In the House of Molly White

by DiamondNinja914

For decades, Molly's Home for Separated Meisters has helped meisters who have lost their weapons to heal, or sometimes, to die. When a sweet but fragile 7-year-old girl whose weapon is dying is brought to the home, its aging founder seeks to help. Molly knows the young girl's weapon can be saved, but it involves a practice that has been outlawed for many years.

Heya! This story is for Resonance Bang 2013, the Soul Eater fanfiction festival. There's artwork for this by Rogha, but I don't yet have the link. I promise I will edit with a link when I get it.

Pairing: General, not a romance. Soul/Maka, Stein/Marie, Spirit/Maka's mother, and OC/ Rachel Boyd mentioned. Again, not a romance.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Some characters who are widely hated. Infants in mortal peril. Scenes taking place in a hospital. Semi-frank talk of sex from a teenage girl to an older woman- not romantic, just discussing another character. Frank talk of sex between a teenage boy and girl- still not romantic. All pairings het, no hugging/no kissing. Violence. Insane characters. Weapon/Human racism mentioned.

BEGIN

To a meister, the death of a weapon is much like the death of a sibling or spouse. Pain and grief may last years, even a lifetime.

But while the emotional effect is similar, the physical side is not. Meisters are their own species, engineered to bind their soul to a single person and remain that way for the rest of their lives. When that soul senses that a part of it is missing, it goes into a panic. When an addict suddenly removes their chosen chemical from their system, the effects on the body and psyche are dramatic. When an entire person is lost, the soul begins to shut down entirely, leaving feelings of loss, negativity, depression, and eventually death.

I scanned the cafeteria. Most of the patients were quiet and kept to themselves, picking at their food or reading. Some chose to speak to others, but not many.

It wasn't a very happy place.

"Molly?" Came a high voice from behind me.

I turned to see Rachel, a girl in her late teens who had been helping me for years. "Hey, you. What's going on?"

Rachel had a grim expression. She held up a folder. "New patient."

Rachel fidgeted with her clothes, a black hoodie dress with purple and blue detailing, accented by black and white striped socks. Her blonde hair was in a bob, held out of her face by bobby pins. She was trying to grow out her bangs. She said she wanted to look more like an adult, but the fact was that she had the face of a child, regardless of how she acted.

I looked around at the other patients. They would be fine if I left for a little while; there were other people in the cafeteria to watch out for them. We walked out into the empty lobby and took the folder from Rachel.

"I've already shown her parents to the room," Rachel said. "She and her weapon were attacked on the street. They don't know if the weapon is going to make it."

I opened the file and gasped at the picture inside. A sweet-looking, big-eyed, pigtailed seven-year-old girl.

"They really have to do this to kids?" I muttered. "I mean, they don't have to go after humans in the first place, but for God's sake." I sighed and put my face in my hands. "All right, let's go."

XXXXXXXX

The children's wing was off to another corner of the building, and was painted a warm yellow. It had soft blue curtains on the large widows in every room, and the walls were adorned with pictures of flowers and honeybees. It hadn't seen an occupant in years.

I walked into the room on the end. It was warm from the sun shining in the window, but the atmosphere was cold and still.

A young couple sat in the chairs in the corner. The girl's parents.

The mother had blonde hair the same shade as her daughter's, that fell loose on her back. She was wearing a long black jacket over a red blouse with black dress pants.

The father was wearing a suit jacket. He was sitting down with his arms folded, unlike his wife, who paced the room nervously. He had hair that was just long enough to be held back into a stubby ponytail, although thin strands fell out in front of his face.

"Hey, Molly," he said, nodding at me.

I was fairly well recognized around town. Most everyone knew who I was, they just didn't want to have to get to know me.

"Hello. Where is she?" I asked, noticing the absence of the girl in question.

"She's at the hospital. Her weapon just got out of surgery." The father ran his hand through his hair, obviously not used to it being pulled back. I had heard that the couple had been speaking at the school earlier today.

"We brought by some of her things, and we filled out the paperwork and gave it to Rachel," the mother told me. I saw an open suitcase in the corner, filled mostly with clothes and books.

I sighed. "What... what exactly happened?" I needed to know precisely how much trauma the girl had been through. She would almost certainly make it, at this age when she could not yet resonate to a scale required for combat, but she also might be emotionally damaged for the rest of her life if we didn't handle this correctly.

"We don't know all the details yet. It was a kishin egg, we know that much, and they were walking home from school. She says they wanted to take a shortcut so they went behind a building towards our neighborhood, and that's where it was waiting," the mother said. She was trying to be as factual as possible, but it was clear she wasn't doing well. "I... at first I thought she might have been looking for it. When she was younger, she wanted very desperately to be a Deathscythe like her father. Since she found out she couldn't, she became determined to make the best weapon in her class."

I nodded. There was an age where all little boys and girls worried a lot less than they should, and no amount of warning would scare them away from something they hadn't experienced. It was likely that the girl had simply thought that she would be able to take on a kishin if necessary, simply because she knew her parents had been able to.

I cleared my throat. "Do you have any questions?"

The two looked at each other and shook their heads. "No, we read the booklet thing," said the father.

"All right. Let's go over to the hospital, then."

XXXXXXXX

The hall in the hospital was relatively quiet. Every footstep echoed, and when the door to the room we were going to opened, the sound could be heard throughout the building.

A young teenager stepped out and started walking towards us. He had pale hair and glasses, and was already taller than I was. He looked like someone needed to buy him a sandwich.

"Miss Molly?" he asked, looking at me.

"Hello." I shook his hand. "And you are?"

"Um, Vicky. I'm... the little girl that got hurt is my sister." He also had that familiar expression of trying to remain calm. "She's in there, but she hasn't woken up yet."

Yet.

I walked into the room, Rachel and the two parents behind me. Soft music was coming from inside, and I realized it was a young voice singing.

In the hospital bed was a tall, pale girl of eight years old. Her hair was gold, and it flowed down to her elbows around her. A pair of glasses sat on the table beside her.

Lying next to the girl was her meister, a small, skinny thing that curled around her unconscious weapon. She sang a high lullaby through quiet tears.

"Macy," said the father from behind me. Macy got up and ran to him, and he picked her up. He tried to comfort her, but she only cried more.

I saw a thin file next to the hospital bed.

NORA STEIN

I skimmed the file. It was a little more detailed than the one I'd gotten. Her physical damage was actually not all that bad. It had been severe enough to warrant surgery, but her wounds would heal relatively easily. However, the kishin who had attacked them had tried to take Nora's soul without killing her first, opting instead to try to suck it out of her body.

A teenaged meister/weapon team had sensed the commotion and come to the rescue. Huh. I recognized the name.

