I cannot disappoint. He believes in me, I know it, he appreciates me. He's just too important and I am nothing but a mere pawn to him. But if I could just show him my worth...

I cannot disappoint. She believes in me, I know it, she appreciates me. She's just too important and I am nothing but a mere pawn to her. But if I could just show her my worth...

A single figure made its way across the great Nevada desert. They were clad in black clothing with white details. A few miles further, a second figure, similar yet different in oh so many ways was walking in the opposite direction. Soon, they were able to see each other as distant points on the horizon. Neither of them was looking for conflict, nor had business with the other person. Yet fate seemed to want to have a little fun on that day. The heat coming from the mix of sand and drab earth had the perfect potential when it came to forming mirages, or deforming images, anyway. The consequences were undeniable though: the two figures, going about their own business somehow found themselves crossing with merely a few feet between them.

They ignored each other for a little while longer, before both turning simultaneously to face the other. Their fighting instincts had kicked in, not letting them turn their back on a potential enemy.

The sun beat down on the unmoving pair. One had grasped their right arm, the other's had tightened around the handle of a basket full of desert soil, as well as a few spindly plants and bits of chipped rock.

"State your name, intentions, and whether you're armed or not!"

The voice was raspy from a dry throat, as well as slightly strained. Were they nervous? Scared, maybe?

"C...C...Cr... Crona. I'm going back to m...my...mother's..."

The slackening in the basket-bearer's shoulders didn't even last until the end of the sentence.

"...an...and I'm always armed."

This was accompanied by the person reaching to their back and pulling out a large black sword, seemingly out of the thin, scalding air. The basket-bearer prepared their stance for combat, but the person in front of them didn't turn offensive. They simply wanted to state a fact, and effectively answer their question.

That didn't stop them from feeling nervous though.

"Slowly put that sword down on the ground if you don't want to get hurt."

Their potential opponent looked at the sword, puzzled for a moment. The basket was now by their feet, and they felt the magic flowing to their fingertips. They were ready.

"I...I don't think I can. Ragnarok's... Me. Nearly. I mean, he's my blood, so if I let go..."

"This twerp dies!"

The childish screech came out of nowhere. Both figures jumped, the untrusting one amassing the black (but somewhat stylish) magic around their wrist. This was it, this suspicious being needed to be eliminated.

"Nonono, wait! You're like her, aren't you! Ju...just look, no weapon, no weapon!"

The sword had indeed disappeared into a black haze, leaving the person defenceless apart from the meagre barrier of a crossed arm.

"I just nee...need to get back to...to Lady... I mean... Mother, I don't want to fight."

I don't want to go back there.

"Loo...look, I don't ha...have any money or anything..."

Wait a minute. A weapon. Merged with its Meister. With its own personality, its own thoughts, but sharing a body. Oh. Oh yes. This was good. This was their chance.

"I'm sorry to have been so impolite with you earlier on. Would you care to take a detour on your trip to my place before going back home?"

Playing it nice was not part of their normal behaviour, but that sword was creepy. And this was an invaluable individual, a one-in-a-million person with capabilities that Noah could simply not refuse in his collection. They were jealous already, but whatever Noah wanted, he would get for him. And he would certainly like this, for a surprise.

"Well... I...I...I'm sorry, bu..but I don't thi...think I can. I...I need to get back as quickly as possible."

The last sentence was said quickly and harshly, fear very present and engulfing the words like a storm a nutshell. Interesting.

"If she is your mother, then I think that she wouldn't mind if someone let you rest for the night after such a long walk, in a nice cool place, so that you would be ready to start your journey again and get there nice and fresh rather than all grumpy and tired, don't you think?"

This kid is dumb.

"Well... It still i...is quite far... And I guess sh..she would... wouldn't really know, so..."

"Good! Let's get going then!"

Why, why, why did I say that? She'll leave me, abandon me! But still... I really am thirsty, and tired, maybe I could... And he looks suspicious...Well, I can always defend myself, at least.

Yeah, this kid doesn't even have enough common sense to not follow a stranger. Ah well, she was destined to finish her days in a ditch anyway, by all accounts. At least she will get the greatest of honours in being part of Noah's collection. She doesn't deserve it.

"How far away is your pl...place, then?"

They were walking side by side, neither of them really wanting to let the other out of their peripheral vision.

"About two hours or so, if we continue walking like this."

Crona nodded. Distance and time were not the same in the desert, their length was as warped as the mirages they had been subjected to earlier on. Still, having a travelling companion may not be such a bad thing, and they were headed in approximately the right direction to get to the Lady's checkpoint, so...

It had cooled down slightly since their little face-off, and they now had a dirty tarmac road underneath the soles of their shoes rather than rocky desert soil. The silence remained unbroken, which put both of them at ease.

