Okay here's my first Soul Eater fanfiction! It's AU but I warn you in advance, it does contain spoilers! This follows manga line rather than anime line (which they really aren't very different, the manga just continues past where the anime ends). This is different than my usual fanfics. Mine are always rated M and deal with an OC, and this is neither! Also I've been experimenting with writing in present tense, and I rather liked the way it turned out! Anyway, sorry for the long intro! Please read and review!
Maka Albarn blames everything - and rightly so - on her good-for-nothing excuse of a father. She thinks these things as she lies on her narrow cot and watches the moonlight creep ever further across the stone floor. She traces the events that led her to this moment, and always her father is to blame.
If it weren't for Spirit Albarn's habit of chasing anything with breasts, Maka's mother, Kami, wouldn't have divorced him. If it weren't for the divorce - which she couldn't deny was justified - they would never have gotten involved with that scummy lawyer. If it weren't for the scummy lawyer, they never would have been reported. If they'd never been reported, they would never have been arrested. If they hadn't been arrested, Spirit and Kami wouldn't have been taken to some unknown prison somewhere in Africa and Maka wouldn't have been declared a ward of the state. If Maka had never become a ward, she certainly wouldn't be at Parnevik Hall. So, she concludes yet again, it is all her father's fault.
She rolls over on the narrow bed, unable to sleep even though it must be sometime in the early morning by now. The room is small and rectangular, with stone walls and a stone floor. Parnevik Hall was at one time a castle, and it hadn't been renovated before it was made into the "reform school" it is today.
Maka gets out of bed, resigned to another sleepless night, and walks over to the window. The windows in her room are very narrow, hardly wide enough for her to get through if they could open, which they can't. She assumes all the student rooms have windows like these. It is no secret that the staff fears the students. They are treated like criminals with no rights, like things sub-human even.
She sighs and sits at her window, watching the sun rise over the eastern horizon.
When the bright rays of sunlight finally stream over the spires and domes of the ancient city, Maka dresses in her pressed school uniform. She hates the pleated skirt, sweater vest, tie and blazer they all wear, but fashion liberty is not practiced at Parnevik Hall.
Though their cells are really seventeenth-century bedrooms, the wards are locked in every night like their rooms are cells. After all, it is more of a prison than a school. So Maka is waiting patiently and, exactly eight minutes past seven, the lock clicks and the door is opened from the outside.
It is one of the "nurses." They are called nurses even though they are really prison guards; everyone knows this but it does not need to be said. They are dressed in little white uniforms and ugly white shoes but they carry batons and tazers and handguns at their belts. They paste derogatory smiles on their faces, like they feel sorry for the wards, but behind their fake smiles is the hatred. So much hatred. Until her arrest, Maka hadn't known such hatred existed.
The nurse who opens the door - Eruka, Maka thinks her name is - steps aside so Maka can come out. Maka is a good girl; the nurses never have problems with her.
The wards occupying the rooms to the right of Maka's are already unlocked, standing outside their rooms solemnly with their hands folded, wearing their Parnevik Hall uniforms. The nurses continue along the hallway to the left, unlocking doors while the wards wait patiently. Then they are moved off to breakfast in the dining hall.
Breakfast is a silent affair; they aren't allowed to speak. They sit at long rectangular tables, group one on one side of what had once been a grand dining hall with vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows and group two on the other. Their breakfast is meager and there is only water to drink - milk and orange juice seem to be foreign concepts at the school.
Maka sits between a pink-haired German girl named Kim and a quiet, smug blond who goes by the name of Anya. Even though they are in her work group, she doesn't know much about them. Everyone mostly keeps to themselves; it's better that way, they all know.
When the forty-five minutes alloted for breakfast have passed, they all stand up - almost as one - and proceed towards their work assignments.
Maka's group, which, besides Kim and Anya, includes Meme, is scheduled for the punishment room today. The punishment room had probably been a torture chamber centuries ago, but now Dr. Medusa uses it to punish the wards she deems unruly or maladjusted. And Dr. Medusa doesn't need an excuse to punish someone.