WITNESSES: DRAKE MICHAEL, RACHEL BOYD

"Rachel," I called. "Come here."

Rachel padded over. I hadn't noticed how frazzled she looked today.

"You didn't tell me it was you who took him down," I whispered to her.

"We didn't. He got away," she told me. "This one wasn't on the list, hadn't been graded, and wasn't even of the type we were allowed to capture. Not to mention he was too fast for us." Rachel looked disappointed, but there was something else behind her expression. Irritation? Anger? I didn't ask.

Nora's parents were talking to the doctor in the corner. I knew her father wouldn't have wanted to let anyone else operate on his daughter but himself, but Rachel had taken her to the hospital and the father had been otherwise indisposed.

I saw Nora's mother crying. She was still listening intently and nodding, but tears streamed down her face. Vicky came back and put his arm around his mother, listening.

That poor kid.

He stopped listening to the doctor and moved to sit next to his sister. He stroked her hair and looked into nothingness. His other hand clenched into a fist, and his hand crackled with electricity before he realized what he was doing. He let go with a sigh.

XXXXXXXX

The hospital was on the same block as the Home, so we were able to walk back with Macy. Her father carried her the whole way. By the time we had arrived, she'd fallen asleep.

She was put into the small bed in the corner of the room, and she made expressions in her sleep that suggested a nightmare. I knew if she woke up she would remember the terror, but it hurt me to watch.

"Maka," I said gesturing to Macy's mother. "Come with me."

She followed me out into the hallway where we could speak freely.

"You're doing the right thing," I told her. "You need to keep doing what you're doing. Macy will be safe here with me."

"I know," she said. "She needs to be here. You know what to do, and I can't be here."

"The hospital is right next door. Nora needs her to be close by, or that poor girl just won't make it." I said, speaking as gently as I could, but having to be completely honest. I was sure Maka could handle it, and perfect clarity was necessary in case something happened here or at the hospital.

There was little risk to Macy, at this point. It would be a different story if they had been older, closer. Death was almost always guaranteed when a partnership had been together for more than a few years, and the meister was injured in the same incident where the weapon was killed. However, for a seven-year-old who couldn't really resonate yet, who was using a weapon just for training to fight without trying to catch souls, the bond wasn't nearly strong enough to cause any lasting physical damage if Nora didn't make it. However, for a weapon who was injured, regardless of the age, it was much easier to remain calm and heal if their meister was in close proximity.

The father came out of the room. "She's completely out."

The two left, and I went into the room. Slowly I unpacked the bag, which was already open, and put the clothes in the dresser. I left the books on the nightstand. I was surprised by the lack of stuffed animals for a girl that age.

I looked over. Macy didn't have stuffed animals with her; she had a small, very much alive black cat that she snuggled close to her chest.

I sighed. Normally we didn't allow animals because the other patients may have allergies, but I would just make sure the creature stayed in this room. No one in the hospital right now had any problems with cats, anyway.

I rolled my eyes at myself. An empty-nester for more than a decade now, I knew I was only giving Macy such treatment because she was a child. But we hadn't had anyone in this wing of the hospital really since the Kishin had been released, and that was many years ago. I was glad no children had been killed since then, but working with the older adults who had given up all hope was... tiring.

We usually housed meisters ho had been in the E.A.T. class. Who didn't know how to live in human society. Who for a long time wouldn't be able to live by themselves. We taught them the rudimentary things. Challenging someone to a duel is not ok, especially not in public. Most humans are terrified when you brag about how many souls you've taken. Then, the patients decided what they were going to do with their lives. Most could teach. Many with soul perception went on to work in schools to identify young weapons to be sent to Shibusen when they reached proper age. Joining a police force was also extremely common.

At the Home, it was our job to make sure they were prepared for that life. N.O.T.-class members of Shibusen learned these things when they first joined the school. They were fully prepared to live a life as if their abilities did not exist. They didn't bother teaching this to the E.A.T.-class meisters, who not only didn't want to live without but didn't want to think about a life without their weapons.

I turned out the light, smiling slightly at the little girl.

I wasn't sure, but I think that little black cat might have been staring at me.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning was a Saturday.

I had just woken up. I didn't need an alarm clock; years and years ago I'd trained myself to wake up early in the morning every day.

I took a shower and got dressed in a blouse and pastel skirt, nice enough-looking but still comfortable enough to spend a full day on my feet. It was more colorful than usual.

I had just donated my hair, so the only way to hold it back was to French braid what was left of my thin, gray locks down both sides of my head as tightly as I could and tie it off with less than an inch to spare at the top of my neck. I hoped for the best, anticipating having to put it back up every hour.

Many years ago, I'd spoken to a group of the youngest children at the DWMA about being very, very careful all of the time and not going out to fight monsters that nobody had told you to, or you might end up losing a lot more than the soul you were going after. This, of course, was back when they still started training E.A.T. class prospectives at five and let them hunt at eight or nine. Now all child weapons and meisters were required to be registered in the N.O.T. class until at least age ten, and couldn't hunt until fifteen, and only if they were going into the police force, military, or other profession that required 30 or 50 Kishin souls or their equivalent to be certified. More power than that, however, was strictly forbidden to say the least.

When I entered the lobby to turn the lights on, Rachel was standing outside the door, shivering. It was still mostly dark.

"What a nice surprise," I told her as I let her in. She usually didn't help me on the weekends. She was going for her certification and she had to hunt on Saturdays and Sundays as she spent her weeknights with me.

She grumbled something about it not being a problem, but didn't look at me. Something was up, but I didn't press her for information. I was well over twice her age, and the likelihood of her confiding in me was quite low.

We split up to finish setting up for the day before the patients woke up and the rest of my employees came in. I had always told my orderlies that they should sleep in on the weekends.

When we met back in the common area to begin breakfast, Rachel was on her phone. She was typing something very quickly and blinking hard. She put the device back in her pocket and took a breath to calm herself. She still didn't say anything to me.

Normally, we had frozen breakfasts or just scrambled eggs prepared in bulk. But we didn't have many patients any more, and we'd been eating very little but the routine few meals for over ten years, so I sent Rachel into the storage room to see if anyone had bought maple syrup recently.

It would be a nice surprise. We had cookie cutters, but none big enough for pancakes, so I just went with the traditional circle. But, of course, I did put a smiley face on each. I don't know what came over me, but it was nice.

Macy was first in line. I looked down at her over the buffet counter.

"My, you're up early," I said, raising an eyebrow.

She giggled. "I always get up early. It's because of school."

I tried to give her a smaller pancake, but she shook her head at me and forked over two of the largest from the pile, smiling to herself before drowning them in syrup and whipped cream.

There were three other patients behind her in line. Everyone else was still asleep.