Good, she's following like a lamb to the slaughter. The only difference being that she is heading to a better place. I'm so jealous. But no, be nice to her, you don't want to fight her, it's easier to seem on her side so that she follows you willingly rather than you forcing her along.

Suddenly, a soft throat-clearing sound startled them out of their thoughts.

"Pl...please?"

He turned on them suddenly, nearly aggressively. Crona took a step back, but continued anyway.

"I...I woul...would like to know your name," they said, the end of the sentence fading to a whisper.

What is this? She wants my name? Is it possible that she may know who I am? Hmm. She didn't recognise me as soon as she saw me though, and I guess she would have attacked me on sight otherwise. Might as well play it safe, just in case.

After a few seconds, a stiff smile broke their thoughtful features, and they extended a hand to shake.

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself correctly. My name's... Cypress. Crona, that's right, isn't it? I've not been very kind, and I apologise for that. And sorry to have been so self-absorbed, and to have threatened you earlier on."

Crona looked at the hand, unsure of what they should do.

Compassion was something that Gopher didn't feel often. They were usually frustrated, and a rather hot-headed person. They tended to wallow in their own misery more often than not. But when the familiar, half-puzzled, half afraid expression of the pink-haired being appeared when faced with something as normal as a handshake, they wondered what could have broken them so, what level of neglect they had suffered up until then to find themself uncultured in such a way.

"Sure, sonny! There's no better way to start a conversation, if I may say so myself."

Ragnarok had emerged as suddenly as he had done earlier, and had slapped his pudgy white-gloved hand in the one which had been offered.

"I hope you've got some good things to eat once we get to your place, Pine Tree, because if not, I can assure you that you will not live to regret it," Ragnarok added in a lower, aggressive tone.

They stayed silent for a second, before Gopher let out a snigger, which turned into full-blown laughter when the tiny black being started shaking and waving his fists around in a hilariously cute rage. Slowly, the timid Meister joined the laughter, and they ended up having to stop walking for a while to catch their breath, before continuing on their journey to shelter.

The small door in the side of the building creaked slowly open, Gopher wincing at the noise. Noah's hideouts had always had a certain grandeur to them, as well as being rather old. This farmhouse was luxurious, with chandeliers in the main hall and the parlour. Despite its age, it was kept perfectly clean and free of pests by the young Demon Tool. It was an agreement that Noah had established with Arachne centuries ago, the fact that he was allowed a private place in this world, free of her ever-present eight-legged self.

The lavender-haired Meister shivered as they took in the room. Gopher was unsure whether it was due to the sudden change in temperature, or just the feeling the room itself gave off. They had not emerged into the grand hallway using the front door, but had taken the one leading to the kitchens instead. It must have been one of the places in the house which was the most regularly dusted and cleaned. The smaller stoves flanked the roasting fireplace like black hippos, various cooking coppers were hanging close by, and if they lifted their head, dried herbs and meat could be seen where they were linked to the rafters, impossibly high above them.

Gopher swallowed loudly.

They felt guilty at not having handed this invaluable piece over to Noah, or at least told him about this exciting opportunity to enlarge their master's collection. But they really wanted to prove their worth. He had needed to return to Arachne's court in order to create more enchanted soldiers for her, leaving Gopher in charge of the place.

They sighed as they settled the basket they had been carrying on the central counter, where the food was usually prepared. They had better things to do this evening apart from cleaning and putting away the miscellaneous items they had collected that day from their walk in the desert. They had a rare double-souled girl to tend to, even though it made them unfathomably jealous. Why couldn't their master be content with their own soul?

Don't be an idiot, you're more useful to him as their faithful servant rather than a bookmark unable to act outside of the book.

On this thought, they turned back to their ticket to praise, who was still lingering in the doorway.

"Hey, aren't you cold there?"

That surprised look that had torn their heart previously was back on her face, as if she had never been asked such a simple thing in relation to her comfort before.

"A...a little. Bu...but I'm alright!" They said, raising their arms in alarm.

I can't deal with strangers being kind to me.

"No, please, it's been a long day, and I'm your host for the evening. Would you like me to show you to your guest room, so that you can settle down?"

Not many people knew this, but Gopher had a very courteous side to their personality. It just wasn't displayed often, but in this one case, it was a great help.

He reminds me a bit of Kid, with his manners and his way of speaking. He even looks a bit like him.

"I...I would li...like that, thank y...you."

Suddenly, their shoulders tensed in pain and apprehension as the black mass flowed from his permanent residence in their spine. They grabbed his poor Meister's nose, and started screeching obnoxiously:

"Are you kidding? You're trying to trick me out of a meal, aren't you, you undernourished brat! How do you think you can survive if I don't get any food?"