They have a particularly nasty nurse as their overseer, who unlocks the door and lets them into the dimly-lit punishment room. Even Maka, who has never been particularly weak-constituted, is glad the lights are dim enough that the far corners of the room are hidden in shadow. Like the rest of the castle, the punishment room is constructed of stone and heavy wooden beams. It is dank and dark down there, and there is always a draft though there are no windows. Though all of the torture devices have long since been removed, the stench of burning flesh and blood cannot be erased.
The nurse - he calls himself Free, though Maka is sure that can't be his real name - stands by the door with his arms crossed and an unpleasant leer on his face. Maka doesn't understand why he is allowed to oversee the girls' group. The lecherous, self-important look on his face is unmistakeable.
The girls silently set about their tasks, sharing looks from beneath their fringes when Free isn't looking. Though they are from all different cultures and they are many different ages and though they do not speak often, they always share this.
When Eruka comes to speak with Free urgently in the hall, he doesn't hesitate to slip out and leave them unguarded. It is as if a collective sigh is released and the four of them sit back on their heels, suddenly relaxed.
"Kim," Meme, the French girl with the impressive breasts and the horrible memory, says curiously. "What happened to your arm?"
Kim, who is a year younger, looks down at her arm, which is currently bound in a sling. Maka has heard that Kim was sent to the punishment room earlier in the week, though she doesn't know what for. When it comes to Dr. Medusa, anything is possible, Maka knows.
"It's fine," Kim says shortly, though it is obvious that it is not fine.
Anya, who is hot-headed and more than a little full of herself, seems to think along the same lines. "It's not fine," she snaps, loud enough that they all glance at the door in case Free comes back, but he doesn't. "That woman is a monster! That she should be allowed to run a school-!" She stops, too angry to continue.
It is Meme, with her short blond hair, who speaks next. Her usually sweet voice is bitter now. "A school," she laughs. "What a joke."
The others say nothing, because they all know it is true. Even the outsiders know that Parnevik Hall is nothing more than a prison for the oddities of nature.
Anya looks like she's going to say more, probably angry, bitter words, but the door to the punishment room opens and Free comes back in. Any further conversation is no longer an option. They return to their work, silent and obedient because it is the only way to survive.
After their morning chores are completed and they have passed the inspection of Dr. Arachne, Dr. Medusa's partner and older sister, the wards are allowed to go to lunch. This is a more carefree meal than breakfast in that, even though they are still confined to their assigned seats, they are at least allowed to talk. The doctors and all but two of the nurses take their meal in the staff room, leaving two nurses to guard the door and keep the wards from getting too rowdy.
From her place between Kim and Anya, Maka reaches for a roll, though there is no butter or jam. Across the table, Black Star is saying something that catches her attention. "-and so the field trip is this afternoon."
"The field trip is this afternoon?" Ox asks, leaning forward to peer around Kilik. "So pest control is today, huh?"
Though the castle seems to fail many health codes, even Dr. Medusa can't wheedle her way through the pest control issue. So, once a year, the entire castle is undertaken at once. It is the one day a year that the wards are allowed outside the high walls of their prison, heavily supervised of course. Even though all they do is take a tour of the historic city in which they live - albeit unwillingly - they are all excited for a chance to get out for a few hours.
They are all assembled in the front hall, surrounded by the smiling nurses should anyone attempt escape, before they are allowed out. Dr. Medusa, Dr. Arachne, and the youngest sister Dr. Shaula stalk up and down the lines of students, seventeen total, checking to make sure their uniforms are fit for the public eye.
While their field trip is exciting to the wards, it is also humiliating. The townspeople come out of their houses to gawk at the procession of "students," like it is a parade of circus freaks instead of imprisoned children. They are objects of derision, of fear. Sometimes even Maka, who is very strong in her convictions, thinks that perhaps they are as bad as everyone says they are.
When the doctors finally decide that everyone is presentable, the nurses lead them outside in two straight rows, one of group one and one of group two. Medusa, Arachne, and Shaula stay behind to oversee the pest control, trusting their well-trained nurses to keep the wards properly in line.
It is summer, though today is the only day the seasons make any difference to the wards. Even though they march in two straight lines and do not speak, it is a day to be enjoyed, even if their freedom is short-lived. The sun is a bright ball in a cloudless sky, and the breeze coming off the harbor to the west is refreshing.
