He had a definite sense of déjà vu as he awoke to throbbing pain and the smell of antiseptic. His whole body hurt, and his mind felt hazy and stuffed with cotton. Soul might have wondered if this was a dream, a memory of three years ago, only the pain in his gut and his memories of their fight with Crona and Arachne were far too acute, too real to mistake where he was and why. And unlike three years ago, there was no warm soft hand clutching his, no concerned green eyes hovering near. There was no Maka.

There was no Maka.

Panic seized him, clawing at his soul as he bolted up to look around frantically, his head swimming at the sudden move.

His heart raced, the monitor attached to him going haywire until his eyes fell on the medical bed next to him, fell on a spread of ash blond hair on the pillow beneath a battered, achingly familiar face sleeping peacefully, and he collapsed back onto his own pillow, sighing with relief.

"You know, if you do that, you're going to bring half the world in here, and personally, I'd prefer not to deal with a crowd just because you can't handle thirty seconds without your girl," a droll voice spoke from across the room, and Soul turned his head to see a figure he hadn't noticed before. A vaguely familiar figure, tall, with hair in a spiky ponytail, and wearing dark glasses.

What the fuck was this asshole doing in his hospital room?

"You should talk," Soul grunted, and his voice was shockingly hoarse. "Didn't think you went anywhere without your lover. Thought the two of you were sewn together at the fucking dick."

Harvar snorted. "Ox is busy, and believe it or not, being friends and colleagues doesn't actually require our dicks to be sewn together, though Stein might enjoy the challenge."

"What're you here for, anyway? Don't you have test subjects to torment?"

A half shrug and a held out hand, as electricity sparked between the other man's fingers. "Babysitting. Higher ups seem to think the Weapon isn't trustworthy. Can't imagine why."

Soul rolled his eyes. "Whatever." His ire couldn't last, though, as Maka stayed still in the other bed. "Hey," he said just loudly enough for the other man to hear. "She gonna be okay?"

He never got his answer as the door suddenly burst open and two women bustled into the room. "I got a signal the alarm went off, which-" The shorter one, with bubblegum pink hair of all things, looked around quickly, her eyes settling on Soul for a few moments before they shifted to Harvar, seated placidly in an ugly green office chair near the door. "I thought I told you to inform me the moment either of them woke up."

Harvar shrugged, seemed to be looking past the woman standing near him to settle his gaze on Soul, though it wasn't quite clear through his perpetually dark glasses. "Told you," he sighed before turning his gaze to the woman before him. "I was getting around to it. I'm gonna take a break." He stood, nodded towards the taller woman with dark hair who stood quietly near her companion. "Jaq can handle it if he makes trouble, but I seriously doubt he will. He's not gonna do shit with his girl next to him." With that, the man shoved his hands in his pockets and slunk out the door, leaving Soul with the two women.

The shorter woman bustled over to him, looking him up and down for a moment with calculating blue-green eyes. "You woke up far before I expected. You must be pretty resilient. Of course, last time, it took a lot longer."

"Last… time?" He was sure he looked confused, because he'd never seen this woman before.

"When you nearly got burned in half by your girlfriend?" She raised her eyebrows as she looked down at him.

"Oh, yeah-" he groaned, looking sheepish because he didn't remember her, didn't really remember anything before he'd been moved to the hospital, though Maka had told him he'd first spent time at the lab, and Ox and Harvar and Stein had all confirmed it with their shit talk.

"Annnnyway," the woman said, her mouth flattening, her manner suddenly no nonsense. "We should really have a look at you, see how your healing is progressing. That was quite the blow you took to the lower abdomen-not as bad as what the Meister did, mind, so I'm pretty sure I can avoid scarring this time, but you're one hearty guy." She peeled his blanket back as she talked, and he forced himself not to stop her as she began to poke at him in a way that seemed random and even haphazard to his untrained eye. Behind her, the tall brunette remained standing, hands stiffly at her sides, observing.

Then the woman examining him lifted his hospital johnny and he yelped out "Hey!" and pushed it down. She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a baby-I need to have a look. Not like I haven't seen it, and it's not like it's anything special to look at. I've seen better."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Soul rolled his own eyes but removed his hand. Fuck, he hated doctors, hospitals, nurses-strangers touching and poking and prodding him in general. She pulled the hideous lime green johnny up to his neck, but left the blanket mercifully resting at his hips, just above the point where he might be fully exposed to the world.

