"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives."

-William Dement


Some people were too loud for their own good; Or, in this case, for their daughter's good.

Even though the door had been slammed shut a good half hour ago, even though he had his mp3 playing at full blast, and even though he'd pulled down his headband so that the fabric muffled the screeching from outside, he could still make out every insult, slight and slur that was thrown between the warring parents. It'd started when Maka's Mama had called her Papa irresponsible for letting her get hurt like this, and he'd fired back that at least he was around to watch her grow up. Things had exploded from there.

Funny, he'd never pegged Maka's old man as the type to blow up like this; had been expecting more of a whimpering plea for her to get better; Lots of begging and sobbing of semi-manly tears. No such luck.

And he'd wondered where Maka got her lungs from.

…Not that her lungs were doing her much good at the moment. Soul risked a sideways glance at his slumbering meister, tube down her throat and all. The plastic in place had something to do with the sword striking too deep, something else about how it vibrated like an electric saw and was vaguely connected to this black blood he'd been [over]hearing so much about.

Hey, he'd been paying attention to the details...!

It had just been stupidly difficult to pull the truth of what was going on with Maka out from in between the lines of Stein's ramblings. He guessed that the meaningless answers were supposed to make him happy and feel better since the whole lot of BS sounded kind of uplifting if you took it all in one gulp. If he squinted a little, stood on one leg and hopped in place fifty something times, he might have dared to think that his partner was going to be a-okay.

Fidgeting in the uncomfy plastic chair, Soul leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The fact that Stein had been lying in the first place was more than unsettling; wasn't like the doc was a big ol' softie or anything. For the umpteenth time that hour, his mouth twitched as it fought to frown. And it wasn't just because of Death Scythe and Kami-san's contest over who could screech louder at the other one.

Hah, and here Maka had been telling him about how her Papa claimed he couldn't stop sobbing after the divorce due to his undying love for her Mama. Sure didn't sound like that at the moment.

…Oooh, ouch. Especially after those last few words.

"Can't you make them shut up for Maka's health or something?"

Medusa-sensei paused in her paperwork, lingering just long enough to appear in thought before shrugging and leaning back in her chair to address the weapon. "I believe, Soul-kun, that some things just need to be worked out. If I were to break them up, they'd just start back up eventually, wouldn't they?"

"…Guess so." Just because he agreed with the logic didn't mean that he had to like the answer or anything.

Smiling grimly, the nurse turned back to her work. "Besides, if I were to stop them, Death Scythe might just start hanging on me, and I know for a fact that Kami-san wouldn't appreciate that." Soul snorted; Understatement of the century. He hadn't even been introduced to Maka's mama yet and he still knew that she was violent as hell.

"Although, sleeping with another woman's husband does tend to make you mortal enemies no matter what, I think. Fourteen years and that woman still can't let it go. Personally, I believe she's angry that I'm not flat like her." He did not need or want to know this. Ugh. Yuck. If he had anything to say about it, Maka wouldn't know either. There were limits. The sugary sweet smile plastered on Medusa-sensei's face was definitely pushing that limit.

Honestly, what was it with the female population? They were all either flat, violent, crazy, or all three.

Flat: He was convinced she'd been stuffing tissue paper down her shirt. He'd seen tables with more topography.

Violent: Gave him concussions as a pastime. Liked to scream and yell and bare her teeth if the odds were stacked against them. Ducking and weaving and slashing came to her like she'd been born and bred for it.

Crazy: Didn't know when to stop. A frikkin' masochist who didn't realize that allowing him to end up with a few more bruises and bumps was a much better idea than letting her take the blow and make him watch as she tumbled. Who didn't care that she'd left him here to wonder what if…

…if he'd gotten up? He'd tackled their attacker from behind? Blocked it with an arm…flat out taken the blow himself and it'd been his blood flying through the air and getting everywhere and making her feel like she'd screwed up big time and that there was nothing she could do and shit what if he died and that was way too much blood and all the classes in the world didn't prep them enough for this and sometimes it just wasn't fair but what the hell they'd signed up for this a little too quickly if all they did was die 'cuz of some insane bitch with issues!