The city Parnevik Hall is located in is ancient and historic. Centuries ago it was a sprawling metropolis made of ancient stone buildings and domed cathedrals and public baths. Now the modern buildings, built of concrete and chrome, are situated between these crumbling architectural masterpieces. Though it is a small city, there are always tourists during the summer. The tourists stop in their tracks to watch the wards, as though they are simply another attraction of the city.
They have been on their field trip for three hours before they turn to loop back towards the castle. Maka has become used to the frightened whispers, the sneers, the glares, the curiosity. She tries to ignore these when she feels something quite unlike derision and she turns in surprise to see who is staring.
It is a boy, but he is unlike anyone Maka has ever seen before. He is tall and lean, with messy white hair and blood-red eyes and sharp teeth like a shark's. His expression is not frightened or angry or disgusted, simply curious and somehow calculating. But what strikes Maka most about this boy is that there is a strange jerking sensation somewhere deep within her that not even she, who thinks she knows everything there is to know, can explain.
Then the boy's red eyes lock on hers, emerald and weary, and that jerking sensation becomes a hundred times stronger. She looks away quickly, down at her feet, her heart pounding. What on earth was that?
Then they are moving on, as the nurses leading them never give them a moment to rest, and Maka keeps her eyes firmly trained on Meme's back until they are past the street with the concert hall and the grand opera house. She is baffled, something that has never happened to her. She tries unsuccessfully to put the strange boy out of her mind, but when the wards return to Parnevik Hall, he is still at the forefront.
"Are you alright, Maka?" Kim asks over dinner, another meal where they are allowed to talk. "You seem...distracted."
Maka, who has indeed been distracted, looks up from her bland food and forces a smile. "Eh, I'm fine. As well as can be expected in here." At this she receives a stern look from a nurse who overhears her, so she ducks her head and stays silent for the remainder of the meal.
When she is in bed that evening, when the stars have come out and frame the moon in the velvet blackness over the ancient city, she thinks of nothing save the strange boy. Even when she sleeps, he is there. He is calling out to her, reaching for her.
And then her eyes flutter open. It isn't a dream after all. The boy is there, outside her window that will not open even though it is on the third floor and it is a very precarious drop to the ground below. Maka flings back her itchy woolen blankets and rushes to the window, only vaguely aware that she is in her institute-issued pajamas. She gapes at him through the thick glass, wondering how he has gotten onto the narrow ledge outside her window, why he is there in the first place.
"Stand back!" he mouths through the window. She barely hears his voice through the thick glass, but she does as she is told. As she watches, the strange boy's arm transforms into a vicious-looking blade and, with a growl of determination, the boy makes a jab at the window. Even the thick glass is no match for his bladed arm, and it shatters into billions of tiny pieces around Maka's bare feet. And then the boy is clambering through the window with his odd hair and eyes and even odder teeth.
Even though there are many things she wants to say to this boy, to ask him, the thing she blurts out first is, "You're one of us!"
He nods sarcastically, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. "Yeah. Way to figure that one out." His voice is deep and resonant, and somehow Maka is attracted to it even though she has never been attracted to anyone before.
"What are you doing here?" she demands fiercely, using her arms to gesticulate wildly and display her unease. "You were free! Why would you come to the most dangerous place in the world for children of our kind?"
"I came to bust you out," he answers, his voice thick with disbelief. She must not be reacting the way he expected.
She stops, allowing her flailing arms to fall limply by her sides. "What? Why would you do that?"
"I have a proposition for you," he changes tact, crunching over the broken glass and coming further into the room. "I'll bust you out of here as long as you take me with you wherever you go after."
It is a generous offer, but one Maka does not understand. "But why?" she asks. "You live a free life. Why would you want to give that up?"
"I don't think you realize what life is like for people like me," he replies, sitting down heavily on her unmade bed without asking permission. Maka thinks this a little rude but under the circumstances she overlooks it. "I'm not saying it's any easier being in this place, but out there it's like living with a constant fear. You're always looking over your shoulder, waiting for that inevitable slip up when someone will find out what you really are. No, it would be much better to be true to myself." He falls silent, having realized that he has been talking too much about himself.
Maka sits cautiously on the bed beside him, not very close. She is wary of men because of her father. "Why me, though?" she asks next. "There were plenty of us on the walk today. Why, out of all of us, do you want to rescue me?"