"Actually." She frowned as she touched his abdomen tentatively, her eyes sweeping over his torso to land just beside his neck. "I need you to take it off. I forgot about that shoulder. Can you manage or should I-"

"Yeah, whatever, I got it," he snapped and sat up, trying and failing to suppress a grimace of pain at the movement. The dark haired woman glided over at this and when her hands drifted behind him he glared at her, but she shrugged slightly.

"You'll need it untied, unless you care to reach behind you. I do not recommend this."

Soul only shrugged his good shoulder in response and she reached back and untied his gown in one deft motion. He pulled it back from his shoulders and tossed it at her haphazardly, but if she was bothered, she didn't react.

"You know." The other woman raised one odd pink eyebrow. "You could show a bit more gratitude to the people who helped saved your life."

He felt a little bad at that, if only just a little. And then he realized that they had probably saved Maka's life as well, and the remorse was real.

"Yeah, uh, thanks," he said, sheepish again, eyes looking past her to the blank wall.

"Mmmm," she hummed her response as her deft hands explored his abdomen again. And then she placed them flat on his gut, lightly, and he felt warm.

"What the-?" he exclaimed, surprised by the soft light coming from her hands, by her look of utter concentration, by the warmth and complete peace washing through him in waves.

"Shh-she's helping you. Kim's a healer. Be grateful-she normally doesn't waste her talents on villains."

Soul didn't bother to answer, though he did let her work. When she removed her hands, his abdomen still hurt, but the hurt was less, and he felt less tired. Then she moved her hands to his shoulder and repeated the action. As she worked, eyes closed in concentration this time, his own eyes moved to the woman with her. "So, um-how's Maka? I-I mean she-" Because she had gotten hurt, badly, and while she was clearly alive, he wanted, no, needed to know she was going to be okay in the end.

"She took some hard blows, got pretty singed," the tall brunette said with a flick of her eyes to the other bed. "But she's fine. Her body just needs time to recuperate. Stein and Kim both think she'll wake up soon." She paused and pursed her lips. "Though what that means for you." She looked his way pointedly. "Is difficult to say."

Soul sighed. "Yeah, I know she's pissed."

The woman just nodded, and Kim removed her hands, inspecting where she'd just been healing him. Satisfied, she gave her own little nod before turning her eyes to her companion.

"You really should spare him the gory details-he'll be dealing with it all soon enough, Jackie. Last thing I need is for him to end up with heart failure from pure anxiety."

"What are you-" he asked, confused, heart suddenly racing in panic.

He saw the tall woman, Jackie apparently, roll her eyes at her fellow. "Oh, like that didn't just cause him anxiety." She stepped closer, looked down at him. "Calm down. You're fine, she's fine, and no sense worrying over anything else. You need to rest to heal, and this won't help."

"What-what happened?" he forced out, trying to will his racing heart to calm. Had Maka been awake? What had she said? Or was there more. Oh fuck-what was the League going to do? He had nearly forgotten that part, his brain was so bleary.

Jackie sighed, exchanging a silent glance with her companion that ended with a little shrug. "When they brought you both in, the Grigori was conscious. Delirious, but conscious. She babbled a lot about what had happened before we were forced to medically induce a coma so that she could calm down and heal-apparently, Arachne's touch is difficult on both body and mind in the best circumstances, and Maka was very injured. When she spoke, her fear for you was primary, but she was also pretty angry with you. You can hardly blame her-she put a lot on the line to keep you out of trouble, and in the end, you didn't keep your promise."

God damnit, did everyone know their fucking life story?

"Oh, I don't know, Jackie," Kim said casually, grinning down at him. "I think what he did was really romantic. Stupid, yeah, but romantic. I mean, to throw himself in front of her like that, not once but twice?" she sighed almost longingly.

Ignoring her lovesick schoolgirl look, he shook his head. "How the fuck do you people know all this?" he growled.

"Oh, that." Kim shrugged. "Once you all were out, between victims to testify, his own contacts, and Mifune, Mortimer had enough to get a warrant to search the place. The room you two stumbled into was the leader's private audience chamber, and there were cameras everywhere. It's all on tape if you're ever curious. It really was quite the show."

Soul groaned. So all of that-their entire ordeal-was evidence open to the viewing pleasure of every League asshole? Wait-evidence-and they had used names… He went pale, felt sick. "How many people saw-I mean-where?"

"Oh, don't worry." Kim waved a dismissive hand. "Only a few of us were privy to it, and the tape is in League possession-your secrets are safe with, oh, about a dozen of us." She grinned smugly.

"Great, I feel so much better," he said flatly.

"Kim, don't taunt the poor boy, hasn't he dealt with enough?" Jackie put her hand on the other woman's shoulder, and she shrugged it off.