Then ensued a fight between the two individuals for control over the same body. Gopher looked at them in bafflement. They had never seen such a thing before. It was sad to watch, actually, seeing as they couldn't do anything to prevent it, being unable to separate them.

Wait a minute, am I pitying her? You are getting weak, Gopher, this is unworthy of Eibon's most loyal servant. Your role is limited to serving your master, and abiding by His law. Emotions are just a nuisance and a hindrance to your duty.

"I said, LET GO!"

They looked up abruptly as Crona finally regained control. Their weapon looked at them menacingly crossing his arms and huffing, before leaving with these final words:

"All right then, I'll leave you and your boyfriend together then. And you, you can do anything to them, but just don't be too rough to them when you bed them; they cry for days when that happens, and it's just plain annoying."

A shocked silence fell when the mischievous weapon uttered these last words. Crona felt like a deer caught in headlights, and would have preferred having their nose pulled to breaking point if it would have spared them from this particular situation. Gopher had gone bright red, unable to lose Crona's stare as they stayed there for what seemed like hours.

"Erm, I was going to show you your room…"

"Well, er, Cypress, may…maybe cou…could I hel…help you cook first? Pl…Please?"

This was obviously more than just the passing vengeance of the demon sword, which Gopher was both unsure and yet morbidly curious about.

"Yeah, sure. Should we make stew, or do you have a preference?"

"Well… if po…possible… please not pasta."

"All right, then! You can peel the carrots and potatoes, while I chop the leeks and the rest of the vegetables,"

The kitchen quickly filled with the companionable sound of cooking, and once Gopher had started up one of the wood-burning stoves, the smell as well. Ragnarok came out several times, but only offered moaning over the cooking, staying relatively calm and polite.

Finally, two wooden stools were pulled out from the nearby pantry, and they sat at the counter, where the servants would have been seated in the old days. Gopher didn't want to force the uncomfortable luxury of the dining room on the poor guest, and besides, it would have been more of a fuss, unheated, and would mean more mess to clean up later on.

"Finally! Give me that bowl!"

Ragnarok pointed at the pot in which they had prepared the stew, before it had even been served out. Crona looked up at him pleadingly, but the little black form kept trying to extend his arms towards the large container.

Their host decided to not pay attention to this, serving out two bowls of the goopey vegetables, and handing over a spoon along with it. As soon as he did so, a white-clad blob of a hand seized the utensil and shovelled it into his mouth as fast as he could possibly go. Crona stayed sitting calmly during the whole process, even though little pieces of partially chewed food were landing in their hair and on their shoulders. Gopher shuddered, before attacking their own bowl.

Ragnarok had to be served another three portions before declaring himself satisfied and shutting up for the rest of the night. The timid Meister hadn't said a word up to then, only staring at the wooden surface of the counter.

When they were sure that Ragnarok was well and truly gone, Gopher leaned over and said in a low voice: "Aren't you, yourself, hungry? I mean, I'm sorry, I'm not sure how your…symbiotic relationship works, but maybe would you like some stew…?"

A dark flush tainted the cheeks of the Meister, but they did not offer a reply.

"We…well, seeing as Ra…Ragnarok's my bl…blood, he ca…can absorb most of the nu…nutrients for bo…both of us. It's ju…just fats that he ca…can't pro…process, so it do…doesn't ma…matter if I do…don't eat often," they stammered out.

"Maybe, but you did work to make this, and to tell you the truth, it's pretty good. You should try some, just so that you know what it tastes like."

They thought this over a bit, then nodded just as hesitantly.

A fresh bowl and eating iron were taken out of the nearby drawer, Gopher insisting on doing so. It would mean more washing up, but it was better than having her eat out of the saliva-flecked thing. As they brought the first spoonful to their mouth, their face lit up. It had been some time since they've eaten something this consistent, and it was nice to silence the dull roar of their stomach for once.

By the time they had finished, the pan had been emptied. Gopher got up to do the washing up, as they usually did.

"Cy…Cypress, do you…you want me to do that? Or…or may…maybe the drying?"

They offered the Meister another forced smile. They were getting easier to do now, their mouth muscles gradually getting more and more used to leaving the inverted "V" shape in favour of the "W" one.

"Of course, that's fine. Your help is welcome."

Gopher was an obsessive cleaner. They couldn't help it. Anything to do with appearance, in particular, was one of their weak points. That was one of the reasons they hated Arachne's castle, a dusty, crumbling building, as well as her subordinates. Giricco in particular. They would never forgive the dirty bastard for walking in on them in the shower. Not that he wanted to be forgiven, he found the whole experience very amusing, and he probably did it on purpose in the first place.

Yet, they reflected with a sigh, they would put up with anything for Noah. Even pervy co-workers.

A good hour had passed already, and they were still hard at work on the pots and bowls, Gopher determined to scrub them until every single piece of soot detached from the bottom of the various containers.

