Soul Eater is such an awesome show! The characters are so quirky! Death the Kid is kind of annoying sometimes though. I mean really, people are dying, who cares if you forgot to fold the toilet paper into a triangle? But I love Soul. He's the greatest. The piano-playing is so wicked awesome!

I also LOVE the moon and the sun! They are so creepy yet awesome!

X X X

Screaming…! The screaming was awful, hard to listen to, painful. It just went on and on and on, forever, like the screams from the red mouth of that black sword. The emaciated meister's mouth opened wide and black, those terrible cries escaping as pale fingers dug through violet hair as if to hold a monster inside the skull. And the screams went on and on like the dying sounds of some tortured animal.

Even harder to watch was the weapon tearing out of that twin-thin black-clad body, watching the body fold like wet paper, crumbling inwards and clutching skinny arms around skinny shoulders as if desperate to hold that frail body together. But heedlessly, the weapon tore out like a monster, painfully ripping the meister's body to shreds even though no wound was left behind. God, how hard that was to watch… How much that must have hurt!

Then, the weapon beat up his poor meister with big heavy fists, poor Chrona. In a poor whining resigned tone of voice, as if this happened all the time, Chrona protested like a small battered child. "Ouch. That hurts me. Please, stop. It hurts and it hurts. You're crushing me. Don't push my nose. Don't pull my face. You're bruising me. Please, stop it. That hurts."

And the weapon would threaten right back as if Chrona was doing something bad to him, too. "If you don't stop it, I'm going to eat all your food at dinner tonight. I'm going to put your face in the toilet. I'm going to punch you again. I'm going to hurt you."

But Soul Eater wasn't like that. He would die for his meister. He would die to protect Maka.

The dull black gleam of Ragnarok flashed in the cathedral as it arched down on both of them. The weight of Soul's hilt in her hands was a comfort. She wouldn't use him, not now, not even to save herself, not knowing that blocking Ragnarok's vibrations tore his body apart. Maka wouldn't do that to him and he knew that. Then, suddenly, the weight of him in her hands was gone and she felt the spray of hot coppery blood on her face. When she opened her eyes, Soul was already lying on the ground at her feet.

Soul Eater wasn't like Ragnarok. He would die for his meister. He would die to protect Maka.

Even so…

It was dark in the cathedral and Maka was wearing Chrona's dark robe. It was itchy on her bare flesh, prickling, and her body felt heavy and sick. For a moment, she stood alone, wondering where Soul was. Then, there was a sudden sharp agony in her back—tearing flesh and bone apart. She let out a scream, clutching at her body, trying to figure out what was cutting her, but it felt as if it was coming from inside her body. She couldn't stop screaming.

Then, she felt the heat of Soul's body on the back of her head. He dug his hands in her loose hair.

"Soul," she whispered. She was happy that she wasn't alone anymore in this dark creepy place in Chrona's itchy clothing. Soul would help her now. He would figure out what was hurting her and he would make it stop. He would save her again.

The slap was sudden, a small whip-like crack across her cheek.

"Please, stop," she said in a small fearful voice. "That hurts me."

"You're so uncool. What's wrong with you? I should put your face in the dirt." Soul's voice cut into her, echoing against the vaulting walls of the cathedral.

"Please don't," she begged him.

He pinched her nose, yanking and pulling on her face. He jerked on her hair, pulling her head back at an uncomfortable angle so he could glare down into her face. It looked almost as if he was coming out of her body, his torso cracking out of her back like a wound. He didn't say anything, just stared meanly at her with those blood-red eyes. Then, Soul licked his lips and grinned a mean sick smile and she knew he was going to do something horrible.

A scream tore from Maka's throat!

The bright light in Maka's room came on abruptly, snapping away the last vestiges of her nightmares.