"Wow, she must have come in last night," one of them whispered. I could see from their souls that they felt concern for Macy.

I looked over at her while I filled their plates. She was slouching, and the smile from her face was gone. She clearly missed her friend.

She had a big cloth purse slung over her shoulder. It was the kind of thing a younger Maka would have kept books and pens in, and that was what I assumed Macy was carrying. Until I saw that she was cutting off little pieces and feeding them to the inside of her bag.

The cat.

There was no use telling her she couldn't have that out here, because there was really no reason. This place needed a happy distraction anyway.

I walked over to her table. "Why don't you take your feline friend out of that bag?"

Macy looked at me, sheepish but pleased. "You can come out now, Blair." The little cat jumped up onto the table and rolled onto her(apparently it was female) back.

"Oh, isn't she sweet," I said, rubbing Blair's stomach. "How old is she?"

"Three hundred and eight."

Either she was just pretending, or she didn't know how old the cat was, or both. But it didn't matter. A woman in her thirties came over and sat with Macy. She'd lost her children in the same accident that killed her husband and weapon, so I didn't object to her letting out her maternal energies on the girl. I went back to supervising the room, and over the course of the morning about half of the other patients came by to say hello to Macy or her cat.

It was refreshing. Most mornings went by in complete silence.

By midafternoon, Rachel was still with me. She worked hard all day and got a lot more done than she really needed to.

When everything immediately important had truly been accomplished, she decided to go to one of the empty rooms and do repairs on an old bookshelf that, while still functioned, had a weak shelf somewhere around the top. She brought it out onto the front porch so the sawdust wouldn't go everywhere and got to work.

I went into the front lobby a few times while she was out there, and I heard her yelling in frustration. I peeked out the window to see her panting, hands on her knees. She turned suddenly and whacked a nail that was half sticking out with a mighty yell. On any other occasion I would have wondered why she was using nails instead of screws, but at this point I was glad she was venting that frustration on inanimate objects instead of a person.

Huh. Speaking of people.

Drake Michael was one of the most charming boys I'd ever met. He had pale, pale blonde hair that was slicked back and bright blue eyes. He wore black jeans and an electric blue shirt under a black leather jacket, and his black skater shoes had purple laces. Every time he came by, he shook my hand warmly and said "It's so good to see you, Miss White," smiling so his freckles could be seen more easily. I'd never seen him and Rachel fight or hunt before, but I was sure that he made a great weapon.

Drake climbed the steps to the porch.

He and Rachel looked a little funny in their punkish clothes in front of my flower garden.

I saw Rachel look up from her work. I expected her face to split into that sweet grin she had, the big one reserved only for this boy. Each day when she left, she had that smile on when she ran into his arms before walking home.

Instead, she calmly put the hammer down, approached him, and slapped him in the face.

I gasped, and clenched the blinds I had been peeking out of. I then recomposed myself , shifting my weight so I wouldn't make the blinds move. My first instinct was to go out there and save that poor boy from Rachel's wrath, but Drake's wavelength had changed. He was annoyed. He wasn't surprised, so he must have done something to make her angry that he knew about, but he didn't feel too bad about it either.

His face, however, was apologetic. "Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"That's right you didn't think! You used your- your- gah! You have a lot of nerve showing up here today, Drake." She was at least eight inches shorter than he was, but she didn't seem to be wary of his size. Her expression was of disgust and a bit of heartbreak.

Drake sighed. "Rache, calm down. We can sort this out. Come home, we can talk about it." His exasperation started to show through, and he seemed to be giving her an order.

"'Talk' about it?" Rachel hissed, using quotation marks with her hands. "Turns out your version of solving problems has less to do with conversation and more to do with you losing your pants."

"Hey! How was I supposed to know what you thought about it? Look, quit being such a prude. You're, like, the only-" he used a word here teenage boys shouldn't use around girls they're trying to impress- "virgin in our entire class. I was trying to do you a favor. Everybody talks about how you're such a nun, it's bullshit."

"First of all, you clearly have very little understanding of English because-" she used the same word here- "is not a word anyone should ever put before virgin. Second of all, I don't give a damn what the other people in our class are doing in their bedrooms! The only thing I know is that you were seeing Meghan. Apparently I should be wondering who else you were with." She looked furious. "And the fact that there are so many boys like you is half the reason I'm this chaste."

"Look," Drake sighed. "Meghan and I... aren't doing so well. I mean, she's got a lot going on I guess and she's acting really bitchy all of a sudden. I just needed something a little different. You get it, right?"

"Of course I get it. You're a misogynistic asshole."

"I am a what? No. No, I partnered with you, knowing I'd have to deal with living with a girl but I looked past that! How dare you call me a misogynist!"

Rachel got quiet, but continued to look straight at Drake. "Because at least if you're a misogynist, you did it without thinking about Meghan specifically, and operated under a false assumption that our gender is all right to trample on. But if you aren't a misogynist, you were thinking that Meghan as a person does not matter, and you've been lying to her face for a year and a half. It's the difference between being ignorant and a genuine jerk."

"Like she would care! I know she's been sleeping with her weapon, it's not like this is totally new! Not to mention, you were right! You wouldn't be the first girl I cheated with! See, no biggie. It's all fine."

Rachel stared at him for a second, dumbfounded. "Sweet Jesus, Drake, how much sex do you have?"

Drake stared at her., making noncommittal shrugs and nods while trying to maintain a confident appearance.

Rachel gasped. "I came home yesterday and found different sheets on my bed. I was wondering if I'd lost my mind." She looked down, then at Drake, stepping forward. "You said you were working on your essay! And you dared... IN MY ROOM."

"Look, I'll do the essay tomorrow, ok? No girls."

"You were supposed to turn it in last night online! You're going to bring my average down, while boinking with girls I don't even know in my bed. I can't believe this! I'm going to fail, and you probably won't even feel bad about it!"

"My average only affects yours a little, and besides it's not like it matters. I'm going home after this, I don't even care what you do."

"I'm joining the police force! And you're seriously going back home? You're one of the best fighters in the class! Sex addict or not, the world needs your skill. I can't believe you wasted the last few years."

"You actually believe in that crap? The Deathscythe program is over, Rachel, and no one joins the DWMA just so they can die at the hands of one of the, what, ten kishin eggs left on the planet?"

"There are hundreds, you ass, and just because they don't send little kids out after them any more doesn't mean they aren't out there right now, taking innocent lives! And I am utterly disgusted in you, reducing the DWMA, the oldest and only haven for human weapons, to a party school. You have got to be kidding me."

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. "And you didn't ask me, either, you just treated me like some toy and that's what disgusted me."