Crona was intrigued by this, but filed their condition under "something Kid would do" and let it lie. They were still distressed over having had to leave Shibusen, the first place where people would, maybe not go as far as accepting them like Maka had, but at least comforting them. That was all lost now, though. From the moment they met their mother in that dark alleyway, the night they had not insisted further on having someone accompany them back to the Shibusen dorms, they had been doomed to abandoning that life.

It made them sad, but as their mother had told them once, sacrifices had to be made. As long as they were to help her in her projects, that is.

"Well, I think that we're about finished!" exclaimed Gopher, looking down proudly at the pile of gleaming pots in front of them, sleeves of their white shirt pulled up and the last of the suds washed from their hands. He turned to the pink-haired Meister and took the tea towel they were holding from them.

"Let's show you to your room now, shall we? It's getting late, and I would bet my right arm that you're tired enough to just fall asleep as soon as you hit the pillow. I would recommend a shower, first though, without being intruding," they said, as they caught sight of the smudged dirt across one cheekbone.

Good, make her feel comfortable. Is there anything else I could do to stop her from running off in the middle of the night?

They caught sight of the stained cuffs of the robe they were wearing, and a smile illuminated their features. Strange, it's even becoming spontaneous now, they thought, as they asked in the kindest voice they could muster:

"Would you like a fresh set of clothes as well? I've got nightclothes, and I can give you something to wear for tomorrow, as well."

Crona looked down at their hands nervously, conflicted at this proposal.

I already had enough problems with clothes when I was at Shibusen, they didn't understand why I don't wear what they call "underwear", and it took Maka hours to pick out something that I could wear for Kid's party. But I guess this robe is quite old and stained and a bit itchy and it would be nice to actually be able to wear something a bit less uncomfortable…

"Erm, ok?" they said in a small voice. "Bu…but could you may…maybe give thi…this robe back to me t…to…tomorrow, so that Lady… I mean, mother… doesn't get sus…suspicious?"

They cringed at their own words.

Please don't get the wrong idea. Please don't get curious, or I will have to get rid of you, and you've been so nice, I don't want to have to kill you.

"That's all right, I will just wash it tonight, and it should be dry by tomorrow."

This reassured the young Meister to no end. They knew that they would be discovered sooner or later, but they just needed to… be away from all this a little longer still. They knew that eventually, they would have to pay for their actions, but if there was one thing that Shibusen had taught them, it was that such a thing as happiness existed, and that it was a fleeting thing that could be taken from you as easily as it was given out. They were happy now, they thought, and they decided that whatever waited for them further on the road, they might as well fully enjoy the warm comfort that they were experiencing now while it lasted.

A bittersweet smile tugged at their lips. It was something they had never experienced before, this sense of unfairness, of irony. They were running away from the one thing they enjoyed in life. This thought was quickly erased though, when a bolt of pure fear slammed through them, stopping them in their tracks.

She will know. And she will abandon me as soon as she will learn of me disobeying her. I am merely her pawn, I shouldn't claim free will, I shouldn't disobey her.

"I…I…I nee…eed t…t…to go now. Th…thank you f…f…f…for your ho…hospitality. Goodbye."

The Demon Tool turned to answer them, but they only managed to catch sight of the hem of the dirty robe turning the corner. Cursing under their breath, they amassed black magic around themself again for the second time that day. The precious collector's piece they had worked so hard to keep under their control was escaping them, and they did not like it.

First thing first, I need to get the stupid bitch out of the house. I don't want to have to have to clean up a mess made by a battle inside the house; it's already frustrating enough having that sort of mess made outdoors… Wait, why am I worrying about that, I should be furious at having such a rare item evade the possibility to enlarge Noah's collection. Get a grip on yourself, you useless pawn! You're nothing without Noah, remember, you're worthless, and don't forget it.

With renewed vigour they thumped around the corner, and suddenly realised, with a dismay they tried in vain to suppress, that this corridor was a dead end. Crona had also realised this, and had awoken a grouchy Ragnarok to serve as their weapon. Gopher was blocking off the exit with an extended arm, from which huge wings of white-emblazoned magic sprouted. They looked at each other in tense silence, not even blinking, both of their breaths short with suppressed panic.

"KYAAAA!"

Ragnarok's recognisable cry broke the tension, encouraging Crona to take the first wild swing. They struck several wooden ornaments as they did so, as well as a porcelain vase which smashed on the perfectly swept ground.

Gopher cringed. That was several hours of sweeping to look forward to. They stopped the second swing using one of their wings, getting closer to the target to limit the use of their weapon.

They were greeted to a very close, maniac grin, and undone facial expression that sent shivers down their spine.

Is a girl actually capable of looking like this?