"Oh come on! Even you have to be wondering what she's gonna do when she wakes up. Not that it matters, because loverboy here is pretty much screwed. Violating your pardon agreement was a huuuuge no no." She smiled down at him. "Though it was sweet how you tried to protect her."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will down his irritation and the growing knot in the pit of his stomach. Kim had backed off and was now hovering over Maka as Jackie stood nearby, arms crossed over her chest, face blank once more.

Finally, after several minutes and more eerie light, Kim walked over to sit in the chair by the door, Jackie standing stiffly at her side. They stayed there, chatting quietly, mostly about him and Maka from what Soul could tell, for a few minutes before he cleared his throat. "Don't you two-have other things to do?" he asked, voice carefully bored.

"Yes," Jackie said immediately. "But unfortunately, until Harvar or someone else capable returns, you still need a guard."

"And you think you can manage that?" he challenged automatically, his old self resurfacing.

She shrugged slightly, held out a hand, and a ball of white hot fire appeared in her palm. "I'm sure I can," she replied, and there was no arrogance in her tone, only cold hard fact. "I don't enjoy fighting-it's why I work with Kim in the medical wing cauterizing wounds-but I can do it when I must. I don't suggest you test it, especially not in your condition."

"Right," he said with a sigh, sinking back into his pillows. He hadn't been planning on it, but all of this scrutiny on top of the pain and the haziness was grating on his long fraying nerves. He needed Maka to wake up-needed out of here-needed air. Something.

Although he clearly wasn't getting any of that any time soon.

The door swung open again, startling him slightly, and he stifled his half dozenth groan since he'd awoken as Spirit fucking Albarn appeared in the frame, Stein at his shoulder.

Fucking perfect.

"You done?" He glanced down at Kim.

"Yeah, I-"

"Good, you two are dismissed. Now." The command in his voice was so new that Soul started. So this was what made him Death Scythe. Kim and Jackie hurried past, clearly knowing when they weren't wanted or welcome, which left him with a frowning Spirit and a Stein who was smiling far too knowingly for Soul's liking as they both approached his bed slowly.

Whatever their purpose-and they clearly had one-it was destroyed as the door was flung open with a loud shout of "Your god has arrived!" and Black Star hurried into the room, trailed closely by a tall, dark haired beauty with a decidedly Asian cast to her features. Kyle Mortimer wasn't far behind her, and a pair of blonde bombshells strode in his wake, one quite tall. They had the same blue eyes and similar features-Soul recognized the shorter one as Patti from the infiltration, which must have made the taller woman Liz.

They all surrounded his bed eagerly, relegating Spirit and Stein to a corner of the room as the group looked down on Soul.

"Heard you woke up, Soul bro, and figured I should bless you with my presence. Then these losers decided they just had to see how you were doing, too-"

"Black Star," the dark haired beauty reprimanded mildly from his side. They were standing to the left side of the bed, with the sisters at the right, and Kid at the foot. He felt a bit overwhelmed by the sheer press of humanity surrounding him.

"Oh, right! We did it, dude-got everyone out-this is my goddess Tsubaki! But not only that. We fucked up their shit hard core, dude! Me 'n Pat found this crazy machine, see, and those spider bastards were watching that shit like a hawk-so we decided to have a little fun with them. Kicked the crap outta the douche squad-Pat here has deadly aim and a left hook that'd make yo momma weep, totally worthy minion for my divinity-and then, we blew that fucker up! I mean boom! Fucking-"

Kid cleared his throat, causing his one time would-be assassin to glare his way, but when Tsubaki put a hand to his shoulder to squeeze lightly, Black Star smiled sheepishly and rubbed a hand through his garish blue hair.

"So, yeah, while Pat and me were wreckin' the joint, Liz and Mifune found the girls and a few others and led them out a back way while all hell was breaking loose-cause we weren't the only ones fucking busy, am I right?"

"Uhhh..." Soul shook his head, too sluggish to deal with the other man's exuberance just then.

"In any case," Kid cut in smoothly. "Black Star is correct-the mission was definitely a success. Not only did we achieve the primary objective of retrieving the hostages, but Black Star and Patricia were able to destroy the machine they had been constructing as a means of mass domination, and you and Maka managed to take out their leader. I have enough now to ensure the rest see jail time-the entire operation was more than I could have hoped for, and I wanted to thank you personally for your part in it."

"You saw the tape," Soul said, rubbing his temples.

"Of course."

"So you all know about me, about Maka, about-everything," he pressed, the cotton in his head becoming a dull throb. Because fuck.

