General Warnings for this fic: language, violence, medical procedures and description of symptoms, some gore, angst, and sexual themes. Specific warnings will be posted at the top of each chapter. Thanks for reading!
A member of the flight crew began to instruct them on emergency procedures in the event of a water landing, a hijacking, a stowaway, or a sudden barfing attack. Soul turned away from their overzealous crew leader and rolled his eyes to his partner.
He was already planning how he could tease Maka, who was surely studying the flight safety manual in case it came up on some test later or, he didn't know, something else that would never happen. To his disappointment, she wasn't looking at the flight safety manual. She wasn't even looking at the safety demonstration.
She was staring straight ahead, ignoring him.
The night before, they'd fought over some silly thing, like whose turn it was to pick the movie or what they should order for takeout. Tensions had been running high, and they'd decided to call it an early night since they just couldn't seem to agree on anything.
He understood why; this sometimes happened before major missions, and this was the biggest mission they'd had since their last battle on the moon with Asura. After four years of painstaking strategy briefings with Stein and Sid, intense diplomatic negotiations between Kid and the witches, and a lot of emotional preparation on Maka's part, they were finally ready to rescue Crona from the moon.
But then the two had begun their day in silence, and she'd hardly spoken more than a few words to him before they boarded the zeppelin that would take them to the moon. He wanted to say something, but he was pretty sure she'd give him some clipped response and go back to ignoring him anyway. So instead he put his headphones in and tried to forget how much this tension was bothering him.
The attendant came by to serve their in-flight meal, which Soul considered but ultimately decided against. He couldn't fight on a full stomach. Maka apparently felt the same way, because she refused as well. His ipod battery was approaching 20% and he was considering putting it away and trying to get in a quick nap when she suddenly slipped her hand into his, their fingers tangling awkwardly and then aligning as they both pretended nothing was happening.
Soul tried to ignore how much lighter he felt, the way his heart seized and his wavelength smoothed out to compliment hers. She must have felt it, though, because she gave a little smile and then ducked her head before he could say anything.
They sat in silence for the rest of their journey, but to Soul it felt completely different. She was letting him in.
Maka was stressed because she felt responsible for Crona. She took on so much, tried to be strong, but she still felt shame about the help and support she received from others. Some days, he wondered if she resented him, if she hated that she couldn't do this all on her own. He knew it was wholly irrational and borne of her fierce independence and desire to be like her mama. But still, he couldn't help but feel frustrated when she wouldn't open up to him, wouldn't lean on him. He wanted her to know that it was okay to need a partner in battle. That it was a good thing to be stronger together. He'd discovered that a long time ago, she hadn't quite.
"Hey, sorry about earlier, I was just–"
"It's cool," he told her. "Let's go kick Asura's ass again, huh?"
Sharp shark teeth gleamed at her and she matched his grin. Somewhere near the other end of the zeppelin, Black*Star screeched "Yahoo!" and they turned to the window in time to see the blackened surface of the Moon fast approaching.
"And now we begin."
Still facing them, the witch knelt on floor of Shibusen's dungeon, carefully avoiding the edges of the pentagram her sisters had devised. Her cloak was lined with owl feathers, which brushed the cold stone softly as she settled into place. At the risk of smudging the fresh blood of the pentagram, everyone present simultaneously hissed in anxiety.
The witch gave no indication if she noticed their distress. Her feathers remained unscathed.
And the circle remained unbroken.
"Sisters, lend me your powers now."
But there was hesitation: a shuffling here, a cough there.
The woman did not stand. She raised her golden, round eyes, scanning the crowd of witches gathered for the ceremony. "You dare resist? Is it not on order of Most High Grand Witch Mabaa that you join me here in this endeavor? Speak if you wish, or lend me your powers and let it be done."
Shrinking before their sister's gaze, the assembled witches shifted uncomfortably. The witch in the pentagram waited as they rearranged themselves so that only one of them remained standing defiantly before the pentagram, foisted into prominence by her more timid compatriots.
