in his soul. But she couldn't, and all she could do was imagine those loving gestures – gestures she would never be able to do. Despair choked her silent.
"MAKA!" Spirit screamed into the room, panicked and teary-eyed. All heads snapped to him. "MY ANGEL, WHERE ARE YOU? MAKAAA!"
Soul darkly looked toward the man who gasped for breath as he desperately searched for his daughter. "MA—!" He choked off when he finally saw her, her exhausted and sunken eyes looking at him wearily. "Maka, what is this...?" His voice cracked. He looked around in search for answers. "Wh-what...?"
"Papa..."
It's too tragic.
She guessed she should be grateful to be offered an opportunity to make amends.
The conversation with her father fluctuated from serious to her being annoyed with his constant wailing. But in the end, there was only one thing they shared, and it was this that made his legs weak and made her eyes water. She was already crying by the time her father finished telling her how much he loved her; how much he regretted his actions, his carelessness, and his neglect. How she was right all along: he was an idiot, but he was an idiot who adored his daughter to bits.
It broke her heart to hear those sincere words. She never thought she'd be able to hear such honest words from her father.
"Stupid papa!" Maka cried, shoulders shaking. Sobs escaped her. "You're so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
"I know." Spirit whispered, shutting his eyes against another wave of grief. "I know, Maka..."
"But I guess... you were a good papa." Maka smiled brokenly at him. "Even if you were stupid, you were the best father I could have asked for. I just wish mama—!" Her eyes widened and her breath caught, dropping her head to hide the fresh wave of despair. Her mother. How would her mother react to her death? "... Tell her I love her.. a lot."
Spirit numbly nodded, and that was when Maka noticed Stein was supporting him, his face wiped of emotion. He gazed evenly at her, nodding solemnly. He knew her fate already: there were no two ways about it. "You were always my best student." He simply said.
But his words conveyed so much more.
Maka smiled tremulously. "Thank you...you were always my f-favourite teacher."
"Father, I can't take this anymore!" Kid shouted into the gloom, making his presence known again. He strode forward, demanding: "There has to be a way to locate her – she is using a broken shard of a mirror, can't you simply pin-point her location using that?"
"It's... not that simple, kiddo." Lord Death said quietly. "The magic is so thick and powerful where she is being kept hostage that even I can't penetrate through it. She is very far away – that is the most information we have right now."
Kid sneered, gold eyes narrowed with grimness. "There has to be a way... There has to..."
Maka looked at Kid and said, very simply: "Maybe when you take your fathers place, you can figure out a way so this never happens again." He looked at her, his eyes tinted with an aged sadness. "I know you'll make a great God, Kid, but you better watch out..." She forced a laugh. "Black Star might take that spot from right under your nose."
Kid forced a smile for her sake.
Liz was crying loudly into Patty's chest, the younger sister rocking her side to side comfortingly. Maka gave them one glance and smiled at Patty, conveying her words into expressions the young girl could easily decipher. Patty's eyes watered even more and she buried her face into her sisters hair in reply, shaking her head frantically.
Maka lowered her eyes.
She couldn't bear the sight of her friends crying so hard for her, maybe this had been a mistake after all...
"DAMN IT!" Black Star bellowed, slamming a fist into the floor. It left a sizable dent."DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" Maka watched while he shook with rage at being unable to do anything; absolutely nothing. Tsubaki kneeled beside him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, the only comfort she could offer her meister.
"Black—!" Maka froze, her eyes wide with terror.
"Maka? Maka, what's wrong?" Soul asked, alarmed.
"They're—!"
"Are you ready to talk now?" They heard, as Maka hid the shard of glass in her palm. They could only hear now. "You have five hours to make up your mind. She wants the spellbook now."
"... I don't know where it is."
"This again, huh? You really like getting the shit beaten out of you, don't you?"
She didn't reply.
Soul shook with a homicidal rage.
He wanted to rip him apart for hurting his meister – watch his blood spill, watch his guts and flesh and muscles tear at the touch of his scythe – !
"You're making me miss the game! It's the Chicago Bulls VS Shit City. I'd tell you who wins but you'll be dead by then. Ahh, decisions, decisions... I could leave you here and kill you later or I could go watch the game. Eh, what the hell? You're as good as dead anyway. These tickets cost me half my salary, too, and I'm not about to give 'em away!"
Soul froze.
Black Star sucked in a sharp breath.
Tickets.
Basketball tickets.
Soul nearly gave himself a whiplash turning to Black Star, whose face had broken into a dangerous grin.
"Black Star..." Soul didn't dare to breath.
Bingo.
"Chicago." Black Star stated, with growing glee. "She's in Chicago!"
"But we don't know where in Chicago!" Kid reminded, impatient.