Drake looked at her for a moment like she was stupid. "I didn't think I'd have to ask. The way you look at me, Rachel. I seriously didn't expect you to push me away like that."

I'd heard enough.

I let go of the blinds and opened the door. Drake turned to me and smiled.

"Good morning, Miss White," he said.

"Drake Michael, I would like you to leave," I told him, ignoring his greeting.

He looked at me blankly.

"I don't know if you've heard, but this is supposed to be a place for mental rehabilitation and you are not only disturbing the peace but also disturbing the mental faculties of my most trusted aide. If you do not leave this porch immediately I will be forced to show you why I was the top of my class in the DWMA back when competition for that title was fierce."

I think that within every older person there is a little part of their brain set aside for putting obnoxious young people in their place. Anyway, that was the only reason I could come up with for my sudden eloquence.

"O-kaaaaay." Drake turned away from me, not quite rolling his eyes. He shot a glance back to Rachel, but shook his head.

He walked down the stairs, got back into his car, and drove away.

"Dumbass," I mumbled, baffled by the stupidity of his last comment. "Where'd you find him?"

"Math club," Rachel groaned, sitting down on one of the porch's rocking chairs and rubbing her forehead. I raised an eyebrow at the irony.

"Rachel," I said after a minute of silence, not really wanting to bring it up but having to clear up something. "Stay here for a while. The employee rooms are unoccupied except for mine."

She just nodded.

I guessed I'd find out everything later. Or I wouldn't.

XXXXXXXX

"Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" I called into Macy's room, which was dimly lit from the bedside lamp.

"Um, no," came a matter-of-fact little voice from behind a pair of comforter-covered knees.

I walked around the bed to see Macy trying to replace the batteries in some small MP3 device.(1) She finished changing them and put the headphones back over her head, but apparently the batteries didn't work. Her face contorted in frustration for a moment before she turned to me.

"Sorry, I don't think we have any more." I told her. Her shoulders slumped. "What are you listening to?"

"Gregor the Overlander," she said, holding up a book by the same name. "Uncle Wes got it for me." She pointed to the headset. "It reads it to me and I follow along because I can't read that fast yet and this book is really big."

I looked at the clock. 7:45. Perhaps I had sent her to bed a little early. I took the book from her and started reading.

"Gregor reached out and grabbed the claw on Ares's left wing with his right hand. You could hear a pin drop as he spoke the words. 'Ares the flier, I bond to you.' That was all he could remember of the pledge Luxa had told him, but she was right behind him, feeding him the words in a whisper. 'Our life and death are one, we two. In dark, in flame, in war, in strife,' And the last line came to Gregor without prompting. 'I save you as I save my life.'" I stopped and looked at Macy. "Wait, who is this Ares person and why does he have claws and wings?"

"He's a bat!" She whispered excitedly.

"A bat? He's talking to a bat?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah! He's a giant bat that can talk and fly and carry people around!"

I looked down at the book. What kind of literature were they making for children these days? "A bat that talks? A warlock?"

"No, just a normal bat but really big." Her eyes were wide and she clearly loved this book very much.

"Macy, animals don't talk."

"That's not true. Blair talks."

"Sweetie, Blair might meow, but she doesn't talk. Cats aren't smart enough to understand our language," I told her. Normally I would play along, but I didn't want her to start speaking only to her cat because of what had happened to Nora. You can tell me I'm paranoid.

"Are you calling me stupid?" Came a high-pitched but older voice from the other side of Macy. The cat had one eye open.

To say I was surprised just didn't quite say it.

I was forced to use my shaky soul perception for the third time that day, and yes, the creature in front of me was a cat and not a witch.

I almost said something but Blair went back to sleep. Macy tried to get her audiobook to work again.

"Does your Uncle Wes spoil you?" I asked her.

She smiled and shook her head. "A little."

"How about your Grandma Evans? Does she spoil you too?"

"Um, no." Macy looked down. "I've never even talked to Granny."

Oh. I hadn't heard. "Well, I'm sure she's in a better place now." I didn't really know what to say to that if she didn't remember her.

"What?" Macy asked. "Oh, no, she isn't dead, she just doesn't like me and Mama."

"Oh."

It was odd. We'd put so much effort into making amends with the witches to protect our own children, but the high-status families of America still seemed to dread finding a weapon child. It was enough to cause finger-pointing and frantic inspection of bloodlines to see just where they were "contaminated" and whose fault it was.

But who would take it so far as to not speak to a child? Macy had what was probably the highest pedigree in Death City, the descendant of the last Deathscythe on one side, and a very long line of Deathscythes and Deathscythe meisters on the other. She was an antidemon and probably a Grigori-type, but her own grandmother still spat on her for being able to wield a human weapon.

"Come here," I said, gathering her up in a hug.

"Um, ok," came a muffled reply. I just held her for a minute, and then left.

"Go to sleep, " I told her on my way out.

I didn't actually hear her flick off the lamp.

After our nightly shutdown of all lights and final check of all patients, I took a shower, glad for some time to think and relax.

When I returned, I found Rachel sitting on the spare bed in my room. It wasn't where she was going to sleep, but I had told her she could come in if she liked.

She was wearing black pajama pants with some kind of glowy blue runes on them, and a loose t-shirt with a character I didn't recognize stamped on the front.

"I probably would've." She looked at her feet. "And that's the thing. I didn't see how bad he was until last night."

All right, so maybe I was wrong. Maybe a teenage girl could want to confide in an old woman like me.

"I told him to stop, slow down, why had he suddenly changed his mind? And he just kept going. He said, 'Don't you love me?' I think at least thirty percent of cases of girls getting pregnant in high school come from that one question." Rachel was still staring at a spot on the wall.

"You're probably right," I told her.

"Was it always like this, or am I right? It used to be an honor to be a scythemeister, didn't it?" Now she was looking at me.

I took a deep breath. "There have always been boys who are going to use their looks and their popularity to try to get... laid. But no, you're right, the DWMA was never a party school. You went there because you had to to learn how to keep from hurting your family. And if you were in the E.A.T. class, it was because you had accepted the possibility of your own early death. Of course there were meister-weapon relations, but that was because you had to trust them and you never left their side. It wasn't something you flaunted. It was for your own sanity."

Rachel was quiet for a minute. "And how long ago was that?"

"Only since the Kishin returned, what is it, thirteen, fourteen years ago? Ever since they made it an option to join the E.A.T. class without the goal being to create a Deathscythe, kids go there just to look tough. In my day, a coward couldn't join E.A.T. You had to be chosen, and you had to be devoted to the cause."

Rachel looked like she was going to say something, but she stopped.

"What?" I asked.

"You were in the E.A.T.?"

"Yes, as was my mother and her mother. But I ended up leaving before graduation."