"Well, yes," Kid said mildly. "I have become aware that Maka is the Grigori and was once the Meister. And of course, I know you were the Weapon. I must say, I was surprised to learn of Maka's double life and all that occurred involving you, but she always was a fighter and a kind heart, so I suppose I might have guessed. In any case, it isn't every day you discover such truths about one of your closest friends, and-"

"As lovely as all this is," Soul cut him off, "I really don't feel like listening to the guy who's gonna put me in jail blather on about-"

"Excuse me?" Kid interrupted, puzzled. "But why ever would I put you in jail? Especially considering the service you've just done me?"

"Um, I don't know, the Weapon thing maybe?"

The odd dark haired man offered another dismissive sweep of the hand. "Not my jurisdiction. That's a League matter."

"Oh." Because that made it better. He was reminded of Stein and Spirit and glanced over to see them waiting impatiently on the other side of the room.

Soul suddenly found he'd much prefer to prolong his time with the fucking welcome wagon.

"Alright, so you know about me and Maka and all the shit that went down with that Arachne bitch-what the fuck is this about a machine?" His asking was one part curiosity and two parts stall tactic, but he really did want to know what else had happened.

"Aw, man, the thing was sick!" Black Star shouted. "Steel and wires and glowing shit everywhere-but we took care of business."

"Riiiight?" Patti added from across the bed, and they high fived over his chest, much to his chagrin. "I took those bastards down-kneecaps and shit-and Star was all over everything. We tore shit up! You totally missed out!"

Liz rolled her eyes visibly, the first time she'd done much. "Patti, you weren't supposed supposed to be tearing anything up. You were supposed to be sticking to the plan."

"Pshaw, sis, you know that thing had to go. Even Kiddo said we did good." She clapped her sister hard on the back, and Liz winced.

"Yeah, yeah, fine, you did alright. Next time just-listen, okay?" The fond exasperation reminded Soul, oddly, of years ago, of his own brother he hadn't seen or spoken to in almost a decade, and he felt his heart tighten in his chest as he wondered how he was doing. He probably wouldn't get the chance to find out after this.

"Maaaaybe," Patti said with a smile that was more wicked than mischievous, and Soul suddenly remembered that these two near strangers seemingly also now knew all about him and Maka, but before he could process that enough to voice the concern that began to shadow his thoughts, Kid was speaking again.

"In any case, the device in question was something the organization had dubbed a 'Moral Manipulation Machine.' It was designed to commandeer portable phone frequencies in order to alter brain waves and make the people affected far more pliable and open to suggestion. It was the plot that I knew existed but could catch no real details about-but now, it's been foiled, the machine and the plans both destroyed. As I said, the operation was more successful that I could have possibly imagined."

"That's-uh-great, I guess," Soul managed. Because it wasn't like he had actually wanted to go off saving the city, but the thing did sound like a royal pain in the ass. Hell, he'd probably have been happy to help smash it to bits even back when he was the Weapon, so it he supposed he should be happy about it, even if it was pretty damned hard to be happy when your life was about to go to shit. He felt like he might vomit. Fuck.

"Well," a voice suddenly spoke from across the room. A cruel, sadistic voice Soul had come to know too well. Mother fucking Stein. "As-touching-as all this has been, visiting hours are over, so if you all wouldn't mind?"

"Yes, of course." Kyle Mortimer turned to the two men standing across from them. "We can continue tomorrow. I owe Mr. Evans a debt of gratitude for his involvement in this, and as Maka is a friend, I would like to assure both of them recover."

Stein nodded with a sardonic little smile. "Oh, yes, they'll recover-I can assure you of that."

"Good then. Well, goodbye, Soul. I will visit tomorrow to check up on you-I'm certain you must have more questions, and I would be more than happy to answer them given everything that's occurred."

Soul nodded, swallowing. Fuck. It was about to go to hell in some white walled shithole of a windowless room. He couldn't even focus on the crowd swarming over him for the sickness in how heart and in his head; even the pain was nothing compared to the feeling of dread washing over him in waves.

Suddenly, there were other goodbyes, other promises to be back tomorrow, a fist bump from Star and then Patti, a pat on the uninjured shoulder from Liz, who told him, unaccountably, how glad she was to see him again, and then only the dark haired woman who Blake had introduced as Tsubaki was left, looking down at him with concern.

"I wanted to thank you-for everything. You, and of course Maka when she wakes up. I don't know everything, but I can tell she loves you and-and if you ever need anything, you can count on my help. And Star's."