Friggin vicious cycle. He breathed in, breathed out, played with the gauze and bandages wrapped around his neck and shoulder from where the stupid sword had bit him. Tried to calm down. (He ignored the part where his hand had scrambled to find hers, remind him that she was there.)

When the volume outside seemed to have been turned up a few more notches, Soul sighed and leaned back in his chair, fidgeting until comfortable and adjusting his headband in the hopes of blocking out more noise. "This is all your fault, you know."

If Soul noticed Medusa-sensei stiffen at her desk, he didn't say so.

How much longer was this going to go on? Maybe, if it kept going, he'd risk yelling at the pair himself. Just to see if he could shock them into silence. Then again, he'd probably end up with a concussion. Or dead. Death Scythe had already made it pretty clear how pissed he was.

"Stupid Meister, being an idiot and getting hurt badly enough to have the school call her mom in from the other side of the world to say goodbye incase…" This time, it wasn't just a twitch of the mouth, a full fledged frown split across his face. "…incase something happened."

"DON'T PUT THIS ON ME, IT'S YOUR FAULT FOR BEING SO – SO – UGH!" Kami-san sounded far too much like Maka. Soul cringed. The universe was freaky like that sometimes; it liked to answer questions that he'd rather leave unanswered. (Because wasn't he supposed to be the one dying here? So was it his fault for failing to get up when dropped? For making her afraid to guard with him? For just failing in general?)

He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. This wasn't the time to be thinking uncool thoughts like that. If Maka blamed him for this, he'd find out about it. Later. When she woke up. Now was the time to focus on the music blaring in his ears and drown out the rest of the world so that the hours could slip away and Maka could just wake up.

"Soul-kun, do you want some pills to help you sleep? I'm afraid that this might drag on a while longer. I don't think Maka-chan will be up for a while yet, so you won't be missing anything other than a shouting match."

"Nah, I think I'll-"

Medusa-sensei cut off the protest with a sugary-sweet smile that promised nothing short of pain and misery at the mercy of her favorite set of needles. It seemed someone had been taking intimidation lessons from Stein. "And as your nurse, I strongly recommend that you rest. I might have to…escort you off the premises and into a proper bed if you don't. That gash on your shoulder isn't going to heal itself."

Now if that wasn't a threat, he didn't know what was. Cool guys didn't pout, but his face apparently didn't know that. "What's wrong with me sitting here? If I leave, Maka'll totally kick my ass when she wakes up for not being here."

He nodded like it was a very scientific conclusion that he'd just come to. "Maka believes real strongly in all that partner touchy-feely mumbo-jumbo that we got fed in resonance 101." Yes, he believed what he'd just said thankyouverymuch. He had a constant concussion to prove it. No, he wasn't in denial.

"Aw, that's cute. You don't want her to wake up alone save hear her parents screaming at each other. Very romantic. I give you an A for effort."

Was this woman deaf!? Or she was reading waaaaaay in between the lines. So far between that he didn't even know the spaces had been there. And he'd been the one speaking.

"And that does make sense. Silly me, only thinking about Maka-chan's physical health. Mental fitness is just as important. Screaming parents make unhappy children. And unhappy children blame themselves and sometimes end up slitting their wrists and bleeding all over the pretty carpet. Such a shame."

Lalalalalaaaa, he couldn't hear Medusa-sensei talking. Didn't want to. He didn't know what scared him more, the words themselves or the monotone tenor that she'd used while speaking them. Honestly, the lady got into these funks sometimes, and turned scary as hell. Any second now she'd be pulling out a scalpel just like Stein. Maybe that was the problem? Too much Stein?

"Although…if it makes you feel any better Soul-kun, I think, in this case, it's not so much a problem of them not loving each other as it is of their worry for Maka-chan outweighing that love." And suddenly, she was back to the sweet school nurse who wouldn't hurt a fly.