"But Stein does." Soul suddenly said. He turned to the professor, who caught on immediately. "Do you think you can sense her soul in such a big city?"
Stein smirked, slipping a cigarette between his lips. "If the magic is as thick as Lord Death says it is, I should be able to pinpoint their location – even if they have a barrier protecting them. From there, we can track down Maka. Leave it to me."
"Soul." Black Star called, staring straight at him. His eyes were stars that glittered dangerously, crackling with a volatile revenge. It was mirrored in his own bloody eyes, darker and thicker and drowned with bloodlust. The insanity that sparked within them was seemingly more terrifying than the sharp, spinning, stars in Black Star's eyes. "We're running out of time. We have to go now."
He nodded. "Right!"
"I'm coming, too." Kid interjected, sparing his father a glance. ""Liz, Patty, come on. We're going to rescue Maka. Father, if you would excuse me."
"I understand! Knock 'em dead, Kiddo!" The Death God watched as they assembled, as Tsubaki picked herself up and wiped her face of tears; face set with determination. Liz and Patty made their way to Kid, both still caught in the throes of grief for nearly losing their dear friend but with a new, hopeful, spark in their eyes.
Unity at its best.
He was proud of them.
"Lord Death?" Spirit called, staring at the floor. "I'm going, too."
"Are you sure, Spirit? It will be quite a difficult mission to take on when you're still so emotionally unstable. It won't be easy."
"I'm going." Spirit stated firmly. He turned to Stein, who stood leisurely toward the side, waiting for him to follow the group of students. Spirit gazed at the mirror, the mirror that had finally cut connection because Maka couldn't keep it on for much longer without being found out.
His daughter, being abused in such a horrible manner, being hurt so horrifyingly, all because of one error; one small mistake they were all guilty of.
She didn't deserve it.
He clenched his fists.
He would not fail as a father and allow his daughter to die in such ghastly conditions.
When she died, after he had passed away first, it would be in the arms of the person she loved and not in a dingy, cold and dirty, cell like some animal.
Spirit caught Soul's arm before they left.
"You better take good fucking care of her, you brat." Spirit sneered, his fingers digging into his flesh. He wasn't oblivious: he noticed the way they looked at each other, smiled at each other, laughed with each other. He didn't like it, but what choice did he have? He couldn't control what her heart wanted. "When she comes back, you better treat her like she's a goddess, do you hear me, Soul Eater? Or I'll personally gut you and decorate the Shibusen gates with your entrails." He threatened.
Soul stared at him, shocked he'd relinquish his daughter so easily, but the shock melted into understanding, and he smirked. "Loud and clear, you pervy Deathscythe."
Spirit managed a grim smile. "Good. C'mon! Get your ass moving! We have to save my daughter!"
"In just one hour they'll be laying flowers on my life
I'm not messing, no, I need your blessing
And your promise to live free
Please do it for me..."
Damn...
She hung from her shackles like a doll.
She had been for a good two hours now. Before the interrogator had left to watch his game, he had given her a good beating – going as far as stabbing a knife in her thigh and watching her bleed out for a while.
The blood was a steady flow. Although she had only lost a few splats of it before, now she was dripping it.
She rolled her head back, breathing laboriously.
That couldn't be good.
Everything felt surreal, the longer she bled out.
From the rhythmic drip, drip of the leaky pipe to the way her heart pounded within every inch of her body.
Her body couldn't support itself anymore as well – weakened by lack of food, water and now blood.
This is it.
She was going to die of blood loss first.
She wasn't too disappointed, to be honest.
She wasn't going to be victim to a witches magic, which had the power to destroy a soul, nor was she going to be stabbed or kicked to death, but rather she would die peacefully of blood loss. If she was lucky, she would lose consciousness first and die in her unconscious once there was no more blood left to pump through her heart.
But maybe she had already exhausted her good fortune by being able to say goodbye to the ones she cared for.
And even then, she hadn't done it very well.
Tsubaki, Black Star...
She never told them how she honestly did believe Black Star would surpass the gods one day in his own way, and Tsubaki would be right by his side the entire way; guiding him, caring for him, keeping him on the right path...
Kid, Liz and Patty...
She never told them they were always good friends; always there to cool her temper, Liz with her wit and Patty with her laugh. Kid had always been the one to bring her out of a bad mood with his hilarious OCD fits or his calm logic, and he had always been the one to discuss deeper educational and even moral reasons with her.
Papa, Mama...
Her mama was great, the best, and obviously she didn't match up if she was going to die so brutally. At least she had completed her goal of turning Soul into a Deathscythe; it made her feel accomplished that she had at least made it that far.
Her father, despite being a sinner and imperfect, would always be her papa – however dumb he sometimes was. She just wished she hadn't pushed him away for so long...
