A/N: I'm sending out huge thank you hugs to all the people who are taking the time to read this. Extra big thanks go to the people who are giving even more of their time to leave a review. As always, if you have a thought or suggestion, I'd love to hear it! Individual review responses are at the end of the chapter.

CHAPTER 4

Maka closed her Death Room portal and shook her hands vigorously. The flow of magic through them itched something fierce; like an electric shock running into each fingertip. Kid said it would stop after she'd used the power long enough, but it hadn't abated yet, and she wondered how long "long enough" was. Kid's sense of time wasn't nearly as skewed as his father's, but he was still a Reaper, and he didn't think of a year or two the way the average person did.

Still wiggling her fingers, Maka wrinkled her nose in distaste at her reflection in the mirror. She was a mess. It was going to take some serious time to get herself decently clean, let alone ready for a date. A streaky mix of sweat, sunscreen, and sand coated her skin, and the less said about her hair, the better. When she pulled the latter from its ponytail, she did it with her head hanging out of her bedroom window so the resulting sand shower wouldn't end up on her floor. They lived in a student apartment building in eccentric Old Town, so she was sure the neighbors had seen weirder things. Leaning a little further over the sill, she gave her scalp an energetic scrub, which loosened up the remaining sand while dissipating the zinging in her hands at the same time. Maka was all for multitasking.

With that part of what she'd come to think of as her decontamination process complete, she headed to the kitchen for some water to stave off the headache building behind her eyes. Some wheatgrass juice and vitamins wouldn't do her any harm, either. Then she'd check over and revise the day's progress notes while trying to work up enough energy to hit the shower. Mulling over possible variable changes that she might try during practice the next day, she yanked open her bedroom door and nearly scared her partner to death.

"Jesus!" Soul exclaimed, dropping his Playstation controller, "Where the hell did you come from?"

"The same place I always come from when you ask that question," she replied, as the blue plastic device skidded across the tile toward her.

"I will never," he said, grabbing his chest dramatically, "get used to you being able to walk through the fucking walls."

"I walk through the mirrors," she reminded him smugly, bending to retrieve the controller, "And I don't hear you complaining when it gets you places faster."

"I never said it was inconvenient. Just freaky. You could at least yell and tell me you're back so I won't have a stroke when you come flying out of nowhere."

She nodded at the TV, "Like you'd have heard me over that thing. Why are you playing games right now anyway? Aren't you supposed to be beautifying yourself for your jazz thingy?"

Soul pointed at the clean clothes he'd piled on the coffee table, "I was getting ready to. Just needed to sit down for a minute."

He eyed her critically and then suggested that sitting down once in a while might do her some good, too. Maka made a face at him and went to get her water.

"And get sand and sweat all over the couch like you're doing?" she asked, opening the cabinet next to the refrigerator, "Couldn't you sit on the upholstery after you shower? Boys are so gross. At least I sit in my desk chair, and it wipes off."

Soul looked very put-upon as he turned the TV off, "Fine. I'll go now. Unless you want to go first."

Maka shook her head, "No, you go ahead. I have some work to do before Kid comes over."

She padded back into her room and settled herself at her desk with her notes. The sight of them made her headache a little worse, and she decided that it wouldn't hurt to take a peek at her email before she got down to work. She'd sent her mother a note earlier in the day and felt a jolt of excitement when she saw that Kami had responded. Her mother's communications, usually in the form of postcards and the occasional letter, had suddenly changed a month ago when an email address appeared out of the blue on a little slip of folded paper her father had given her.

Maka was sure there was a good reason that she'd never had a phone number for her mother, and that her letters got to Kami through some kind of mail drop that Spirit handled. When she'd gotten the address, Maka had been a little tempted to see if she could backtrack the IP address and find out what part of the world the emails were coming from, but she was sure that DWMA security protocols were far too smart for that. Besides, she respected the rules and her mother's privacy too much to do it.

Whatever the reason, she was glad modern technology had finally made its way into their relationship. It made her mother seem more present. More real. Letters felt very formal, and Maka usually stuck to basic facts in them. Mainly facts about school, training, and how annoying her father was. Sometimes she sought advice on how to achieve more strength or improve a technique, but she never let loose about personal things like she did in her emails.