They had no time to reflect on this, as a huge black spike came out of nowhere towards them. It was very close, but fortunately, it only left a nick on their right cheekbone. They jumped back, startled out of their normal battle concentration by the unexpected attack, as they caught the sight of something black and viscous crawling its way down the Demon Sword wielder's chin. They had obviously bitten into their lower lip, and what they assumed to be blood now dripped to the floor. There was something off with the substance, though. They were not sure of it, the light still streaming in from the kitchen was low over here, but…

A giggle.

"My blood is black, you know."

And then a forest of spikes flew up from the ground, impaling several pieces of furniture as if they were mere butterflies to a board. Gopher's eyes widened, as, as if in slow motion, they saw the needle-sharp darts coming their way. They had nowhere to go. Jumping would be useless. Taking a step back would be useless. Their wings were too slow to counter. They were surrounded.

Noah, I love you.

They closed their eyes and waited for death.

Another giggle, softer than the first one.

Do angels giggle?

They tried opening their eyes. It worked.

Slowly, their brain processed the fact that they were still standing in the middle of the hallway, in Noah's house. They recognised the lighting, the familiar floorboards underneath their house shoes.

It took them longer, though, to understand the levitating furniture, the crisscross of darker patches, like spider webs, spanning the room…

And the sharp dart barely a hair's breadth away from their forehead.

"Look at what I've become, Lady. I really am nothing more than a useless piece of shit."

And with this curse word, completely alien in the mouth of the timid swordsperson, all the needles in the room dissolved into liquid. The pierced furniture slammed back onto the floor along with them.

Gopher stayed still for a moment longer, but decided that it was safe to breathe when they saw the Meister sitting in the middle of the hall, their legs pulled up to their chest.

The black blood was slick and slippery underfoot, but they managed to make their way towards Crona. Ragnarok had disappeared, leaving them with their face buried in between their knees. As Gopher got closer, they could hear tiny sobs, and could see a little trembling in the black-clad shoulders.

Why are you even getting close to it? You've got a death wish, obviously.

I understand that feeling. Hating yourself. I experience it every time I fail Master Noah.

So? It's your prisoner; you should have locked it up hours ago in a Mass Enchanting Device. Or at least told Master Noah about it.

This is no "it". A her, or a they, maybe, but definitely not an "it". And I couldn't have, anyway. I may have become weak, but I think that I wouldn't have been able to cause more misery to a person who has obviously been through so much more than I. I can't even hate her anymore, even though she is destined to become part of Noah's collection. I've changed my mind. I think she does deserve such an honour. Because I see myself in her. I see how our lives could have been parallel, how she as well as I are tied to a person whom we could not possibly abandon, whom we suffer for, but who rarely recognise these efforts. That's what I think.

Gopher was stunned by their own revelation. They had never been overly intelligent; it was not what they had been made for. They were nothing more than a tool that was supposed to not have such thoughts, who wouldn't have even thought of putting together the pieces of information their host had let drop during the day in such a way. But there they were, comparing their life with the one of the person they had only known for no more than a few hours. How was such a coincidence possible?

They then realised that they were now right in front of the Meister, and could clearly distinguish the small sobs coming from them. Slowly, they kneeled down in the sticky black liquid, bringing themselves down to their level. Just as slowly, they brought their arms up and pulled the sobbing person in a tight hug.

They let their chin sink into their bony shoulder, and their own tears flow. It was a strange feeling, something they very rarely did, letting their emotions take control of them in such a way. No clear thought came to them, just a deep, intense sorrow of which they could not quite find the origin. They stayed there for a while, not moving much, but Gopher eventually let go of Crona and pulled them to their feet.

They did not let go of their hand as they walked out of the darkened dead end, and pulled them into a small room. It was a place which could have been called a living room if it had been lived in more often. It was small on the scale of the house, an upright piano standing guard next to the window and a single sofa, coffee table and a small fireplace taking up the rest of the room. Gopher had not let the free hand they had uncover their face, not even once that they were both sat on the aged piece of furniture. They did not want to show them their cheeks and nose, red and blotchy, nor their red-rimmed eyes. It would be the death of them.

Crona was not going to have any of that though. They gently laid their hand on the Gopher's, and pulled it away. They tried to turn their face in order to avoid them, but out of the corner of their eye, they caught the small shivering smile that played on the other teen's lips, and stopped.

"Y-you remind me a l…lot of this friend of mine that I had. Sh…she was kind and considerate, and did ex-exactly the same thing as you did earlier on to bring me back from madness. Th-thank you."

This was… new. Them, a friend? They had never thought that they would have affiliations to any other person apart from Noah and those that Noah knew, and certainly not a dangerous warrior they had found randomly walking the desert. But there they were, trying to hold a façade for them despite their crisis they had had not more than a few minutes ago. Maybe… were they a friend as well?