Rachel seemed to understand what this might entail, and how I got here.

"Did you... lose... a weapon?" She asked.

People used to ask me this question a lot when I first opened the Home. Of course she wouldn't know, she hadn't been born yet.

"Her name was Saitou Madoka. She'd had to come here from Japan, and her English was shaky for the first year or so of our partnership."

"Did you help her learn English? Is that how you met?"

"No. No, I wanted the glory of being a scythemeister. I helped her learn English, yes, but my main goal was to make her a better weapon. We got along well, because the only thing she wanted out of life was to be a Deathscythe, and between the two of us our dedication put us at the top of the class. Eventually, I grew to like to her. She didn't really want to spend a lot of quality time with me, but she didn't seem that fond of anyone.

"But I... I liked her a lot. She was like a little, detached me." I looked back at Rachel and shrugged, then started straightening out the sheets for something to do with my hands. I had to sit down soon after, though. We'd been standing awhile and my back was killing me. I tried not to take my medications unless it got especially bad, but that was probably a mistake.

"They don't make you do the whole swap-partners-for-a-day thing, do they?" I asked her.

Rachel looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "A few times. Training for group resonance."

"But not actually going out and killing anything, right? No dangerous situations, only classroom work?"

"Well, yeah. But I always thought it was because there were so many different weapons you couldn't learn a new style for just one project."

"That's part of it, yes. But the thing is, even if you're fighting with another weapon of the same form, it's different. Not the same resonance."

"No, not at all," Rachel said.

"Well, they thought it was ok to do that anyway for a while. It used to be that there were less nontraditional weapons in E.A.T., and between two or maybe three years of classes you could pair just about everyone with someone else of the same type, or someone who ran on a similar wavelength so that you could actually handle them.

"We had three little 'missions', first to successfully resonate with your new partner, second to use that resonance to access the other's ability such as soul perception or flight, and third to go kill a Kishin egg with them. This had to be done within 72 hours.

"There was another scythe team in my year, so we just swapped, as my own weapon had the ability to be wielded by anyone. The other scythe was a fairly easy going young man, and we got along just fine. I made sure we were finished immediately and I let him get on with his life.

"She stayed with the other meister for the only two nights of the assignment. They were on track to finish early as well, and they were going hunting on the second day after school.

"I got a call on the third morning from my class. I had to go to the hospital wing, but she was already gone. The kishin had been a bit trickier than either of them thought, and the boy tried to use Warlock Hunter without knowing that Madoka didn't have that technique. It didn't hurt her, but it did leave them defenseless for about ten seconds. Madoka tried to defend the two of them herself, but she was killed."

Rachel hadn't broken eye contact with me.

"And now you know the whole story."

I looked down. "All right, missy. You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big visiting day and we have a lot to do." I guess it was obvious that I wanted to end the conversation, because Rachel could see right through me.

"It still hurts, after all this time?" She usually didn't mention my apparent age. Most thought I was around seventy, and questioned my ability to run this place.

"Yes, it does. But Rachel, I am not as old as I look."

There hadn't been any change in Nora's condition, but Macy wanted to see her anyway.

Sunday was a popular day for families to come, and once upon a time I wouldn't have left the building to make sure everything went well, but I trusted my orderlies and I trusted most of my patients, so I decided to go with the Evans to the hospital. I would come back this afternoon, when Macy would be with her parents in town. I didn't question Rachel's request to come with us.

They were going to take Macy home sometime this week if nothing changed, but they had agreed with my suggestion to keep her here at the Home for now in case any effects of the Kishin attack showed up.

Vicky took her on piggyback to the room. "Guess what?" she asked him.

"Chicken butt," he replied without energy.

I couldn't tell if Macy was trying to alleviate the boy's clear distress, or if she just thought everything was going to be ok no matter what.

I could hear the beeping of the electrocardiogram from the hallway, as the door was propped open. The kids were about ten steps ahead of us, and a little before the entrance Vicky skipped a step, causing Macy to squeal. But they both fell silent before they reached the door.

As soon as they entered, I heard the EKG speed up, and another beeping start up, louder. We picked up our pace, and upon entering the room I saw that Nora's heartbeat had become much too fast for someone who should be in a coma.

My first thought was that she had woken up. But she hadn't. I slammed the call button, although I knew they were probably on their way.

She started to convulse, and the nurses came in, shooing us out. Within three minutes, the beeping became less erratic. The nurses were bound to come out soon.

"Macy?" I heard Maka say.

I turned to see that Vicky was still holding the girl, who had fallen unconscious.

"Macy! Soul, come here."

Soul turned, rubbing the center of his chest. He slapped her face very lightly a few times, and when she didn't stir, he picked her off of Vicky's back and took her to a padded bench a ways down the hallway, where he laid her down. He ran back the way we came in search of help.

Right as he left, Macy's eyes opened and she blinked a few times.

Rachel stooped next to her. "Macy?"

"Uh-huh?"

"How do you feel?"

"My heart hurts," she said. "And so does my noggin, a little."

"Go back five minutes and tell me what you remember," Rachel instructed.

"Uh, I was riding on Vicky's back and he skipped and I laughed, and we went into Nora's room. Then I was here."

"It's weird," Vicky commented. "My chest hurts too, just not that badly."

I noticed a very slight twisting in my chest.

"I feel a little odd, too," Maka announced.

Both of Vicky and Nora's parents had a funny feeling, too, but none as badly as Vicky or Nora.

"Hey," Rachel said. "I feel fine."

"Stein?" I asked. His eyebrows turned a little.

"It has to be Nora. Part of her soul was taken by the Kishin, and it's likely she reached for Macy because they have the same wavelength, and are partners. Vicky is her brother, so they are the same as well. The rest of us are just feeling the same tug based on how close to her wavelength they are. Nora's soul is looking for the rest of itself." Stein looked concerned.

"So we have to stay away from her?" Asked his wife.

"I suspect it was caused by Macy's presence, but yes, it would be wise. Until this is no longer a problem. Which would entail getting the sliver of her soul that is missing back."

Rachel started to say something. "So could we-"

"Let's go for a walk. I'm sure Nora will be fine without us." Stein lead our group outside, and we met Soul on the way.

"She's fine, we're leaving, come along." Stein tried to give Soul a meaningful look. Soul looked confused for a moment, but followed anyway.

The ice cream shop was close by. We bought Macy a cone, and Soul offered her his MP3 player. She was effectively distracted from the conversation.

We found a picnic table in a park large enough to hold all of us, and I sat between Maka and Rachel, directly across from Stein. He didn't look at me.

"We have to find that Kishin," Maka said after filling Soul in on what was going on. "Nora's soul is still part of it, and she can't live without it. We'll go tonight."