The grin he turns on her is agonizingly toothy, but it is not frightening or odd. It is almost attractive. "Didn't you feel the way our souls were attracted to each other? That means you and I are destined to be partners."
"Partners?" Maka repeats. "I-I don't understand..."
He scoffs. "I guess they really don't teach you anything in here." She is about to respond huffily when she realizes he is right, so she remains silent and waits for him to continue. "Those that are like us are split into two categories: weapons and technicians, or meisters. A meister wields the weapon and they can be very powerful together, though they are usually useless on their own. For a meister to be able to wield a weapon, they must have similar soul wavelengths."
"That's why they keep us separated then," Maka murmurs out loud. She's always wondered about group one and group two and why the two are always kept apart, but she has never found a logical explanation until now. It also explains her parents, she thinks to herself.
The strange boy nods, looking at her through the moonlight with his odd red eyes. "Yeah, I'd imagine they don't want anyone realizing their soul wavelengths match up. Weapons and meisters are weak and useless on their own. They'd be easier to control if they're kept apart." He pauses. "So what do you say? Let me rescue you and become my partner?" He holds out his hand, waiting for her to shake it and seal the deal.
Maka lifts her hand but hesitates. "I'll agree on one condition."
"Which is?" His eyebrows are arched in lazy amusement, an expression that seems to suit him well.
"I want to rescue all the wards here as well." Her voice is firm.
The boy lets his hand fall back into his lap. "That's impossible," he says flatly. "There are too many and it would be impossible to get them all out without the staff knowing."
"Why is it so impossible?" Maka wants to know, barely remembering to keep her voice down. "You got in, didn't you? To get me out. Why would it be so different with the others? There's not that many of them, really."
The boy is still frowning, looking perturbed at the direction the conversation is going. "It'll be difficult..." he finally says.
Maka grins. "That's okay. I believe in us." She holds out her hand again. "I'm Maka Albarn. Nice to meet you."
He gives another exasperated smile and shakes her hand; his grip is firm. "Soul Evans. Now get dressed and take whatever belongings you have so we can get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps."
Maka scurries to do as he orders, thinking about how exciting it will be to finally be free. The only clothing she has besides her school uniform is the outfit she had been wearing the day she was arrested, so this is what she pulls on after firmly ordering her new partner to turn his back, which he does with a muffled, "Not like you've got anything to hide," which she pointedly chooses to ignore.
Then she shoves her pajamas and her school uniform into her rucksack, along with her toiletries and her notebook, and she is ready to go. She crunches over the glass before the window, wearing shoes now, and looks at the thirty-foot drop to the ground below.
"And just how are we getting out of here?" she asks archly, wondering again how he'd managed to get up there in the first place.
He stands beside her, their shoulders touching, and looks down too. "I came up using a rope," he answers her unasked question. "But I think we should try getting down together. I mean together."
Maka hesitates. She likes the idea of being able to wield a weapon, but she has no idea how to go about doing it even though she's seen her parents do it before. It seems like it is foreign territory to Soul as well, because he looks just as clueless as she does.
"What exactly do we do?" she asks, frowning.
The next thing she knows the strange boy standing beside her is gone and there is an enormous scythe in her hands. Though it should be too heavy for her to even lift, it is practically weightless beneath her fingers. Even though it is just a piece of weaponry, it is almost as if she can see Soul somewhere in the bright blade. The pull she has been feeling thus far is multiplied a hundredfold like this, as if they are one person now instead of two.
An alarm sounds loudly, though it seems like it is far away at the moment.
"How do you feel?" comes Soul's voice, sounding as though it is directly in her head.
Maka mentally checks herself out. "Okay," she admits. "Actually, better than okay. I feel great. I feel... powerful."
"Excellent." It is as if she can see that toothy grin even though he is nothing more than a piece of metal. "So let's get out of here."
She doesn't need to be told twice. Feeling suddenly quite different than she ever has before, Maka boldly clambers onto the window ledge, her bag slung over her shoulder and Soul in her hand. Then, without even a moment's hesitation, she jumps. The alarm is just as loud outside; it has apparently been rigged to go off as soon as a weapon and meister connect.