"I-I'm sorry. I lied. My name is not Cypress. It's Gopher," they said in a whisper. They were desperate to prove to them that they wanted, needed to accept this friendship. Now that they had had a taste of it, he found it intoxicating. It nearly brought them as much pleasure as when Noah acknowledged, on rare occasions, their existence.

The smile didn't falter, even though they were sure the revelation they had just made would. After a few seconds, it even merged into a chuckle. Gopher stiffened, but then relaxed when they understood that it wasn't like Giricco's, harsh and mocking, but softer, as sad as the smile they had worn earlier on.

"Y-you're funny. I-i-it doesn't matter, you know."

They joined the chuckle too, slowly, not letting it get out of hand and becoming uproarious laughter or madness-induced, but to understand better this calm, sad quality of the atmosphere which had been drawn over the duo.

Soon, it died down though. They wiped the tears peaking over at the corner of their eyes, and smiled again at each other. A stronger smile than before, one where understanding flowed and pooled into each other, just as it does with some people when they have been close for years.

"Maybe we should get to bed now. Some sleep would do us both some good."

A small nod from the sword-Meister, and they were standing. They offered a hand to them, that they timidly took, looking away from it, and let Gopher lead them to the bedroom they had been talking of.

Like for the living room, it looked unlived in. Everything was perfectly aligned, in its own place, and not a speck of dust was to be seen. On one side of the bedroom stood a small bed, luxurious despite its size, and on the other a door left ajar revealed a cosy, yellow tiled en-suite. A chair, a bookcase, and a small wooden cross hanging above the bed filled up what the room would have lacked furniture-wise.

"I hope this is all right for you. It's not much, but it should be ok for a night. I'll go and get some clothes for you, I'll be back in a second."

They left the room, and Crona, to their own devices. Unsure of what they could do and of what they could touch, they remained motionless for a few seconds before remembering what Maka had once told them:

"If you're invited to stay in a place, it's usually all right to touch things if you ask politely. Apart from Kid's place. It's safer not to touch anything at all."

Following these words, and making sure not to dirty anything (they had figured out that Maka's advice about Kid was related to their obsession, so they instead adapted it to the one Gopher seemed to have), they walked up to the bookshelf and slowly flicked their eyes over the titles.

Their reading was still poor, but they understood most of them, even recognising one book from a stack that Maka had been munching her way through at one time ("Zadig", by a person named Voltaire). They picked it up, and had a go at reading the first few sentences.

They had worked through half a page by the time Gopher came back, and slammed it closed quickly as they appeared with towels and assorted nightwear.

"I wasn't sure whether you preferred pyjamas or a nightgown, so I found both. Is there anything else you need?"

Crona was about to shake their head, but paused before they did so. They did want one thing, but they weren't sure whether it would push these new-found boundaries too far.

"C-could you… i-i-if it's not t-too much to ask… stay? J-just while I'm cl-cleaning up. I w-won't be long, I p-promise…"

It was too much. They knew it.

They squeezed their eyes shut, waiting for the blows, or harsh, cutting words, or even a simple "no". Why they had asked in the first place became blurry to them. It was a folly to do so, not knowing Gopher for very long, and already placing their trust in them in such a way. But they remembered it quickly.

They didn't like to take a showers, or baths, or anything that meant that they were naked for any given amount of time. Not only that, but they hated being locked alone in a room with Ragnarok as well, meaning that turning the key on the bathroom door was not something they would do if they had a choice. And because Gopher reminded them so much of Maka, because their soul had wings coming off its sides, and they had cried in front of them and understood them even though they had attacked them, they trusted them with their back, with their life and dignity.

"That's all right. I won't peak, I swear, and if you need me I'll be sitting in the chair, all right?" they said softly. A finger brushed against Crona's cheek, and they flinched, backing away from the reassuring hand with wide eyes.

"I promise," they repeated their vow, holding their gaze despite the pit which his heart had fallen in, seeing them, their "friend" (whatever that implied) afraid of their own suggestion in such a way.

They finally gulped and nodded, taking the miscellaneous pile of cloth into the bathroom with them. Soon, the sound of running water filled the air, setting Gopher's thoughts running in a pattern he knew well. It was something soothing to them, like a reminder that their cleaning had been well done, and helped them sort things out and find solutions to problems they never thought they had.

Of course, the train of thought was this time directed towards all the memories and events the unbidden guest had created in their wake today. They had managed to sow seeds of doubt in them, and they were now faced with the dilemma of either having to ignore them and continue onwards with their original plan, or acknowledging their existence and trying to reason their limited psyche around them.

For starters, what were these feelings that flowed through them? They recognised the hot burn of romantic passion easily enough, having been subjected to it throughout most of the years they had been by Noah's side, yet this was different. Yet similar. Different yet similar.