"I-" Soul managed through his dread. "Thanks, that's-I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks." she said with a smile. It was radiant, lighting up her face like the evening star lit the night sky, and Soul could see why even a prick like Star might be calm around such perfect serenity. He felt a little calmer himself, even as Stein cleared his throat and Tsubaki bowed and then left the room behind the others.

And then... then he was alone with the dynamic duo.

Fuck fuck fuck.

"So, Mr. Evans." Stein sauntered over, his sardonic little smile widening. "It would seem you violated your agreement with the League by ceasing your medication. Most disappointing."

That maniacal grin looked anything but disappointed, and Soul had to stifle the urge to deck the sadistic bastard. He tried to remind himself that this asshole's Tech was what had allowed him to help Maka for his time as Eater, but it was hard to count that as a positive when he remembered all the bullshit the dick had put him through to get that Tech in the first place, hard not to hate him when everything was going to hell.

"Yeah, I didn't take those idiot fucking pills. But I wasn't using my damn powers either," he bit out, knowing the defense meant little but desperate to try, to do whatever he had to not to be taken away from Maka. Fuck. If she even wanted him anymore. Those two girls had made it clear she was pissed.

"Oh, I beg to differ," Stein said casually. "You see, the footage from Arachne's sanctuary showed you taking full metallic form only two nights ago."

Ah, yes. The damned footage. Fucking Arachnophobia. So maybe he was screwed, but he wasn't going to let his fuck up hurt anyone else. Aside from which, he'd gladly do it all over again, because in the end, he'd kept Maka alive and that was all that mattered.

"Alright, yes, I fucking used my powers when I had no fucking choice, you're right. The Tech was burnt to a useless crisp-nice job making it resistant to high heat by the way-and it was either use my powers or we both die. I used my powers. So if the League wants to fuck me over for it, fine, whatever. I was the fucking Weapon, the world is well fucking aware at this point it seems, I deserve whatever shit sandwhich you assholes decide shove down my throat." He took a deep, calming breath. "Just-make sure you leave Maka out of it, okay? She had no idea and no involvement."

"Ah, but she was tasked with keeping you in line-she agreed to it when she pleaded for your life. That makes her just as culpable as you."

Soul went pale, his heart dropping. "No, wait, you don't-" he stammered. Fuck this. Fuck this, they weren't going to drag her down with him, he'd-

He heard a heavy sigh and noticed that Spirit was standing near Maka's bed. "Stop toying with the kid, Stein," he said, voice bored. He moved over to the other side of Soul's bed and looked down. "Maka's going to be fine, you have my word. Our concern here today is you."

The breath of relief he pushed through his lips was obvious, but he didn't care. At least Maka's dad would take care of her. The old lech must be having a party inside about all of this.

"Thanks." Soul nodded. "Guess my ass being thrown into chains for life is enough thanks for you though, right Death Scythe? You've been dying to get me away from Maka since you met me, even before all the Weapon shit. Fucking great day for you this must be."

Spirit shrugged. "I admit I never much liked you, kid. Never much liked any punk who thought he deserved my daughter, especially didn't need some ex-villain asshole sniffing around her. If you ever have a daughter of your own you might get that."

"Well, lucky you, I'm never gonna get that chance. So what's it gonna be anyway? How do you League pricks handle vile scum like me? The rack? Disembowelment? What?"

Stein rolled his eyes. "While all that sounds absolutely intriguing, actually, the League tends to frown upon torture. Generally, true villains, those who are Specials or deemed particularly dangerous, are put on trial and, once found guilty, sent to the Dungeon, a high security facility designed especially for the particularly deranged and dangerous. Not a pleasant existence, so I hear." He smiled viciously, turning the screw lodged in his skull, and Soul shuddered involuntarily, whether in disgust at the creep in front of him or trepidation at his impending fate, he couldn't rightly have said.

"Alright, so I'm gonna go on trial. I get to call a lawyer or some shit?" He wasn't going to go down without a fight, fuck it.

"If you'd like, though I hardly think that's necessary in this case, wouldn't you say, Spirit?" Stein looked thoughtful.

"Mmm-yeah, be a waste. Don't bother, kid."

"Shyeah, like I'm just gonna roll over," Soul bit out.

"You fucked up," Spirit's eyes narrowed. "Do you really want to drag this out, drag Maka through the mud with you?"

And fuck-fuck-that was it, wasn't it? Death Scythe had him by the nuts and he fucking knew it, knew his god damn weakness and played it like a finely tuned instrument.