In a virtual environment, she felt free to share the little particulars about her life that she was sure Kami longed for. She could chat about what to do with her hair (she'd decided to leave it long), or a new recipe that she'd tried (it was disgusting, and Soul had threatened her with bodily harm if she ever tried to substitute cauliflower for rice again.). Best of all, she'd finally been able to confide the wonders of being in love. The email that her mother had just responded to with such pleasing promptness had detailed a drive up the California coast, and the romance of watching whales breach in the San Francisco Bay with Kid. Well, mostly detailed, anyway. She'd discreetly left out the part that involved partial nudity and the hood of Kid's car. She was sure Kami couldn't wait to weigh in with girl talk and a little motherly dating advice. Maka opened her mother's message with anticipation, but its contents quickly dulled the sparkle in her eyes and chased the flush from her cheeks. It wasn't what she'd been expecting at all.

Maka,

I've noticed that your boyfriend and other trivial things seem to be taking up more of your letters, and I've got to say I'm disappointed. I know you think you're in love, dear, but I hate to see you spending so much of your time and mental resources on a boy, especially Kid. There are things about Reapers you don't know, Maka, but my biggest concern is for your success. I want you to feel that coming from your own accomplishments, not from having a boyfriend. That bond you created with him is a serious thing, and I don't want your relationship to become any more intense than it already is. I'm afraid you're going to end up hurt, and in more ways than one. I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to hear, but I want you to think about what I've said. I know I can count on you to make the right choice.

Love always,

Mama

The words were like a punch to the gut, and Maka slumped under their impact. She'd never known that her mother disapproved of her boyfriend, let alone how deeply that disapproval went. Adrenaline shot through her with a zing almost as sharp as Reaper magic and doubt carved an immediate and insidious path through Maka's thoughts. Was she too involved with Kid? Could that be why she couldn't make the new technique work? They'd made a solemn promise to themselves and each other not to put their relationship ahead of their duties, but was she breaking that oath without realizing it? She sat back in her chair, hands tented over her mouth, thinking so hard that the headache she'd been fighting off bloomed into stupendous life

She honestly didn't see how she could work any harder. The time she and Kid spent alone didn't take away from her homework, or on the prep for her resonance team, or the development of their new technique. As for practices, she could only work her friends so hard. The Soul Bomb attempts in addition to regular practices meant they were already doing double duty, and nobody did a good job when they were too exhausted. She'd upped her personal training as much as she could without cutting too deeply into her study time or her sleep. And her mother didn't know how much better Maka slept with Kid's body curled around hers in his big soft bed. His warmth and protection gave her peace that the fluffy pink quilt on her own narrow bed could never match. On days when she'd worked out until she could barely move he ran her hot Epsom salt baths and rubbed her aching muscles. When they quizzed each other on homework, it made learning even easier. Especially when they rewarded themselves for correct answers with kisses. Challenging each other on discussion topics made thinking clearer and provided them with alternate points of view. Kami certainly didn't know how Maka's tension drained away after Kid made love to her. Or about the little bursts of joy that happened when she felt his eyes on her across a room and knew how adored she was. Maka was replenished and renewed by giving her love, felt secure and safe in the warmth of her bond with Kid. It could never hurt her….could it?

Panic rose, and she wondered if he was back yet. She needed to talk to him about this; get his perspective. More than that, she needed to feel his arms around her, soothing her until she could think straight again. Or was this precisely the kind of neediness her mother was warning her about? Wildly confused, she grabbed her notebook, opened up her mirror, and dashed through it. For once, she completely ignored the prickling in her fingers.

RESPONSES!

book-thot: With encouragement like that, I'll definitely keep writing 3

DJKatt: I'm sorry you lost some sleep but grateful that you liked this chapter. It's hard to find that thin line between "complicated" and "bad" in Kid's relationship with his father. Poor Lord Death is spread so thin and is so very clueless about some things.

Arantir: I'm so glad you liked Life Lessons, and it feels great to be back and working on this sequel!