Catalysts
(SoMa Week 2014)

Day Three
Insanity

She was completely gone.

Soul stared, open-mouthed and horrified, at the shell of his meister as she sat rocking herself in a ball in the corner of the hospital room. Her lips quirked with every few breaths and her eyes stared right through the medical chart hanging off the end of her bed. He could hear Stein muttering specifics and statistics behind him, telling him something about just what possibilities there were and the side effects of receiving such a bad dose of madness on her Grigori-pure soul, but the words went in one ear and out the other.

His heart clenched when her eyes flicked to the clear pane in the door, where he was looking straight at her, but she merely blinked at him a few times before laughing and shaking her head, whispering something over and over quietly.

"Just what the Hell did you do to her?" The words were meant to come out angry, but staring at her, he couldn't manage anything more than a weak exhale.

Stein's voice had never sounded so rock hard and unfeeling. "When she was sent in at the last moment to assist the first-year students in their battle, she took a madness spell from the traitor-witch controlling the set up. It caused mass hallucinations and although it seems as if they have finally ended, she has not been able to regain her sanity or control over her wavelength. We don't know how long she'll stay like this, but when Kim tried to heal her, she just began to scream again. No sort of magical influence will free her mind."

Maka stopped laughing and her eyes went wide, and suddenly she crawled into a ball. Seconds later, soft sobs worked their way out from the crack under the door and into Soul's ears like painful spikes. "What can we do to help her?" he ground out, his hand clenched on the doorknob.

"Well," Stein said after a moment's thought, "I had the theory that if she was exposed to your wavelength for long enough, she might be able to regain enough presence of mind for her Anti-Madness power to kick in. However, I don't know what the Black Blood might do to make the situation worse."

"Will she be in danger if I go in there, then?"

"Who can say?" the doctor replied infuriatingly, but he gave the Death Scythe's shoulder a nudge, indicating that he should enter. The two men entered the room warily, eyeing the girl in the corner, but she showed no indication of noticing their presence. Her crying continued, and she'd begun to shake.

Soul turned to look at the screw-head, but it appeared Stein had no bright ideas on what to do now they were in the same room. They may as well not have entered for all the attention they garnered. His stomach was feeling like an ocean and he couldn't help but restrain the urge to vomit when he watched his meister's weak and uncharacteristic actions.

She was so strong – how did this happen to someone like her?

He had no idea who the idiots were who'd screwed up their mission so badly that she'd needed to go in and assist – weapon-less, as he was still at a conference with the witches as a Death Scythe representative of Shibusen at the time – but as soon as he was satisfied she was better, he was going to hunt them down and figure out just how they could underestimate their mission so badly.

Never mind the fact that the exact same thing had happened to him and Maka all of those years ago, when Crona had sliced right through his chest. His hand came up to unconsciously nurse the scar on his torso as dark thoughts continued to manifest in his mind.

Maybe he wouldn't yell at the kids so much, especially if they were hurt – but Kid, now that was another matter. He'd been the one to let his headstrong little meister go flouncing off into the mouth of danger. She was incredible and any number of low-level tainted souls could be taken out with one of her infamous Maka-Chops alone, but not a rogue witch! Just what kind of shit did that damn Shinigami think he was pulling? Maka was precious to all of them in some way or another, and to send her into such a perilous situation without even assigning her with another weapon, like Tsubaki or someone she could use, no matter how much he hated the thought of her wielding someone else – !

"Soul, stop it," Stein said harshly, gripping his arm with enough force to make him wince. The black clouds in his soul cleared momentarily and he blinked, his attention captured by the demented giggling seeping through Maka's mouth. She'd stopped sobbing and now she was on her back, her arms spread wide as she chuckled. Her eyes were overflowing with tears and she looked like some sort of great pain was tearing her soul to shreds, but her mouth was stretched wide as she laughed at nothing. "Whatever you're thinking about, stop. It's affecting her wavelength."

His eyes widened and he bit his lip, ignoring the blood that bloomed on the soft skin because of it. To think that they were so connected even in this state that his foul anger would trigger a reaction in her . . . No matter how far gone she was, it seemed, their link couldn't be broken.

Her laughing stopped the moment he calmed down and her eyes rolled to them, making Soul freeze at the same time as his heartbeat. However, her gaze slid disinterestedly over him as if he wasn't even there and landed on the professor.

"Stein-hakase. Daijoubu ka?" she said calmly and almost politely.

"Is she speaking gibberish?" He gaped, but Stein merely frowned in confusion.