They groaned in frustration, and Crona's voice cut through the air, meek and fragile-sounding:

"A-are you all right?"

There it was again. A warmth, quick to come and to fade, which made them want to smile at the attention that they had been given. No, this was not romantic. It was more of an urge to protect, help this person. Make them happy.

They relaxed back into the wicker chair, now certain of what they were to do. They needed to tell them the truth. They wouldn't force them to join the collection anymore, but they would try and convince them that getting away from whoever this "Lady", this supposed "mother" of theirs was would be a good idea, and then maybe they could convince the Meister of the utmost privilege that being part of the Collection bestowed upon them.

The door opened and Crona, with wet hair and sporting grey pyjamas, peaked around the wooden partition. Gopher smiled at them brightly as they walked in. They looked far better cleaned up, even though they wiggled uncertainly under their gaze.

"Crona, I need to tell you something…"

Unexpectedly, they took a step back, eyes snapping up to their own and arm to their bicep. They were obviously still not entirely trusting of them, and the way they tried to angle themself towards the door was also an indicator of this.

They got up from the chair, and the pink-haired sword wielder flinched again, now positively twitchy. Gopher raised a soothing hand, and started their speech.

"I'm not sure what exactly has happened to you, but I don't think it's healthy. You've experienced joy, but a lot of pain as well, and from what I've understood it's your mother who is the source of all this."

They waited for a reaction, but the only thing that they did was make their expression stony. It was a desperate last measure, announcing their sanity's teetering on the edge. Gopher didn't know this, even though they could clearly see that the change in demeanour could mean nothing good.

"But listen! I'm sure that there's a way that you can break away from this. You don't need her…"

"But she needs me!..."

Gopher, in a dangerous bid to be understood, took a step forward and grabbed the hand that was hanging by their side, holding it between both theirs. Crona's breath hitched and froze, and an ominous flicker of pale colour animated their pupils for a second.

"Even if she does, she doesn't deserve you."

Again, something flickered behind those dark eyes. Rage, followed by incomprehension, then fury and sadness, to finally settle in a dead stare. Nothing was there. They took a peek at their soul, and saw the throbbing that usually animated them slowing down.

"How about you, then?"

Gopher froze in their movement, to then let their hand fall.

"I-I can see. From your soul. Y-you're unhappy; there's someone y-you'll give everything up for, but they don't see it. They're g-great and powerful but… they don't see…"

The hand which had left their cheek seconds ago came back up as quickly as it had left, bunching the collar of the pyjamas up and snarling at the unresponsive Meister.

"No… You're wrong! Never insult Master Noah in front of me again! It can't be!... It can't…"

But it was. They saw it now. Their heart fractured, they sat down heavily on the wooden floor, pulling Crona down with them as they did.

They already knew it, of course. They had done exactly that: sacrificed everything for the one man they loved with a passion. Maybe he would notice me one day, if I work hard enough, if I'm the best of Demon Tools, they had thought on several occasions, but he never did. It was never good enough. And it was now dawning on them that maybe it would never be.

They looked up to Crona again. They could only guess that their brokenness came from their own realisation, the one that, yet again, resembled theirs so fully. It clicked. They knew what to do.

"Crona, let's go. Now."

They looked up, utter confusion pooling in their eyes. Good. They were out of their torpor.

"It doesn't matter where. Anywhere. These people are harming us, and we need to get away from them. Alaska. Australia. Russia. Just, far away."

"B-but she will find me. Sh-she found me in Death City…"

"Then we'll keep moving. Or I'll use some cloaking magic. But we're going."

Crona nodded. And they went.

A few months later

The house was of a strange sort: It had been constructed by an architect in a bid to bring back the ancient Roman style of living, with triclinium and house surrounding a centre garden, but without leaving out the modern facilities, with en-suite bathrooms and a large home cinema centre.

After many weeks of walking, hunted, through country after country, narrowly avoiding capture once or twice and killing each other (madness still roamed the world and would affect them very strongly sometimes), they finally came to rest in a place Crona had hoped to never see again.

Florence was the town in which they had hurt Maka's weapon, Soul, and had caused all this mess in the first place. They had to admit, though, that this was surprisingly the place where madness seemed to affect them the least.

On their first night, they had stopped in at a bar and bought the cheapest thing on the menu, and Gopher got chatting to some guy sitting at the table next to theirs. They stayed this way longer than Crona would have liked, but they could feel that something was happening. Something chemical.

As soon as Gopher let loose the information that they were currently homeless and running from their respective guardians and their years of neglect and abuse (that was one thing that made Crona balk. Putting their treatment into words was truly something strange, and they still hadn't gotten used to hearing them said out loud that way), the guy offered them a place to stay for the night. His uncle had the cash and the room, and would surely not mind their presence.