Blair was standing in the doorway wearing a black lace teddy, her full breasts pressing out, and holding a bottle of wine in her long-fingered hand while the other rested on the light switch. "Maka? Is something wrong?" the magical cat asked curiously and not without some concern. Her eyes shone in the dark. "You were… crying out in your sleep. Do you need anything? How about some warm milk? Do you want to talk?"

Panting, Maka put a trembling hand to her forehead. She pressed herself into the pillows and gathered the blankets against her chest. "No, I'm okay. Thanks though," she said to Blair.

Though Blair's shining eyes narrowed, she turned off the light and continued to her bedroom down the hall.

Maka let out a rush of breath and tried not to cry. She wrapped herself in the blankets and rolled over so her back was to the door and she could gaze up at the laughing face of the moon. Thankfully, the scream in her dream hadn't escaped into the real world. She wasn't sure she'd be able to wave that away so easily and Soul would never have let it go regardless.

Soul…

Maka whimpered. He had come so close to dying. If her father and Professor Stein hadn't come to save them, oh god, Soul would be dead, but she had already shed her tears for that. Now, she was trapped in the world where Soul was like Ragnarok and she was Chrona. She couldn't imagine what it was like to have your weapon partner—someone you had to trust with your life—hurt and abuse you like that. It was the ultimate betrayal and Chrona lived like that.

She dried her face on the sheets and yanked her pillow under her head, crying into it. Yes, it was horrible, but Soul was nothing like that. She could trust and depend on Soul to always be there for her. He was her weapon partner, her trusted friend, and her closest ally. Though she did sometimes want to kill him, she would never be able to live without him. She knew that he would never be like Ragnarok so why were these nightmares always sneaking into her head?

Her bedroom door creaked open.

"I'm okay, Blair," she called, voice muffled by her pillow. "I don't need any warm milk."

Blair was sweet, but she was a cat and she tried her best to play mother to Soul and Maka, but Maka didn't need any mothering right now. (Actually, a little less fathering would be nice, but that was completely different.) She just needed these nightmares to go away so she could get some rest. She was still exhausted from the fight with Chrona and Ragnarok, from the stress of almost losing Soul, and the exhausting joy she had been filled with when he finally came home yesterday all stitched up like a lab experiment.

Footsteps crossed to her bed.

"Blair, really, I'm okay," Maka insisted.

"It's not Blair."

Then, her blankets were lifted, letting in a rush of chilly air, and Soul slipped into her bed beside her. The heat of his body was like heaven against her exhausted frame, but she had to pull away from him, slap him, and get him out of her bed. He had his own bed and he didn't belong in hers. Gathering up some agitation, she reached under her pillow for her book so she could enact her famous Maka-Chop on him, but his voice stopped her cold.

"I can feel your soul, Maka, and something's really bothering you. You're exhausted. Whatever it is, it's keeping you up at night. I've even heard you crying out, screaming, sometimes," Soul said firmly. "You have to talk to me."

Her blood froze in her veins. "You hear me screaming?"

She felt him nod and rolled over to face him.

Soul's tan face was dappled with yellow moonlight, making him look sick and tired. His silvery hair was mussed from sleep and she realized that she had woken him. His red eyes gleamed like twin rubies in the darkness and she was reminded of the cruelty in his face from her nightmares, the blood-lust and almost hatred in his eyes. In his mouth, his pointed demon teeth gleamed and she wondered how much it would hurt if he bit her.

"Maka."

"Huh?" Startled, she jerked her eyes down from his face.

"You're staring at me and you're afraid. What is it?"

Nervously, she lifted her eyes again but couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. What could she say? That she kept dreaming of him tearing out of her body and beating her up like Ragnarok did to Chrona? Or that she was glad he didn't hurt her? No, she couldn't say that.

Soul sighed and draped his arm over her body. When she didn't shove him onto the floor, he carefully pulled her against him and rested his chin on the top of her head. Her soft hands pressed against his chest, pressed against the wound bisecting his chest, and he winced at the faint twinge of pain. It still hurt. He wondered if she could feel the stitches and ridges or feel the pain through their linked souls, but he didn't ask about that. Instead, he whispered, "Is this about what happened with Chrona?"