Professor Stein, Marie, Sid, Nygus...
Her teachers had always guided her, protected her, and trained her. They always made her push herself to her limit and never hesitated to point out her mistakes so that she could improve. They were always there to help her, and she was grateful to have met them.
Lord Death...
She had no other choice: to serve under a God was to obey his word. His word was law. She would lie for him, risk for him, and, apparently, die for him, too. She always took things far too seriously...this was the result of it, she supposed.
Soul...
First and foremost, she regretted not telling him she loved him. And that, because of him, she had managed to overcome her bias toward men. She was able to realize that not all of them were like her papa, that some did have admirable character traits and that some were trustworthy.
She never told him how he had earned her trust; earned her everything.
She never told him how she actually didn't mind when he propped his feet up on the coffee table or took up the entire space on the couch to watch television.
She never told him how she liked his attention, however much it pissed her off since he'd only crack jokes about her, or how she found it adorable when he slumped asleep against her shoulder after a long day.
So many things to say, too little time.
She hadn't had time to really think about her life, either: how many days she spent angry over pointless things or how many days she spent not doing the things she wanted because she was too lazy or under-confident.
So much time, gone.
So much time she wished she had at the moment...
An explosion jolted her awake.
She wasn't aware she had even lost consciousness until another explosion disturbed her. Noise came from outside the metal door, shouts for reinforcements and hollers that asked about the situation.
Her Soul Perception was weak due to her dying body but she just barely caught glimpses of the frenzy outside: how many souls, both witch and human alike, were running around wildly; in no apparent order.
Panicked.
Her Soul Perception shorted out abruptly and a giant headache took place behind her eyes. She must have overused it again – it had happened to her, what, sixteen hours or so ago, too? She couldn't really remember, the steady pulse of pain that rippled through her body prevented deeper thought. She shut her eyes and concentrated on the slowing beat of her heart.
That usually helped ease her headache.
The door slammed open but Maka barely reacted.
Footsteps rushed to her, and a voice went in and out of focus. When she finally managed to raise her head to look at her new torturer, she was shocked to find Professor Stein kneeling before her.
"Professor..." She rasped, as Stein picked the lock with the thin tip of his scalpel.
"Don't speak, Maka." He demanded, poking around the inner-workings of the lock. "You're too weak. Save your energy." She heard the live-saving click but she fell instead, her knees buckling under the sudden weight of herself. He caught her before she hit the floor, a twitch of a smile on his lips when he felt her hot blood leak on his hands.
He had to pause to control his spiking insanity.
"You are bleeding very heavily. I'll have to staunch the wound right here if we want to bring you back to Shibusen alive. Such unsanitary conditions, but I have no choice..." He laid her on the dirty floor, her fingers skimming the edge of the boot she had discarded in her rush to grab the piece of glass hours ago.
"AH!" Maka swallowed another cry, her nails digging into the floor as he evaluated her wounds. She was sure, when he applied pressure again, she fainted from sheer overload, because the next time she became aware of anything, she was being carried down a hall and lights were flashing by her like the strobe lights from Kid's late night parties.
"I got her! Move out!" Stein shouted over the discord, his voice carrying perfectly despite the static. Maka weakly turned her head, able to make out some familiar faces. She saw Kid had soul resonated with his weapons, taking on a small army of henchmen. Black Star was eliminating his enemies from left to right; the elegant black tattoos on his face alight with the power of their resonance.
And Soul...
"Soul..." Maka whispered. Stein glanced at her briefly. He was fighting, too – bringing them down with skill, skill she didn't even know where he learned from until she caught a familiar move; the quick side-step that she often did when she was wielding him.
Stein started forward again, tearing them from her sight, and Maka grieved the loss.
She wanted to keep seeing him, them, because she had come so close to death and realized she had appreciated so little.
Cold assaulted her seconds after. It was freezing outside, colder than the inside of her cell because at least the size of her cell had been able to contain some warmth.
Outside was simply deathly.
Her eyes sought the sky that was a starless black, a shadowed moon hanging far up above. Clouds circled about it, gunmetal gray against the indigo of the sky. She could see the air above her swirl with bits of ice from the cold.
In Death City, she wasn't able to see the stars unless she went to the outskirts of town.
She suddenly wanted to see the stars again.
Maka closed her eyes as Stein carried her to safety.
That time she dreamt of bright, glimmering, stars behind the wide grins of her friends and family.
"And I can't believe how I've been wasting my life..."
A.N: Are you convinced I have no life now? But I enjoy every second of it, so don't worry your pretty little heads :D
Yes, this does contain a part two, which is her recovery period. Lucky you, huh?
Maan, I listen to way too much music. Soul would be proud XD
Scarlett