"Fuck you," he growled. "You know I'd never-" he put his head in his hands. "Fine, fine, whatever. I plead guilty. I was the fucking Weapon; I'm a right bastard who fucked up his amnesty agreement because I'm an idiot, because the woman I love means more to me than my own pathetic fucking life. So you know what?" He looked up, his own eyes narrowed. "Fine, great, chain me and take me the hell away. Because you're probably right, Maka will be off better without me, and shit, I doubt she wants me anymore anyway. So yeah, you fucking win. Go throw a party and leave me the hell alone, would you?

Spirit and Stein exchanged a look Soul couldn't read, then Spirit said, tone bored, "You done?"

"Fuck, yes, will you go the fuck away?"

"Sure," he said, punctuating it with a half shrug. "But if I do, you're not going to hear the League's decision."

"Didn't you just fucking tell me they were going to try me and throw my ass into this Dungeon shithole?" he bellowed his frustration.

"Noooo," Stein cut in with a knowing smile. "We told you that villains are typically tried and sent to the Dungeon."

"And I'm a villain, yeah, got it. But fine, you wanna be pricks? Whatever it takes to end this. Please do enlighten me-what just and wise decision has your League of assholes come to?"

"Tsk, tsk," Stein said. "Hardly wise to sling names at those who hold your life in their hands, I think, but very well." His eyes moved to Spirit. "Would you like to tell him, or shall I?"

Spirit pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "I suppose I owe it to Maka to be the one to break the news. Alright, then." The man straightened, brushed invisible dust from his dark suit jacket, and looked Soul squarely in the face, expression blank.

"Soul Evans, once known as the Weapon, later known as Soul Eater, it is the judgement of the high council of the League of Heroes, taking into consideration all of your past actions, your amnesty agreement and subsequent violation, and recent events, that you are hereby declared a probationary member of the League, subject to a vote in six months to determine your final status. During your probation, you will serve the public good under the guidance of the acting hero known as the Grigori, and you will report to council member Death Scythe. You may, as an acting hero, use your inborn special powers in the service of the greater good, but not for your own gain or profit. As a probationary member, you will remain unfunded, but when and if your probation period should end, the League will provide a stipend to aid in your endeavours."

Soul blinked as Death Scythe rattled off what sounded like a script, trying to make sense of the words, of their meaning. "What now?" he managed, his voice too high.

Spirit sighed. "You're off the hook. The League saw the footage and decided you'd be an asset, that by risking your life to defend the Grigori, you'd redeemed your worthless ass. So we're offering you membership, provided you don't screw up your probationary period. You're not gonna screw up, are you?"

"Um, no-I wasn't-" Soul shook his head. "I mean, yeah, no-"

"Good. I saw the tape. Maybe I don't get it, but my daughter loves you-and what's more important, you clearly love her enough to sacrifice yourself for her. I don't have to like you to respect that. Maybe you don't deserve her, but nobody deserves her. Guess I can settle for a punk ex-villain being with my baby girl if he's willing to go to jail without a whimper for her, willing to die for her. Plus, you handled yourself pretty well in the fight with Arachne." Spirit actually smiled then, and it was genuine and reminded him achingly of Maka for the barest instant. He reached a hand down to squeeze Soul's shoulder. "You done good, kid. Just don't fuck it up, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," he said quietly, marvelling at the impossible turn of events, stunned. Him? A hero? He was tempted to pinch himself if it wouldn't have looked totally uncool and borderline insane.

His thoughts were interrupted by Stein, who cleared his throat. "The League has seen fit to outfit you with Tech. While the suit designed for you as Eater was-well, maimed wouldn't be far off-it is impractical to use with your powers active in any case. Actually, it's fascinating you were able to maintain both simultaneously at all, you really do produce phenomenal amounts of energy-" Spirit cleared his own throat, and Stein waved a hand. "But I digress. We've been able to design some anti gravity boots, similar to those Death Scythe used to wear, that will allow you to fly without overly draining your reserves. We'll need to test them, of course-" his glasses glinted evilly, his grin making Soul shudder "-but I believe they will function well, and given Maka's mobility, it behooves her partner to be similarly mobile."

Hero. Flight. Maka as his partner. His head felt light, like it might float off his shoulders. It wasn't possible. Had he died and, what, this was his heaven? Was he in a coma, dreaming his wildest fantasy?

If that was it, he supposed he couldn't do shit about it. May as well enjoy it while it lasted. Soul was rocked from his thoughts again as he felt something heavy fall across his legs and looked down, spotting a thick soft cover book in his lap.

"What the fuck-?" he began, but Stein shrugged.

"Official handbook, you'll want to read it through. Any questions?"

Uhhh-questions? He had a million-he had none-his mind too floaty, too in awe, for rational thought. Could anything be wrong with the world?