"No; it seems she's reverted to Japanese for some reason."

Fuck. He only knew about ten words of Japanese – he knew he should watch anime in subtitles instead of dubbing more often. His meister was half Japanese, and she often muttered words he didn't understand in her sleep.

"Why the Hell isn't she speaking English?"

"Doushite?"

"I have absolutely no idea; she is in the grip of insanity, after all. I wonder why she reacted to my voice rather than yours, though. One would think it would be the opposite way around."

For Death's sake, he sounded like he was talking about the weather.

"Why don't you go away?" Maka hissed, and he was forced to look at her once again. "I don't want to take my medicine right now, Professor." She rolled over as she spoke, staring at the wall and peeling at the paint as she did so.

Every tap of her nail made a dint in the plaster.

Stein's mouth flattened out grimly and he nodded once. "I'm going back outside. It's clear my presence here isn't welcome enough in this state, and if I remain she may become upset. Call me if you need anything."

"Wait – you're just going to leave me here with her?" Soul asked in surprise, watching the man exit.

"Yes. Your soul is bonded to hers more than anyone else on this entire planet. It might be better if you two are alone for a while."

The resounding echo of the heavy door closing filled him with an indescribable dread. Soul didn't want to turn back to the girl before him because she was making him uncomfortable. There was no way that was his partner, no matter what any evidence to the contrary said. He'd seen her go crazy before, but he'd been with her when it happened and he'd had some control over the situation. Their souls had been bonded and he'd been able to tell what she was planning as she went off the deep end.

This was completely different. Where her soul was usually calm and melodic, a gentle presence in his mind when he was on the verge of sleep, now it was a horrible piece of chaos where every part fought for the right to be played in forte. Every sound clashed and none of the instruments that made up her wavelength's song were tuned to each other, and he could only allow his soul to press against hers for a few seconds at best before the horrible sound and the cackles of the Oni invaded his brain and began to suck him down into the black pit.

This was bad, and that was the understatement of the year. What the Hell was he meant to do to get his stupid, headstrong, beloved Maka back?

Without turning around, he inhaled shakily. He should try talking to her or something. It might not work, but it would certainly help to calm him down a tad and therefore stop her getting any loopier than she already was.

"So, you've had a pretty shitty day, huh?" he managed weakly, his fists clenched and his words bitter. It was the kind of thing he'd say to her over a casual dinner on a Friday night, when tests had been gruelling and she'd look like she was minutes from sleep or death. Saying it now felt like a mockery.

When she didn't reply, he turned to glance at her. She was thankfully not chipping at the wall anymore, but sitting in a ball like the beginning. Her knees were tucked up to her chest and her bright green eyes watched him solemnly and silently, keeping track of every move he made.

He sighed. "Don't feel like talking, then? Come on, you gotta' say something to me eventually. And not in Japanese, either; you know I don't know that shit."

She continued to stare unnervingly, like a small child enraptured by a magic show. He met her gaze for what felt like less than a second before he had to break off and press his fists over his eyes. She just looked so empty –

No. He had to stay strong and do this for her. No matter how hard it was for him to stay calm and okay considering the situation and the way he broke whenever he took in her mournfully useless form for too long, he had to do this. For her. She'd do the same thing for him; she'd sit and talk to him for hours if it meant he had a chance at getting back to sanity again. Then again, when he'd lost it in Moscow, he'd managed to talk himself down by seeing through the ploys of the Oni in his head. As far as he knew, Maka was stuck inside her soul by herself, and she couldn't fight the instigator of the damage to her mind when the enemy and hero were one and the same.

If she couldn't fight herself enough, he'd do it for her. No matter what it took, no matter how much he broke, no matter the pull of insanity threatening his unsteady Black Blood.

After all, they were partners.

So he picked up the shreds of his cracking heart and wrapped up the worry in his stomach, folding it away into a tiny little ball as he made his face arrange a horrid mimicry of its usual careless smirk. His eyes bled sorrow but his mouth at least did not falter.

He'd always been good at faking it.

He made sure to give her a wide berth before he sunk onto the hospital bed, putting his feet up. "You would not believe how bad the conference was today. I had to suffer through a debate on the supremacy of witch-kind compared to 'idiotic male weapons who only think with their' . . . well, you get the idea. Looks like the Grand Court witch's met your pervy-ass father, hey?"