"Rachel, do you understand what this means?" Stein's wife asked.

"Yes, Sensei Marie."

"I know you understand what's going on, but you know no one can know about what's going on, right?"

"We're going to have to feed Nora that soul, aren't we?"

"Yes," Marie said. "And that is illegal for an eight year old. I'm sorry you heard this, I should have sent you out earlier and I'm sorry. But you cannot tell anyone, not even your meister. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sensei Marie. You don't have to worry about me telling anyone, particularly not Drake. In fact, I think I should be the one to take down the Kishin egg. I've seen him, and I can get the soul into the hospital."

"Wait a second," I interrupted. "What do you mean 'your meister'? You're a meister yourself, and can you really take down a Kishin without Drake?"

Rachel blinked. "I'm sorry, I forgot you didn't know. I am a scythe."

"No you aren't. I have soul perception, and you surely look like a meister to me." I didn't use my ability that often, but I wasn't stupid, either. I knew the difference between a weapon and one who wields it.

I saw what was like a flash of bright light in my perceptive vision, and suddenly I did see. Rachel was a weapon. How odd.

"Soul protect, yes," Rachel said. "I'm sorry, I put it up to appear to be a meister while in the Home, because I didn't think it would be a good idea to be the only weapon in a place where meisters go to grieve over the loss of their own weapons."

"Are... are you part witch?" I asked, still trying to process this.

"Do you know about Medusa Gorgon, the witch who released the Kishin?" She asked.

"Yes, she infiltrated the DWMA as a nurse and released Asura while the Reaper was out of his room. She was killed by her child." I didn't know a whole lot about what had happened.

"She was killed once before, too. But she took over the body of a five-year-old girl and used it until she was able to take the body of her sister, Arachne. I was that girl."

Oh.

"A young weapon's form is decided by what is going to be the most useful in their environment. The Thompson sisters are guns because guns were useful where they grew up.

"When Medusa left my body, I didn't quite wake up. I drifted in and out of consciousness for about half an hour. During that time, I witnessed Arachne Gorgon's death at the hands of Maka. I saw that she wielded a scythe, and that battle was what made it possible for Soul to be a Deathscythe. I knew when I woke up that I wanted to go to the DWMA. Maka was my hero, and when I gained the ability to transform, I was a scythe because that was what I had learned was the best weapon to defend myself in a time when my mind was still learning vast amounts of information about the world all the time."

"And you can use soul protect because of Medusa's possession of your body?" I asked.

"Yes, and I have also noticed that my weapon form contains a lot of purple, which was the color of her magic."

It was a lot to take in. I thought I knew her better than anyone, and here I didn't even know what species she was.

"I am never going to be a Deathscythe, but I can sure as hell act like one. Please, let me kill the Kishin, and I'll use my soul protect to sneak its soul into the hospital."

The other adults looked at each other. Marie spoke up.

"Rachel is very good. And even though Franken and I or Soul and Maka could probably take it out more easily, she's seen it and she can find it."

No one really seemed comfortable with the idea. But there wasn't much other choice. Marie had been staying with Nora anyway, trying to use her healing wavelength to help her. It was probably best to keep her there since Nora hadn't reacted negatively to her presence until Macy showed up. Anyway, any meister who felt a higher-class weapon fighting was likely to try to investigate what was going on, which effectively eliminated any chance of putting Soul or Marie on the job.

"Rachel, give me your hand," Vicky said suddenly.

Rachel took his hand, and Vicky closed his eyes.

Rachel's scythe form was black and purple, with silver arrows on the staff that radiated from the head to the blade. Vicky spun her easily, causing some odd looks from the other people on the street.

"She's my sister," Vicky said. He didn't really need any other reason to want to participate.

XXXXXXXX

"Your form is off on the second twirl," I said to Vicky.

We were in the yoga/dance room of the Home, and I was trying to help Vicky fight with a scythe. He was usually an autonomous meister, but he knew a little because of his father.

We didn't have a lot of time, but I knew if this was going to work I needed to fix his bad habits before we went.

"Here, give her to me." I took Rachel from him. I was really just testing to see if I could step in for Vicky in case of an emergency.

"See how I step after I'm halfway through the second turn? The way you're doing it, you'll whack your own leg off," I told him exasperatedly.

To my relief, we were compatible. We'd already agreed I would go with them to take out the Kishin egg, because I would need to escort them into the hospital.

"What are you doing?" Macy asked from the door.

"I'm just giving Vicky some tips on scythe wielding. Do you need something?"

"No, I just saw you guys and I got curious. Hey, I can help!" Macy looked at me excitedly.

"Guess what! I got Blair a can of tuna, and I left it in the kitchen. You can go right now and ask someone to open it for you, and I'm sure Blair will be very happy about your gift!" I didn't really want her here when she knew Vicky didn't usually have a weapon. Kids could be distracted for a little while, but soon enough they started thinking too much and it wouldn't be long before Macy figured out something was up.

"Yeah, I'll give it to her later. Thanks! But can I watch you guys for a few minutes?"

I guessed a few minutes wouldn't hurt, and it would take more energy to get her out than to keep her in and then remind her to leave later. The trick I'd used would have worked on my own daughter, so now I was just winging it.

"Sure." I turned back to Vicky. "So if I'm your victim, and I'm standing here, what do you do?"

"I stand in this stance, and I shift my weight this much onto my right foot so I can swing with the blade outward and hit you from the side." Vicky moved in slow motion so he could narrate his actions.

"You're doing it wrong." Macy said. "You're gonna hit yourself in the shoulder with the tip." She got up and pointed to the end of the scythe, and it really was about ten inches from his shoulder blade.

Macy imitated his stance, and her arm started to glow. A black and silver scythe blade appeared that mimicked the angle Vicky was holding Rachel.

"You can't swing it that far, you have to keep the staff straight along your arm so it doesn't go far enough to spike you."

I had heard that Macy was a weapon, but I hadn't seen it. "Hey, do you ever fight like this? Or only with Nora?"

"Um, both at the same time. Nora's an izuna. Do you know what that is? It's a little thing like... this big that can electrify somebody's muscles and it helps you fight and I don't remember how but usually you can-"

"I know what an izuna is, I've seen her mother in battle."

"Oh right! I forgot that you and Sensei Marie are friends!"

"About Sensei Marie, she and Professor Stein and your Mama and Papa are coming to eat dinner with us. Can you go find them, and then tell me when they get here?"

"Oh sure! I can get them right now!"

Macy ran out of the room. Vicky rolled his eyes. "She's, like, ADHD or something."

We worked for the next few minutes, until Macy came back with the others. I made sure that all visitors were allowed in the dining hall after normal hours and that dinner was hearty.