Though the drop should have killed her - or at the very least injured her badly - she lands firmly on both feet without any pain. Then Soul is no longer a scythe in her hand but a boy standing beside her.
"Run!" he grunts as shouts come from the castle behind them. He grabs her hand and they are off running. Though the fence is high and seemingly impenetrable, it is only a matter of a few seconds before Soul has ripped through the metal bars with his scythe-arm. He pulls Maka through behind them and they are off again, pounding down the sleeping streets of the ancient city.
On her own, Maka would have gotten horribly lost. With the combination of the dark and the unfamiliar city, along with the policemen and guards already hot on their trail, it would have been impossible. Thankfully she has Soul with her. He drags her along, seeming not to even think about where he is going. He yanks her around corners and down narrow, dank alleys until she is hopelessly lost.
They run for the better part of an hour. Maka finds a painful stitch in her side but Soul's tight grip on her hand never slackens and she cannot stop. And then they are in front of an enormous stone building with marble pillars and an intricate fountain out front. Soul pushes open the door and drags Maka inside, closing the door behind them.
At first Maka is grateful for a chance to rest, so she does nothing but catch her breath for a moment. Then she looks around at the building with an ever-growing sense of alarm. "Soul!" she exclaims in a strangled voice. "This is town hall!"
"Yeah," he answers shortly, shoving his hands deep into his pants pockets again with that same bored expression.
She brushes strands of blond off her sweaty forehead. "What are we doing here?" she hisses. "Isn't this a dangerous place for us to be?"
"No, it's actually the safest for now," he replies, not looking at her. "The police will never think to look here, even though it's always unlocked. And in the middle of the night, there's no one here. We should have the place to ourselves until morning. Hopefully we'll find a chance to slip away before then, after the police have moved on to a different part of the city."
Maka falls silent, thinking that his plan is actually fairly sound. She is thinking these things - begrudgingly, of course - when she sees the crimson on his cheek. "Oh, Soul! You're cut!" Without thinking, she reaches up a hand to his cheek, thinking to wipe away the thin line of blood.
Without warning, Soul captures her hand in his own, pressing it more firmly against his cheek. He closes his eyes and sighs heavily, almost wistfully.
Maka feels a strangeness in her chest that has nothing to do with being a meister. She finds that she, who has never been lacking in words, is strangely speechless. Soul bends his head closer, almost as if against his will, and his face is very close to hers.
"I'm afraid this place isn't quite as deserted as you'd hoped," a cool voice rings out across the cavernous room, and Soul springs away at once. Maka's hand drops to her side and she finds herself wondering what exactly has just happened.
The boy who is addressing them is probably around their age, give or take a few years. He is tall and thin, with amber eyes and dark hair with unusual white markings. He is dressed very formally; even the way he holds himself speaks of something higher class. It is easy to see why they missed him at first. The room is only dimly lit and he is sitting at a table in a corner, nearly hidden behind a thick stack of dusty tomes.
Soul steps partially in front of Maka with a scowl on his face, as though shielding her from this new stranger.
"Who's that?" she asks. She directs her question to her new partner but the room is so silent and cavernous that even her low voice echoes off the marble walls.
Soul's red eyes are locked on the tall, poised boy who rises gracefully out of his chair to stand before the desk. "Death the Kid," he grumbles. "The mayor's son."
"You're lucky you came here," the boy introduced as the mayor's son says in a bored, drawling voice. He speaks casually, but he obviously senses the tenseness in the room and leaves a great amount of distance between them and himself.
The white-haired boy snorts derisively. "And why is that?"
Maka speaks confidently though she does not know how she knows. "He's one of us."
Soul's eyes flash to Maka, startled, before locking on the thin young man in front of them as if demanding answers. Kid nods solemnly, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trousers.
"He's a meister like me," Maka tells Soul, though again she doesn't know how she knows.
Soul doesn't seem to like it much, but he does relax a bit and removes himself from between Maka and Kid. "So what?" Soul demands. "You're not going to call the cops?"
"I wasn't planning on it," Kid answers smoothly. Despite a slightly haughty demeanor, Maka likes him. "I was actually going to suggest you come with me to my home."
Soul snorts. "Yeah, go right into the heart of the enemy's territory. Great plan."
"No, it actually is." Maka touches his arm gently. "They'd never even think to look for us there. We can lay low for a few days and then slip out when they've moved the search further out from the city."