Soul didn't look at her to gauge her reaction. The deafening sound of her wavelength told him that she likely hadn't even heard a word he'd said. However, he pressed on. "Why do I gotta' keep going to these things anyway? Sure, Marie's off with her kid and Death Scythe's busy helping Kid with somethin' or another – but what about Asuza, or someone that ain't me?"

He continued uninterrupted for a while, rambling on and digressing about the usual problems he'd bitch about if she were actually paying attention, ignoring his heavy heart and the headache that was developing as a result of the constant noise. It was only once he'd reached the topic of Marie's child's weird eyes that he got his first response from her.

Throughout his entire monologue, she'd remained still and watched him. It was better than laughing and crying and rolling, but somewhat more eerie. Now, however, she gave out a quick exhale and leaned her head back against the wall with a heavy thunk. His eyes snapped to her instantly, thinking by the normal gesture that she might be starting to revert back to normal.

But what he saw was her bitter smile and the single tear that slipped out of her closed lids. When he continued to do nothing but watch her and wait desperately for some other sort of movement, she frowned.

"The music went away," she said, her nose wrinkling in the cute way she used to show displeasure.

"What music, airhead?" he replied, but it was apprehensive.

Maka smiled slightly at his voice and to his shock, answered him. Although, her response didn't make much sense. It seemed as if she were muttering to herself instead. "He's gone, gone, gone. But the music keeps playing. Where's it coming from? He's gone. He's gone, gone, gone."

"Who's gone?"

"He went away, I watched him go away – he ran away like they all do. He's gone, he's gone, and he's not coming back."

"Maka – what are you talking about?" he murmured, standing slowly. If she was giving him some sort of lead as to what was going on in her head, he'd take the bait. "Did you see someone go away?"

She scowled. "Stop teasing me – you know he's gone. I saw him."

"Who-"

"I saw him die."

He went stock still as the light tone disappeared, turning into a heavy breath of despair. She repeated herself twice, her head ducking further into her knees, and crying soon replaced her weird speech.

"He's dead, he's dead, he's dead."

Soul couldn't help it – he knew it might scare her if he got too near in this state, but he couldn't just watch her collapse like this. As far as he knew, neither of the junior students sent on the mission had died. The girl had been hurt pretty badly, but the male, the weapon, hadn't been hurt by much more than a large scrape sustained when he tried to pull his partner out of the way of a blast. If Maka thought she'd witnessed his death, it could be one of the factors setting her off. She'd blame herself, and when her mind was already hijacked by the madness spell, it would certainly trap her in a state of agonising guilt.

But just as he knelt and opened his mouth to comfort her somewhat, she fell to her side and tried to bury further into her foetal position, and her head began to shake so fast her loose pigtails tumbled out completely. She was still gasping words over and over, and this close, he could catch them.

"He's dead – Soul's dead. He died, he's gone, Soul's dead, he's gone, he died. Soul died, he's gone, he's not coming back, he died, he's dad, he's gone, he's . . ."

His outstretched hand snapped back to his side in midair.

She was trapped like this because she thought . . . he was dead?

And suddenly it clicked.

Stein had taught them a year ago about madness spells. They tended to target the worst fears of their victims and bring them into the light, making the poor inflicted person envision or experience their absolute nightmares, but with a realistic feeling impossible to shake off. Maka had been hit with one of these types of spells, so she would have seen whatever brought fear to her heart, whatever plagued her nightmares the most.

Apparently, the thing that scared her most . . . was being left without him.

All of his common sense cried out at him not to do it, but there was no other choice. In one movement he reached out and put his hands on Maka's shoulders, ignoring when she stiffened completely, and sat her up. He pulled her close to him and rested his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her to sit half on his lap as he held her. One hand came up tentatively to stroke her hair, and without thinking he whispered quietly into her ear.

"I'm not dead, I'm here. See, it's all okay, I'm right here. Don't worry, Maka, nothing's going to take me away, I'm right here."

Somewhere in between his quiet nothings, the angry sound from her wavelength mellowed into a quieter, mournful tune.

Somewhere between the beats of his very-much-alive heart, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her face buried into his neck.

And as she began to shake in earnest, breathing heavily as the after effects of insanity hit her like a wave, he simply tightened his grip and continued to murmur in her ear.

Because even if it was hard to stay calm.

Even if the Oni cackled behind his ears.

Even if he broke.

No matter how much it hurt.

He'd always be here to bring her back and put her together again.

Even if.

No matter what.

I think this is my first ever story with no line breaks. Sorry it's a bit late (if it is, wherever you're reading it, whatever country, time zones ugh).