Chapter One:

Reality Is What You Define

It had been a week since Stein had accepted Medusa. He knew that his sanity was momentarily spared. He knew he either had to live completely without her or completely with her, and he had chosen the latter. The meister tried to not think about those two past choices: because if he did then he was apt to wonder which was wrong and which was right. Perhaps there was no right one, but one had to be less wrong, right? However, Stein couldn't deceive himself with the thought that Medusa was harmful. Because, she wasn't. She wasn't some venomous snake, trying to sink her translucent fangs into his skin and destroy his body. Medusa had been teaching him, helping him, saving him. She had stopped his madness, and began making him feel human. No, Stein had always felt human, but he felt distance. He could not enjoy things that others seemed to enjoy, seemed to be addicted to.

In the confines of his house, Medusa and Stein talked and experimented and spent time together. Like partners of science, comrades... friends? Although sometimes it had been hard to comprehend her ideas. Stein never looked inward, he didn't consider himself a man of action, but he was a man of harsh reality. He had little to no imagination, memorized everything as if it were the answer, and experimented. He needed answers. He wanted answers. But not about himself, about the world around him. And in some ways, he envied Medusa for so easily doing any experiment she wanted; her lack of morals.

'You moral-less woman,' Stein had told her only a few nights ago, as she suggested they lay in bed together and talk in quiet whispers. Stein found the idea ridiculous but he needed to hear more of her intriguing discoveries. The witch had only laughed at his monotone shock. 'I cannot disagree with you there, Professor,' was her reply. They had spoken more and then Medusa suggested something to calm the doctor. She wanted to reproduce. Well, she called it something else: "make love".

Stein felt even that term to be absurd and inquired why she would use such a lowly expression beneath her knowledge. She told him although she had her medical degrees, she was still a woman, and women preferred the term. Stein wasn't a man of laughter, but if he were, he would have busted a nut. The act was only to reproduce, and that would be what it should be for. His weapon partner, Spirit Albarn, was his main example of the cons of reproducing. You got offspring that became a feminist, lost a "significant other", and then did the act of reproduction more and did weird things- VERY weird things. Childishly, the professor wondered if doing it would make him like Spirit.

After it was done, the witch left him. It was near time for him to prepare for his day. Doing it had made him feel like an animal, but he understood why all the idiots did it: a sense of satisfaction he couldn't even get from his dissecting calmed his body to such an extreme the professor would call himself content at that time. But he didn't want to do it again. Never again would he do it.

"Professor Stein?" A curious voice interrupted his reverie about all that had been happening in the past week. The doctor turned around, realizing that he had been staring at the chalk board for quite an extended length of time.

"Hm?" He grunted, looking at Maka Albarn. She looked at him with worried green eyes.

"I just had a question..." She trailed off, losing her tongue when the time had come to ask but a simple thing. Stein's feature seemed to brighten before her eyes, and the teacher pulled out a packet of his cigarettes; lighting them and then taking a long drag.

"Go ahead," Stein prompted her to continue and Maka smiled. Perhaps his behavior was nothing to worry about, at least for the moment he was himself.

xxx

"Stein," The meister turned his head to look at the witch. She was sitting on his desk, looking through papers. "People are being suspicious of how you've been acting." The professor was about to just nod his head and continue on with his work, lately he had been into researching blood, but then paused and thought about what she said. How would Medusa know what others were thinking? That he seemed suspicious? He'd only been home or at Shibusen, maybe walking the streets but those were always when the crowds were gone. More importantly, where did Medusa go when she left him every night? Why was she telling him what to do, what to be careful of. Why was he listening to her? Using one finger to slid his spectacles up his nose further, Professor Stein stood up at his full height and confronted the witch.

"And how," His voice was blatant yet defiant, "exactly would you know that?" Medusa didn't look abashed at his question, merely she continued reading the papers. Minutes passed and the witch continued reading the same paper. Wasn't she a fast reader? She should have been finished with it, it was just a minor data table of his hypothesis and some research factoids. "Answer me, Medusa." And then, the professor noticed it. The woman before him was completely still. No expansion of the lungs to show she was breathing... not a blink or a twitch. Even her equilibrium was completely still and Stein knew that was completely impossible: everyone was always moving at all time. He heard a chuckle behind him and quickly spun around, seeing nothing. Stein let out a heavy sigh, and turned back around, seeing that Medusa was gone. "Of course, bitch." He murmured and went over to the pile of papers.

Absently, the man ran his thumb through them, in a lazy inspection. Then paused. He did it once more, and stopped when he got at a certain page. He pulled it out and right when he saw it, he ripped it up. It was the hypothesis data page. It was in perfect order. Actually, all his pages were in perfect order and neat and tidy as if no one had touched them. But someone had, right? Medusa went through his stuff and gave him feedback. He closed his sleep-deprived eyes tightly, his hand that held the paper turning into a fist and ruining the crisp sheet. Stein let the item drop from his hand and then left the room. His oldest question came back: Is She Really Dead? But it was replaced by a new one: "Is She Really Real?". Was it even a She? An It? Was it himself? He felt his sanity slipping, remembering the events. He had touched her, and in more ways then one. It felt so real. It had to be real. He shook his head. Reality is defined in your head- had he imagined his own reality? And then it came: the split memories.

He remembered spending time with Medusa but then he also remembered just being by himself, doing research on his computer. He grit his death. Stein quickly went to his computer, checking files and documents. He checked when he had last saved them. His latest was saved at 5:28 AM today, and Stein could swear that at that time him and Medusa had been... "Damnit!" The man shouted, quickly turning his screw to calm himself. What was the truth? "Medusa... what are you doing to me?" Stein said aloud, knowing he would receive no answer. Little could he assume, and if he had imagination, he would have realized that tomorrow would be his doom.

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