Kid nods approvingly. "Exactly what I was going to suggest. I guess it's true that meisters are the smart ones." Soul frowns and his eyes flash but, to his credit, he says nothing.
"But why are you helping us?" Maka wonders, her hand still resting lightly on her partner's arm as if restraining him.
Kid shrugs, a gesture that is somehow elegant with his lean frame. "I would be an abomination if I didn't do everything in my power to help my own kind."
"Yeah, you help a whole lot sitting on a marble throne while we suffer on the streets and in child prisons," Soul growls, and Maka's hand on his arm tightens significantly.
Kid's amber eyes are just as cold as he gazes back at Soul. "I'm afraid my freedom is quite a bit more limited than you might think. I do what I can while maintaining my own anonymity. Anything too grandiose would give me away and then I could do nothing for anyone."
Soul's eyes smolder but he knows when to keep his mouth shut.
"So, if you're willing to accept my offer, I'd be happy to hide you away in my home until all this mess quiets down," Kid offers.
"Yes. Thank you." Maka trusts him inexplicably but wholeheartedly, and she has always trusted her gut instincts above all else. She has no problem accepting this offer. "I'm Maka. Maka Albarn."
Soul grudgingly extends his hand to their new ally. "I'm her partner, Soul."
"Is there a surname to go with that?" Kid asks, shaking the proffered hand.
Though he had no problem revealing his last name to Maka, Soul seems reluctant to say it now. "It's not important," he mutters. Kid, a perfect gentleman, does not press the matter.
"How far is it to your house?" Maka asks, knowing that even with this ray of light they are not out of the danger zone yet. The streets of the ancient city are most likely still crawling with guards from Parnevik Hall and local police.
Kid checks an impressive watch round his wrist. "Not far, but it will be a dangerous trip while the red alert is still in place."
"They've got a red alert in place for us?" Maka repeats incredulously.
Soul grins that toothy grin at her. "Not us. Just you. Nobody knows I'm missing yet."
Maka frowns, crossing her arms over the wrinkled white button-up blouse she's wearing. "Why am I such a high priority case? I never acted out when I was incarcerated. I was one of the low security wards."
"Parnevik Hall is known throughout Europe as the strictest and most efficient prison for underage meisters and weapons," Kid explains. "If it gets out that a ward has escaped - even one that was a low profile case - the institution would lose all of its hard-earned credibility."
"So how do we get to your house?" Soul demands, perching on the edge of the desk and crossing his legs. "Any secret passageways under the city or anything?"
Kid's smile is short and wry. "I'm afraid not. But I know this city better than anyone. As long as we move quickly and keep our heads down, no one will be the wiser for our passage. But we need to move now. It'll be daylight soon and it'll be impossible to get by unnoticed then, and we can't hide out here all day. It won't be long before the city officials are here."
So they leave city hall quietly. There is the faintest tinge of pink along the eastern horizon. Maka feels a tremor of panic beneath her skin as she scurries along cobblestone streets between tall, narrow buildings that are at least several centuries old. She follows closely behind Kid, who moves with determination and purpose. Soul follows her, his mouth set in a grim line, looking often over his shoulder as if to see if anyone is following.
The trek from city hall to the mayor's house seems to take hours, but it is hardly twenty minutes before Kid is holding open a side door to an enormous mansion surrounded by an intricate wrought-iron fence. Even though it is barely dawn, they can hear people bustling about in a nearby kitchen.
Kid leads the way past closed doors and up two flights of stairs to a third-floor hallway with only three doors. He unlocks one of them with an old-looking iron key and they are safely inside. Kid locks the door behind them.
Death the Kid's bedroom is unlike anything Maka, who comes from a family of only modest means, has ever seen. The house is nearly as ancient as Parnevik Hall, and this bedroom was probably once a chamber for a grand noble. It has polished marble floors and creamy white walls. An enormous four-poster, bigger than any bed Maka has seen before, sits against one wall. The room is so large that there is a sitting area opposite the bed, with couches and sofas and armchairs surrounding a fireplace large enough for someone of Maka's limited stature to stand inside.
"We're safe here?" Soul asks, looking around at the opulence without much enthusiasm or awe.