After much negotiating, the boy managed to make them stay the next night as well. And the next. And the next. In the end, they had stayed three months in a row without knowing quite how they had been roped into it in the first place.

Gopher was happy, though. The years of being starved for attention had taken a toll on them, and the person they now liked to call their boyfriend was all too eager to provide them with it. Their cleaning mania had also been calmed, the only thing notable being that the place was always spotless thanks to them (this was the reason why the uncle was fully willing to let these houseguests stay for as long as they pleased: Gopher could do the job that three cleaning ladies would otherwise be required to do). Crona still shared their hopes and fears in the evenings though, and in return they confided theirs to them. They, on the other hand, were still incredibly wistful and thought of Maka and how she was faring in the war on a daily basis. For some reason, they were shielded from it where they were, the city holding something that mellowed things extraordinary down.

Unwilling to stay for days on end without activity (unlike Gopher, who didn't mind one bit turning into a pile of mushy sludge between their love's arms), they would head for a coffee shop that had accepted their job application, and at night for the darkest, dankest streets to fight crime and gangs. They were known as some sort of vigilante in the press, but not having learned a lot of Italian since arriving in the country, they stayed blissfully unaware of this.

Ragnarok was content simply eating cookies; as long as the jar was full, his temper would remain sweet and docile. It came to a point where Gopher was worried that one of them (or both) would get diabetes, but it was quickly debunked when they found out through private blood tests that the stuff was eighty-seven percent inorganic matter anyway. Let sleeping dogs lie.

It was when they returned late one night from one of their shifts that they caught a difference in the air. There was a vibration, something off that could only signal the coming of a great presence. They stealthily opened the back door and prowled through the garden with eyes peeled all the way. From the triclinium, they could hear shouting, raucous laughter, the tapping of high-heel boots. This wasn't good. They weren't told that anyone was coming over.

Suddenly, before they could quite process it, a huge mass fell on their back, making all the air shoot from their lungs.

"You're slow, buddy. But we'll get you back on track, don't worry!"

That voice. They had certainly heard it before, but…

Crona was back on their feet in an instant, being pulled up by the armpits by the person who had surprised them in the first place. They turned on him, and froze.

Half his hair on the left side of his head was gone, shaved away around an ugly cut which was still healing, but the colour, the face were the same. "Black..?"

"Yes, Black*Star! The great, the powerful, at-your-service Black*Star!" he yelled, then leaned in closer, speaking in a conspirational tone: "And I'm not alone either."

Before they knew it, they had been hoisted onto his back, and with a whoop, he charged into the triclinium.

They fell from their ride heavily as he let go. Getting back up, Crona saw that it had been in order to run over and hug a peaceful-looking Tsubaki, who only had bags under her eyes to show for her war efforts. Looking around the room, they recognised several other people that they had met and befriended at Shibusen. Patty waved at him from where she was paddling in the central impluvium, Kid smiled at them silently, and even Kirik threw in a "Hello!".

But it was as their eyes scanned the crowd and that they came to rest on the second couch to the left, that they stopped and stared. There, a Grigori soul was bobbing, ethereal blue and full of life. They took a step forward, a second, and stopped as she raised her eyes from the book she was reading and smiled at them

"Hello, Crona."

They smiled back. Maybe they would live happily after all.

This story is, like most of my others, dripping with cultural references and references to historical events and characters. If there's something strange written somewhere, just Google it, you'll probably find the answer. If not, comments are appreciated.

This was also partly inspired by an image that I found of Gopher baking a batch of cookies. I made him quite like Kid, I have to say, but with a housekeeping mania rather than a symmetry obsession. It seemed fitting, considering his appearance. I also originally included the idea of Gopher walking in on Crona in the shower, but scraped it after I saw where this fic was heading. And I couldn't do that to them, not after the creation of "Oh, Darling!", where I torture them too much already. Who knows, I may include it in that fic one day, anyway.

I have only really basic knowledge of the geography of the United States, so I probably warped space-time in this fic (not as if the series doesn't do this anyway). I imagined Noah's place as an old southern farmhouse, surrounded by a dustbowl-like field which would merge into the desert. As for Gopher mentioning that the dining room wasn't heated, I just assume that in Nevada, like in most deserts, the temperature drops drastically at night.

"Zadig" is a good book by the way, in Voltaire's tradition of using a pseudo-fairy-tale to mock the higher-ups and norms of his day's society. Give it a read, it's full of sarcasm.

Gopher acts how he would act with a romantic interest, because he doesn't know how to do otherwise. Just so that you know that their relationship is indeed platonic.

Just to explain how pronouns are used here, Gopher and Crona both refer to themselves using "they", but seeing as Gopher sees Crona as a girl at first and Gopher as a boy, when it's in their respective POVs, they would refer to each other using male and female pronouns respectively.