Macy told us about what she was learning in school, and how the other students were doing. Thankfully she liked school enough to want to talk about it all through dinner, and no one else had to say anything. When we'd moved to dessert, which was eaten only by Macy and Rachel, she talked about her drums.

We walked Macy back to her room even earlier than the night before.

"You can read Gregor the Overlander while we're gone," I said. "Or take a nap. But I think you should get a little sleep because tonight we're going to go see Nora pretty late, later than you usually go to bed."

"I already finished the book. I read the rest even though the Playaway stopped working. So I'll read something else." Macy sat on the bed and Blair jumped up with her. By the time we walked out of the room, I heard her reading whatever her new book was to the little cat.

"You ready?" I asked Vicky.

Vicky gulped, but nodded anyway.

XXXXXXXX

Rachel was holding Vicky's hand as we ran down the street. She was using his perception to find the Kishin she'd felt through Drake a few days before, and she wanted to be able to turn her head. The fact that she was used to not being carried by a meister made me think she did a lot of solo missions, which only angered me more towards the rude boy who'd come by the day before.

Rachel stopped, and Vicky waved at me to signal they'd found it. I became utterly still, but Rachel shook her head. She touched my forehead, and projected a thought into my brain: "I've concealed us. He thinks we're stray dogs. A little sound is ok. However, he can see us as we are."

I nodded. Rachel ducked behind a trash can to hide the brightness that came from her transformation. Vicky picked her up and she resized herself to the scrawny boy's height.

I spotted the monster at the end of the alleyway. I was surprised at how normal he looked. In fact, he was just an average man who looked tired and dirty, and had blades for fingers. Granted, these blades were each the size of your average katana, but still.

Vicky looked a little unsure, but seemed to suddenly remember his younger sister and started running. He let out an anguished yell as he approached the man, warning him of his approach and making Rachel's cloak effectively useless. However, if he was mad enough but could keep his control, it wouldn't matter.

He swing the scythe outward, straight at the Kishin's neck just like I showed him, but the creature guarded himself with two silver fingers. He swung out with the other hand and Vicky ducked just in time to keep from losing his head, tripping over himself in the process. I saw his anguished expression and realized what had happened.

Two moves in, Vicky had twisted his ankle.

Cursing under my breath, I streaked in and snatched Rachel, blocking a swing directed at the boy. I tried to hit a knee- blocked. Torso- blocked. I tried to hit the area between his neck and his shoulder to split him down the middle- and was blocked again.

This wasn't going well.

It didn't seem to have any particularly special abilities, but it was good in straight combat. This was probably why it had been ranked as a lower-level enemy, and I was glad they hadn't sent a beginner after this one.

I vaulted over the creature and tried to pull the blade up and split him from the groin towards the head- but he turned his whole body metal and turned to face me.

My heart pounded harder than it used to when I did this every day.

"Molly?" I heard Rachel call. "Molly, are you ok?"

Something made me think putting my hands on my knees was all right, just for a moment. I guess I was just too tired. I felt my scythe leave my hands.

I heard metal on metal as Rachel spun too quickly for me to see- each combatant hitting and blocking, matched too well. Rachel had a few larger blades from her arms and back, but had covered most of the rest of her skin with sharp little scales. If any part of the Kishin hit her other than a blade, its skin would be shredded.

She attempted to sweep his legs out from under him to take advantage of this, but he stepped out of the way and kicked her, using the bottom of his shoe to protect himself. Rachel fell on her back.

I reached out and grabbed the man's ankle. Immediately, he slowed down. His eyes, once a deep purple, were an average brown.

Rachel blinked at him.

"He's confused." I said. "I am an antidemon, and I have made him sober from his soul-hunting frenzy for now. Get him." She didn't do anything. "GET HIM!"

"Molly, this is just a normal guy now. I can't kill him."

I looked at her. "Rachel, this guy was normal when he decided to kill the first child. Just because he doesn't look insane right now doesn't mean he isn't a bad person. Bad people can look just like everyone else." I was feeling weak.

It looked like my condition had come to affect my every ability. I couldn't do this.

"Rachel."

She finally understood.

His head landed on my back, knocking the breath out of me. It soon disappeared, and I quickly let go of his ankle as the man's body disintegrated into a red ball of light with scales of varying color.

One of those scales belonged to Nora.

Every one of them was probably another child, someone else helpless that this man could take down easily.

Rachel put the soul inside her jacket, and put Vicky on her back. He winced a little.

"Hey. Hey, Rachel."

"What?"

"That was super cool."

"You wish you could've seen that head, don't you?"

"Oh yeah."

We rounded the corner towards the hospital.

"We're here to see Nora Stein," I told the woman at the front desk.

"Visiting hours for that portion of the hospital are over for today."

"Well, this is her older brother, and he left his medication in her room." I explained. "Boys, haha. We will just be a minute."

The woman frowned at me, but made a gesture towards Nora's wing anyway.

Macy was sitting on a bench, swinging her legs.

"I can't go in," she whined.

"Just a minute, sweetie," Rachel told her.

We went into the room, and Rachel pulled out the soul, which had a faint purple bubble around it. The shield.

"Nora could pull that sliver out by herself," Stein told us. "Just like when she tried to pull Macy's soul away. Unfortunately, that would require releasing the soul protect around it, which can't happen. We're going to just give it to Macy, and hope for the best."

"Hope for the best?" Vicky demanded. "Dad!"

"It will work," Stein said. "I just haven't done it before."

We went back out to the hallway, and Stein and Marie each guarded an end to make sure no one saw us.

"Macy," Soul said. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's a soul, duh. I'm supposed to eat them when I get older." She paused. "They're so slimy."

"Well, it looks like you're going to have to eat this one now, ok? Because-"

"Ok!" And it was gone.

"Not as slimy as it looks," Macy commented.

Suddenly, she clutched her chest.

"It's the same feeling that I had this morning when I came here, but I'm fine now," she told us.

"Nora took it back," Vicky said. He laughed, picked her up, and squeezed her in a hug. "She took it back!"

Everyone ran in to the room, where Nora was still laying down.

She blinked, and opened her eyes, reaching around her and patting the bed.

"What is it, Nora?" Marie asked.

Nora's voice was raspy. "I can't find my glasses."

XXXXXXX

"Well, that looks like everything," I said to Macy, handing her her suitcase.

She stumbled under the weight, but kept holding onto it.

Maka reached down and took the bag from her daughter and put it on the ground. Blair jumped on top of it and started licking herself.

"Well, this has been an adventure," I said to Maka.

She laughed under her breath. "Yeah, I'm used to it, but it hasn't really hit so close to home before, you know?"

"Believe me, I get."

I motioned for Macy to come closer. From a dresser drawer, I produced the Harry Potter collection, on Playaway.