Oh, right. Yeah. Maka was pissed, but that wasn't actually a question. He continued to stare, face blank. Spirit had turned his back to check on Maka, and Stein was looking a bit impatient, as he had when the mod squad was there earlier.

Wait. Mod squad-right. Patti and Liz and Kid and the whole fucking world knew who they were. His elation dampened a little, if only just a little.

"Kid's contacts-they know who we are. What about-"

"Elizabeth and Patricia Thompson have performed an invaluable service for the League in helping deal with Arachnophobia, and have been key in Kyle Mortimer's investigation," Stein said, sounding bored. "As they are both Specials-"

"Both-Specials?" Soul questioned, surprised.

"That's right," Stein answered languidly. "Patricia has enhanced senses and reflexes, and Elizabeth has mild powers of the mind-she can use them to sway others. Quite useful. They'll be working closely with Kid, going on assignments and protecting him."

"Oh-that's. That's good," Soul said with a small nod. So it was-okay? He supposed it would have to be.

And then his mind backtracked, latching onto the name Thompson, and how they had seemed vaguely familiar. And how they had seemed to know him just now in the room.

Shit-those Thompsons? They had been his neighbors in his first slum apartment when he was just 16, a pathetic runaway using his powers to get by. Liz had taught him some ropes, checked in on him, treated him like he was worth a shit. They were like him, doing what they had to.

Suddenly, he was very glad they had found their way out of that life. They deserved it.

"Well, if that's all?" Stein said suddenly. "Spirit and I will be-"

He didn't get to complete the thought as a loud cry of "Maka! My gem! My life! Papa loves you, I'm so-"

He heard a loud thwap, heard Spirit yelp in pain and step back. "Get off me!" he heard a bleary growl. Ah, the love of his life was awake and clearly in high spirits. The relief that she was okay enough to be awake flooded him before the dread that, shit, shit, she was awake clawed at his heart.

Soul couldn't see her, though, because Spirit's thick ass was in the way, and he needed to see her, touch her, so he sat up straighter and began to scoot off the mattress.

"You really ought to stay in bed," Stein drawled at him as he tried to stand and was wobbly on his feet. Soul ignored him and, noting the IV attached to his arm, clutched at the wheeling pole to hobble towards Maka's bed only a few feet away.

"Maka," he rasped out, emotions high as he caught sight of her red face, her livid, flashing green eyes. She was bolt upright in bed, looking so good, so her, that he wanted to run to her and wished that he could.

"Soul," she breathed for an instant, her hand flying to cover her mouth, her eyes wide as she took him in. Then they narrowed and shifted to Spirit.

"Papa," she commanded imperiously. "I need to talk to Soul-alone."

"But Maka, honey, you only just wo-"

"Now," she snapped, and the man who had only minutes before moved and spoke with practiced command, cringed before the lithe girl in the bed, nodding.

"Yes, yes, I'll just-come back. Papa loves you, okay sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I know," she said, and Spirit slunk away, clearly dejected. Stein followed after, whistling, and threw Soul a look that screamed you're screwed over his shoulder before strolling through the door and shutting it after him with a too loud bang and click.

Soul had paused for an instant, but began to walk again, hobble really, until he finally reached the chair Spirit had pulled up to Maka's bedside and sank into the hard plastic gratefully.

She was glaring at him, lips pursed, but at least she was close and awake. He'd take that.

"Maka," he repeated. "I-"

"No," she said sharply. "You don't talk. You don't get to talk, don't get to make excuses, not yet. You listen. You listen, and then maybe you talk, and when you're done maybe I won't kill you. Maybe."

"Right," he said quietly, feeling sick.

"What you did was stupid. And wrong. And stupid. You made a promise, Soul, not just to the League, but to me. When I found out you were the Weapon, as hard as that was, I thought that would be the end of it-we'd both lied and we didn't need to lie anymore. And then, when I found out about Eater, it hurt-that you were lying again when I thought we were long past that-and we agreed, no more lies. But still, still you lied to me. And I can't do that, Soul, I can't. I can't do lies, I can't do deception. I saw what that does to people all my life, how it kills them, and I won't do that. I won't. So-I need to know. I need to know there won't be any more lies. Because we've had enough of those for a lifetime, and if we can't be honest, then I think-I think we can't be. Do you understand?" Her eyes were searching his, earnest, imploring. She was hurt-she was so very hurt and he'd done that and he wanted to crawl into a hole and die and he wanted to hold her and never let go and he wanted to do anything, everything to make it better, make it right.