Kid nods, hanging the iron key on a hook by the door. "Yes. The door locks from the inside and this here is the only key. Whenever I'm not here, you can lock yourselves in and be one hundred percent safe. There are no other occupants on this floor, so you don't have to worry about being especially quiet."
"What about the other doors in this hallway?" Maka asks, dropping her bag beside one of the sofas.
"One of them is my personal study, and the other is a workout room that only I ever use," Kid continues to explain. "You are welcome to use both, though I don't advise it. I think your best bet would be to stay in this room. There's a bathroom through that doorway there, and I'll make sure food is brought up regularly."
Soul flops down in one of the armchairs, sinking down several inches into the plush material. "What about the maids? Do we need to be on the lookout for them?"
"No, the maids don't come up to the third floor," Kid says. When Soul arches an eyebrow questioningly, he continues. "I suffer from a slight case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I clean these rooms myself. I don't like others messing with my things." He says it almost defensively, but Maka isn't judging. Even Soul simply shrugs.
Maka yawns, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the evening. She realizes that she has only slept a few hours in the past two days, and it is now quite difficult to even hold her head up.
Soul, who seems to be in tune with her every emotion since their merging as weapon and meister, notices immediately. "We need to get some sleep. Maka's falling asleep on her feet."
"Of course." Kid is the picture of hospitality even though they are fugitives and of a completely different social status. "Please, feel free to make use of my bed. You will find extra linens in the closet if you so choose. I urge you to make yourself at home."
Maka blinks back a yawn and puts on a face of concern. "What about you, Kid? Aren't you going to get some sleep?"
He checks his impressive watch again. "I'm afraid I'm due down for breakfast in half an hour, and I can't miss it."
"But you haven't had any sleep tonight either," Maka protests.
Soul leans back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head. "Yeah, why were you just hanging out at city hall in the middle of the night?"
"I'm something of an insomniac," Kid admits with another wry smile. "Plus my situation has made me something of a loner. I spend a lot of nights going through old records at city hall, looking for a loophole to this whole meister-weapon fiasco. I've yet to find one, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll return after breakfast with some food. I suggest you two get some rest." With a stately little bow, he leaves the room.
Soul turns to Maka at once. "You think we should trust this guy?"
"I think so," she nods. "I mean, he's done nothing to make me suspicious. He even left the key, so he can't even get back into the room unless we let him. Plus he's one of us. I don't think he'd betray us."
Her partner continues to frown. "How did you know he was one of us?"
"I'm not really sure," Maka admits. "I just looked at him and it was as if I could see his soul. I guess I've been able to do it for a while now, but we were so oppressed at Parnevik Hall that I never really noticed."
Soul sighs. "So I guess we'll just lie low here for a little bit. I wonder if he's got a television around this place. Then we'd at least be able to keep up with the hunt for us."
She yawns again. "You can watch some television, but I need some sleep. I don't think I've ever been this tired." She takes her bag and retires to the bathroom, where she changes into her much more comfortable pajamas and brushes her teeth and brushes through her long blond hair.
When she comes out of the bathroom, Soul is using blankets from the closet to make up a pallet on the sofa. While the sofa looks comfortable, it isn't nearly long enough for her new partner to stretch out his lean, lanky frame. She looks from the couch to the bed. The bed is easily king-sized, bigger than any bed she has ever slept on before. "You know, we could share the bed," she offers, hoping it doesn't sound like some cheesy come on. "I mean, it's plenty big for both of us. I think it's bigger than my entire cell at Parnevik Hall."
He smiles briefly at her attempt at a joke. Maka is not the sort of girl who usually cracks jokes. "You sure it's okay?" he asks.
"As long as you stay on your side of the bed, it's fine," she agrees.
"That won't be a problem," he mutters, and she frowns at his blatant declarations of her lack of sex appeal. Maka knows she's flat-chested and a little short for her age, but it doesn't mean she doesn't have feelings.
She climbs into one side of the bed, feeling the softness of the 400-thread count sheets against her skin, the fluffiness of the feather pillow beneath her head. She feels like a princess and promptly decides she will pretend she is - just in her own mind - but she falls asleep too quickly to pretend.
So this was originally supposed to be a one-shot and it ended up being way too long. But anyway, please review!