She jolted and pushed against his chest as if suddenly eager to escape him.

Even though it hurt, he kept his arms around her and held her tightly against him. "You know I would die for you, Maka, but that's a decision only I can make," he said softly. "You know that. This wasn't the first time I've put my life on the line for you and it probably won't be the last."

She shuddered against him.

"Come on, we've talked about this already. I thought we were over this. It's not your fault I was hurt. If I had really wanted to, I could have remained in scythe form and let Chrona kill you, but I didn't. I chose to save you and I lucked out."

She sniffled and dug her fingers into his shirt. "I know, Soul, thank you."

"Now, you have to tell me what's going on. We trust each other, we protect each other, we promised. We're partners," he said into her hair and hugged her closer against the heat of his frame. "Maka, please, just tell me. Whatever it is…"

She shook her head and put her face into his chest. Ragnarok's mean words echoed in her mind, twisting with Chrona's desperate pleas. She shivered despite Soul's comforting warmth and his strong arms around her.

"Maka, please, tell me."

"It's…" Tears burned in her eyes. "I wanted to thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For saving me," she lied. She had already thanked Soul for saving her. She had cried pathetically and he had neatly explained to her that he had wanted to protect her and that he always would. Soul was special and kind—he was nothing like Ragnarok.

"That wasn't it. I can feel it inside you," he whispered. "Tell me the truth. We promised."

She sniffled and he stroked her hair. "I really wanted to thank you for… for never hurting me."

There was a moment of silence and then Soul pushed her back a few inches so he could look into her face. The golden moonlight kissed his features and hung in his blood-colored eyes. His expression was genuinely confused and he asked her, "What do you mean?"

Maka lifted her hands to wipe her teary eyes, but Soul placed her hands back on his chest and gently wiped her tears away with his thumb. "Well, you saw how Ragnarok treats Chrona—how he abuses and hurts and torments Chrona—and I'm so glad that you… that you don't treat me that way."

"Then those nightmares are…"

She nodded, feeling stupid. "Yeah," Maka whispered. "I'm Chrona and you're Ragnarok. You're hurting me."

"And that really scares you?" His voice was tender, but also slightly confused.

"Yes," she confessed. "I just couldn't imagine…"

"Good," he whispered and hugged her closer. "Don't imagine it anymore, Maka. You know I'm not like that."

"I know, but—"

He put his fingers on her lips. "No, buts. You have to stop thinking about it." Their eyes met and Soul's lips smiled gently. "I would never hurt you."

Another tear ran down her cheek. "I know, Soul."

He wiped it away and then spent another short moment in her bed with her, holding her tightly against his damaged chest. Then, he slipped from beneath the covers, padded across the room on bare feet, and closed the door softly behind him.

Smiling faintly, Maka snuggled down in the covers, relishing the warmth left behind by his body and inhaling his lingering scent. Then, she closed her eyes and dreamed of the first day she and Soul met—of the day he played piano for her for the first time—and she didn't dream about Chrona or Ragnarok anymore.

X X X

I did my best to keep Chrona genderless, but it was so hard.

I really felt like this angst really belonged in the show. Poor Chrona is so pathetic and Ragnarok is such a jerk! If I was in that situation, I'd have to hug Soul for being so sweet and nice to me with only the occasional mean moment.

Drop me a review and let me know what you think! Are the characters way out of character? Does everybody hate Ragnarok because you definitely should? Think I torture Chrona way too much? Are permanently disgusted and can no longer even watch Soul Eater thanks to me? Loved it? Hated it? Are scared for life because no one ever thought of that? Are traumatized by the thought of so much crazy meanness? (Remember, flames will be used to roast marshmallows and weenies! And I'll most likely flame you back for being silly.) Think I need to do more editing before I post chapters? Post to slow? Chapters are too short? Too long? Yada, yada, yada…

Second, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger. (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

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