"Hey, if your grandma doesn't spoil you, who will?" I told her. She wasn't listening, she was just laughing hysterically at the hundred-plus hours of reading material in front of her.

"Macy, what do you say?"

"Oh! Uh, thank you! Thankyouthankyou!" She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome. Now get going, you have school tomorrow."

Macy walked out of the room, dragging her bag behind her. She tried to skip for a few steps, but couldn't. I laughed.

"Hey," Maka said, putting her arms around me. "Thank you, Mama."

XXXXXXXX

"Ok, I have a question," Rachel blurted out. "If Maka is your daughter, how old were you when you had her?"

"The math isn't right, is it?" I asked. "She's thirty, and I should have been too old by then to give birth to her."

Rachel looked a little uncomfortable. I knew she wasn't the type to bring up people's age, and so I had never told her what exactly had happened.

"I was seventeen."

Rachel looked up at me. "What?"

"When I had Maka. I couldn't even finish high school."

Rachel had seen enough weird things in her short life that she looked like she might believe me, but then I wasn't sure.

"After Madoka died, I had nothing. I couldn't fight by myself, and after three months of not taking a single mission my status as an E.A.T. class student was in question.

"I was angry at the boy who had cost my weapon her life. That boy was Franken Stein, Nora's father. I decided to cause him as much of the same pain as I could.

"I proved to his weapon, a boy only one year older than I was, that Stein's project on biology had been tested on him in his sleep. One day when Stein wasn't home, I followed Spirit into the apartment they shared and was able to find a vial of sleep drought, almost empty. Spirit immediately left his partner, and I offered to wield him for the remaining fifty-eight souls he needed.

"Two years later, we killed a witch, the final mission. Spirit had had many girlfriends over the course of our partnership, but it had been several months since the last one when we finished. That night, we... celebrated. At home. Alone. Three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant."
Rachel blinked, and looked down. She very much understood where I was coming from.

"I like you," I told her. "You work hard, and until I found out you were a weapon I saw you taking the place I could have had. And when you turned down Drake, I was sure you would have made an excellent Deathscythe meister. I only wish you could have been there when we needed you more."

Rachel finally spoke. "Me too." She looked up again.

"Maka has an interesting name," she commented.

"I learned quite a bit of Japanese when I was with Madoka. I used to call her Maka, which is an anagram for 'scythe' in their language, 'kama.' Her older brother called her by it first. I saw a postcard he sent her with that on it."

"So," she began. "You're forty-seven?"

"Yes. Losing one weapon is hard, losing two is worse." I took a deep breath. "Spirit and I did the right thing. I had loved him for a while, though I did not admit it to myself, and Spirit seemed to feel the same way. The first years of our marriage were happy, even though I had had to drop out of school. If Spirit had not been a finished weapon, things would have been very different. But he was the reaper's scythe, and he could take care of us alone."

"But when Maka was about five, I found out that he had been with another woman while away on a mission. I was furious. I decided to do some looking, and I found nineteen other women in Death City alone who were very surprised to learn he was married, and that doesn't even include the ones who did know and didn't mind."

"I asked him to stop. Repeatedly. Maka grew hostile towards him, and when she started to shy away from boys at school I knew I had to put an end to this. I moved out, and I took Maka with me.

"I made sure she knew Sid and Joe, two men I had grown up with who had treated their female weapons well. I commented on the boys she knew at school, showing her how some were nasty and some weren't.

"But she always held just a little wariness towards them, and she always had a strong contempt for her father. She came home panicked one day, when a new boy had joined her class, who had just moved in from Memphis. He was the only scythe, and we had found out scythes were the only weapons she could wield.

"I told her to go ask him to be her partner, that he was her only chance. I hoped I didn't tell her to pick someone else like Spirit, but they were young enough that I thought he would develop a loyalty towards her before he developed a liking for girls.

"She moved into a school-supplied apartment with him the next week.

"It was only a few months after I had left Spirit, and it became apparent just how bad my mistake in high school had been. I had no source of wealth. I had nowhere to go.

"It was just like when I had lost Madoka.

"I formally filed for divorce and bought a piece of land, an older mansion with twelve bedrooms. I had the support of the DWMA,thankfully, and I had the funding I needed to fix up and start up the Home. Years later I expanded it, but that was pretty recent."

"I remember," Rachel commented. She didn't work here yet, though.

"If Spirit hadn't been there, I would have had no hope for a future. Once you train to be a meister, there isn't much else you can do. I knew there were other people out there who needed this.

"But my health started to fail.

"Maka was promoted to E.A.T. only three weeks after partnering with Soul, and started to take on missions. She called me every night for that whole year, telling me about how well she was doing. She told me she was just trying to be like me. Meanwhile, I began to develop arthritis. I was still in my twenties.

"I had been thinking constantly about how much I hated Spirit. It had consumed me. I know now that suddenly changing my feelings about my weapon like that only fueled the problem that had started when I lost Madoka. I developed weird health problems, and within three years I was aging at quadruple pace.

"I'm dying, Rachel," I told her.

"I stopped calling Maka back when I missed calls. She idolized me, and I knew I couldn't hold up even to her, let alone her expectations. I continued to send her clothes and school supplies, but my actual contact with her was minimal until Macy was born."

I took a breath, and shooed Rachel out of my way for the moment. I walked over to the bed and pulled out a black and blue metal scythe from underneath.

"I bought this at the bazaar. He called it a soulless weapon, but I know some graverobbers will dig up a weapon and force a transformation out of them if they're less than a week or so dead. I wonder sometimes if this is Madoka, just dulled down. I know, it would be a very big coincidence, but I picked this one out because it looked very similar to her.

"I keep it here in case anyone dares attack this place at night. Everyone knows the meisters here are defenseless." I shook my head. "But I can't do this every day. I got so tired just this evening, I don't know how long it will be before I can't protect this place, and then when I can't run it because I'm dead."

Rachel sat down next to me.
"I'll be here."

I looked at her. "That's a generous offer, kiddo, but I can't take your future away from you. You can't give up the police, they need fighters like you."

She looked back at me. "I know. I'll help them for awhile, but when I am done I will come here. It's going to be a long time before then, ok?"

I stared sadly at her.

"We need you here. You can't die on us so soon. And I know you'll need help, but that's fine. I'll be here, and I know Macy will want to help one day too. And I am sure there are other kids at the DWMA who would be willing to help, too, they just don't know you need it.

"It'll be fine. You don't have to do this alone."

END

(1)- As the computers in the canon series use DOS, and the phones are clunky and have cords, I assume the series canon takes place in the late eighties, early nineties. For this reason, all technology in this fic is modern, 2010-to-present-ish.

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