"Paloma? I had not expected to see you, of all people, betraying the order of our leader. Doves mean peace, do they not?" The woman on the floor addressed the new leader of the latest mutiny with a small, regretful smile on her face.
Paloma flinched as if she had been struck. There was more shifting, some titters broke out among the group. Paloma looked behind her for support, and finding little, she squared her shoulders and prepared to state her case.
"Madam, why do we help these people? For hundreds of years they have hunted us, struck us down, used the souls of our own kind against us in battle. It is because of them we lived in fear, sealed away from the rest of the world, unable to show ourselves on pain of death!"
Her piece spoken, Paloma stepped backward and crossed her arms defensively in front of her chest. Rather than strengthen her image, it gave her the appearance of a petulant teenager.
The witch on the floor sat blinking slowly, her owlish nature manifested in her utter stillness, her lack of expression. It seemed the entire room was holding its breath.
Finally the woman spoke.
"Are you not tired of the fighting? Are we all not tired?"
The witch's eyes flashed and she stared beyond the crowd, as though she could see something past the cloaked figures cowering against the dungeon walls.
"Mabaa grows old. Once rare, her visions are now overtaking her. Or had you forgotten the power of our Grandmother's eye? She sees all. And she sees her time is approaching. Soon, she will travel on to that place we are not yet privileged enough to follow."
A shiver ran through the room.
"Would you have her leave a world at peace, a world which seeks to bridge and repair the harm and the violence which our ancestors experienced? Or would you have her leave a world in which we hide in our realms and, yes, continue to be hunted and abhorred and violated in the ways that Shibusen has always done?"
"But we ought to fight them! Since the treaty, they won't be expecting it, and–"
"Silence!" whispered the witch in the pentagram, and Paloma's mouth suddenly sealed itself shut. She began to scream, but the only sound which could be heard was the resonance in her nasal cavity as she pulled and pulled at her jaw.
"Be still, child, or shall I render you immobile as well?"
Paloma's expression was one of stark terror as she slowly began to shake her head, still clutching her face. The group parted, nobody wanting to touch her. She backed up until her back hit the wall. Her eyes welled up with tears.
No one dared speak.
"Under the old Death, we had no choice but to live as we did, hidden away in our realms. Now we have the opportunity to live with Death as our ally. Does this not make us stronger? Who can say what Grandmother Mabaa sees in her visions? But a world with the mighty Shibusen in our debt is a reality we shall all wake to on the morrow."
The owl-witch's eyes glinted with golden light. She gazed at her sisters, one by one, until their heads were bowed in submission.
"Sisters, what say you?"
"Yes, Heir Huuhkaja," came the resounding conclusion.
Paloma bowed her head in defeat.
"Paloma, you may go." The Heir said graciously. Paloma looked stricken, and gestured to her face, clearly hoping to be freed from the curse.
"You may go," repeated the witch in the pentagram quietly. Her eyes still glinted with light.
"Now, sisters, lend me your power."
Paloma's footsteps echoed in the dungeon hallway long after her exit.
"Alright, everyone. This will not be like last time. The witches are already working binding spells and enchantments to keep Asura from reawakening, so you should be able to extract Crona without releasing the madness. All you have to do is resist the madness long enough to rescue Crona."
Kid's image radiated confidence and power from the mirror. Since the zeppelin landed, Stein, Maka, Black*Star, and Kim had joined their weapon partners in crowding around the dinghy piece of glass placed in the observation quarters to strategize one last time before the rescue.
"Remember the plan: Maka will use her wavelength to break the barrier, and Black*Star, who is less susceptible to madness, will cover for Stein and Spirit, who will be retrieving Crona. Asura is weak due to the witches spells, but be on guard in any case."
The group exchanged nods of agreement. Everyone who volunteered for this mission knew the risks. There were many who did not support it, many who felt that risking the lives of Shibusen's finest for a member of the Gorgon family could only end badly.