The woman sighed slightly, smiling in a way that screamed to Soul that she was trying her best here and he should totally just drop the subject so she could get back to work. And his brain when oh, okay. Let's just ignore how freaky she was a few minutes ago. And that's what his brain did. Forgot about it and focused on poor Medusa who was just trying to make him feel better. Just like magic.

"I'm not making much sense am I?"

"Nope. Not at all. I'm a guy. We're not known for our sensitive sides."

Exactly.

Which was why he was still sitting there when Maka did wake up.

Silly men.


Maka liked The Room.

From the heavenly comfort of the overstuffed chair to the warm honey light filtering in from unseen lamps to the rows of shelves, overflowing with books of all kinds, that lined the walls of The Room, she couldn't get enough of this place. It helped, kind of, that venturing out of The Room brought her to her knees in pain, screeching and screaming and sobbing and crying and tearing at her chest like it was on fire; babbling nonsense to the blackness in some futile hope that help would arrive and drag her away from the pain and darkness that wanted to crush and shred and tear and rip her apart.

But here, she was safe to find refuge in a book. She loved books.

A clock, also unseen, chimed sweetly to inform her that it was three in the afternoon. And so the act began again. Like a marionette on its strings, Maka's head was pulled up to look forward and watch the scene unfold.

The Door, the only door in The Room, the door to out there where there was only pain and crying and general unhappiness to welcome her, opened of its own accord, and in trotted The Lady, charcoal black dress dragging on the floor behind her. There was a near inaudible click as The Door closed on its own, overshadowed by the sharp clack of The Lady's heels on the tile floor as she glided forward with steps so horribly prim and proper that Maka was sure they'd been practiced to perfection in front of a mirror too many times to count.

And like every other time before this, The Lady spoke. (But what language? Maka knew the meaning but not the words, could see the lips moving but couldn't quite make out the voice.)

"Hello, dear. Would you like to watch some television? Young children like television, don't they?" Silent, the girl fiddled with the edges of the book as The Lady continued with her script. "We've got cartoons." Maka shook her head. "Too young? There're some news channels if you want to be a big girl. I'm sure we could find you something. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Once more, because she already knew how this little play was going to end, Maka found herself speaking in the familiar squeal of her four-year old self. "No thank you, Ma'am. I like reading. I love books very much." Like every other time, she smiled her toddler-smile to go along with her perfect little lady manners and turned back to the book that had suddenly become just as heavy as she was. It was now large enough (or rather, she was now small enough) that when open, it hid her legs from view.

"Very well, Maka-chan, but it's television time now. No books allowed. I'll have to put you away." And now Maka was the book. (Why couldn't they skip this part?) And The Lady picked her up in her prim and proper and perfectly manicured little hands and wedged her between two other books on the shelf. She fit just right, snug as a bug between her friends.

The Lady walked away, job complete, shutting The Door behind her with an unsettling kind of finality.

And Maka was stuck.

Couldn't move. (Fast-forward, it'd be over eventually)

Couldn't speak. (But still, you never knew, what'd happen if…)

Couldn't breathe. (Maybe this wasn't a dream?)

Couldn't feel couldn't hear couldn't see couldn't touch couldn't taste couldn't understand couldn't cry couldn't go on couldn't live.

She woke up screaming. (Repeat the motions)


Hah, Nurse!Medusa is awesome. I can totally picture her being sadistic and smiling and saying that it's for the patient's health etc while jamming a probe up the poor patient's ass. Kind of like Unohana from Bleach :P

Though, I'm wishing I had actually had Kami show up. I feel bad for making her first impression as a yelling/screaming match but…er, she loves Maka very much? I dunno. All we know about Kami is what Maka describes her as, and from that description I got 'loud, pushy, righteous, mom'

The Maka part was…fun. :D I dare someone to guess what it's supposed to mean outside of the standard HAH IT'S THE BLACK BLOOD SHOWING UP! Because I love foreshadowing :P

Um…side note. SE 45 looks intense. Can't wait :D