Still, the mission had its supporters. Stein and Marie had been instrumental in getting support for the mission; Stein had extolled the research opportunities that a living sample of black blood could provide, and Marie had volunteered to oversee Crona's rehabilitation. Maka had always planned to return for Crona, and Soul hadn't had to think about it– he would support Maka always. Spirit was likewise willing to do just about anything to get back in the good graces of his only daughter. Kim and Jackie had worked tirelessly with the witches since the treaty had been formed, and this mission was as much a test of their diplomatic prowess as it was Kid's. Black*Star's motives for helping were more unclear; but the Meister had never been one to stay out of the spotlight for long.
Kid continued with the plan.
"Kim will remain in the zeppelin with the medical team. If you need backup, Jackie and Kim will come to your aid, but that means leaving the medic team unprotected, so only make that call if absolutely necessary. Any questions?"
"We get it, dude. Go back to your fancy office and let us do our work!" Black*Star said with a grin, pausing to crack his knuckles loudly. Kim turned to glare at him and Tsubaki shrugged apologetically.
"I agree with Black*Star," Maka said, surprising everyone. "We're ready. We've been planning this for four years. If we hesitate now, we lose the element of surprise."
Kid smiled. "Very well. Go on then, and good luck."
Soul cradled Maka's prone form as she lay there, barely responsive and bleeding onto the surface of the Moon. It had started out well– Maka's anti-magic wavelength had been instrumental in overcoming the black blood barrier surrounding the moon. The energy she had expelled in destroying the obstructive fluid had left them both vulnerable to a swiftly-awakening Asura, but the two of them had never had a problem holding their own against Asura before.
The problem had come when Maka was struck by Black*Star's Soul Force attack as she used her wavelength to open the way for everyone else. From his basic field knowledge, Soul guessed she had multiple broken ribs and a serious concussion. He'd have to give Black*Star shit for that later, couldn't that egotistical ninja have been a little more considerate of where his fellow fighters were?
He took a deep breath. She'll be fine, he tried to reassure himself. After all, they had been in many battles before this, and they'd been worse prepared for many of them. With medical treatment, Maka's injuries wouldn't be anything a few days in bed couldn't cure. Still, he fussed over her as he put pressure on her wounds.
It seemed the team had succeeded in retrieving Crona. From where he and Maka were positioned, he could see Shibusen staff loading a frail, thin body onto a stretcher and heading towards the zeppelin that would take everyone back to Death City. He hoped they would bring a stretcher for Maka, as he was in no shape to carry her and her condition was worsening by the moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kid directing a medical crew over to them.
She kept trying to talk and he didn't want her to waste her energy, so he leaned closer and tried to listen to what she was saying.
"S-Soul..."
"Yeah Maka, right here with ya."
"Soul."
"Yeah Maka, what is it?"
"Is Crona..."
"Yeah, we got 'em. They're being taken care of in the zeppelin now, okay? And the staff are coming to get you and then we'll all go home, so I need you to save your energy for just a bit longer, okay?"
She slumped back in relief, her grip on his shirt loosening.
It seemed her grasp on reality was loosening, too. "Soul, Soul, Soul... Soul cooooooool." She started giggling but it quickly turned into wet coughing, blood leaking out of her mouth.
"Maka? Try not to talk, okay?" Soul said anxiously.
"S-sooooul. I havta say something though, sssss importnnn."
"Okay, okay. I'm listening, what is it?"
"Don't leave me."
"I won't," he promised, squeezing her hand gently.
She looked at him, the intensity in her gaze almost frightening. "Don't leave me," she repeated.
"I won't Maka, I promise. I'm not going anywhere."
"Don't ever... go... away."
"Maka, you need to save your strength."
"I need... you... to stay. Please."
He bent his head forward, arms tightening around her.
"Always. As long as you want me, I'll be here, okay?"
She nodded, and her eyes drifted closed as she lost consciousness.