Soul nodded, swallowing down the thick lump in his throat. "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah," he repeated. He couldn't make more words come, all the words he longed to say like I love you, I need you, I'm sorry; I just wanted to be close to you, protect you, make sure I would never, never lose you; please-please-hold me, stay with me, marry me.

The last he'd wanted to say for so so long now-wanted so much for the world to know he was hers, always hers, but he'd never been able to do it. He'd never been worthy.

Worthy or not, he was feeling desperate and so afraid and he just-

"And that's all you have to say?" Her fist suddenly gripped hard into her bedding. He could see her hurt morph to anger before his very eyes, seething and raw. "Why'd you do it, Soul?" Her voice was low and dangerous.

"I just-" he stammered, unable to meet her eyes, staring instead at her hands fisting her sheets. "I couldn't lose you. The thought-it killed me. I wanted-needed to be able to help you. Protect you, if I could. I shouldn't have lied to you, I know-I know-but I just felt so damn helpless, I was just so damn afraid. So I'm sorry." He raised his eyes to hers. "I'm so so fucking sorry. Not for not taking the pills, and not for helping you, because that kept you safe and I will never, never apologize for that-but for deceiving you. I'm sorry. I love you and I'm sorry."

She looked so torn, so angry. "You bastard!" she screeched and suddenly her pillow was being hurtled in his face. With the strength the Grigori could put behind it, it actually hurt, and he yelped as it slid from his face to his lap. "You-you overprotective-ugh! Do you know what the League'll do? I can't-"

"No, no wait." And suddenly he was on dangerous ground, occupying the small strip of her bed next to her, but he couldn't take the space anymore, the distance. "It's-it's okay-I swear-I swear it's all going to be okay! Your dad and Stein-they came in to tell me. Well, okay, they came in to fuck with me, but eventually they actually told me-" He was babbling and she was fuming and shit-get to the point, Soul, get to the fucking point. "I'm gonna be hero, Maka! We're gonna be partners-partners-and I can use my powers to help you and the League is cool with it as long as I don't screw it up. See? I'm not a total fuck up anymore. And, shit, I've been wanting to say this for so damn long-" he grabbed her hands and she was looking at him with this gobsmacked expression, jaw slack and fuck he loved her-he loved her, and the words just wouldn't stop. "You're everything, Maka, everything--have been since the second I met you, since I drenched you in coke and bought you pizza. I can't imagine my life without you. Shit-I'd probably be dead or in jail, no I'd definitely be dead or in jail. I know-I know I'm never gonna be worth it, but I'll spend every fucking day trying if you'll let me, if you want me, if you'll marry me."

Her jaw went from slack to on the floor, her eyes wide. He squeezed her hands. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen, shocked. Fuck, what could he do, what could he say? He had rambled his idiot heart out and it was a mess.

"I know I'm supposed to get on one knee or some stupid shit-and have a ring-but you never cared about stuff like that. Hell, you're the type of girl who would get on one knee herself and I love that, love how strong you are, how you take no shit from me or anyone. And I actually have a ring, had a ring for years, just never thought I deserved to give it to you. I still don't, but Maka, I love you and-"

"Soul." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was all it took to end his stream of words.

"Maka," he breathed, his heart racing. Was she going to tell him off? Or-or-

"Yes," she said quietly. Firmly.

"Y-yes?"

"Yes. I want to marry you. You're an idiot, and I'm still mad at you-probably going to be mad at you for awhile-but I love you, and there's no other idiot I can imagine spending my life with, so yes, I'll marry you. Maybe not right away, because we definitely have some things we need to talk about-but yes."

His face felt wet-oh shit, he was actually crying. He never cried, not in years, not since he was a kid. But he was just so happy, so fucking relieved. She accepted him even now, all of him, his past, everything-had accepted his indecent proposal, was willing to spend her life with with him. With him. He had turned his life to shit, to ash, not once but twice, and yet, here he was, rising again, rising with Maka by his side. How could he not cry? Soul would have moved a hand to swipe away the offending wetness, but Maka beat him to it, bringing up a hand, wiping at his tears with her thumb before cupping his face gently and leaning towards him to press her lips to his own.

It was brief and sweet and completely necessary and he snaked his arms around her, heedless of the IV, just needing to feel her close and safe and his.

She pulled away after a bare few moments, leaning against him with a small sigh, the press of their foreheads filling him with undeserved contentment.

"You know you're still in trouble, right?" she asked after several moments.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I know."

"And that if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I'll castrate you," she continued casually, and he swallowed and nodded slightly, forehead leaving hers for an instant.

"Yeah," he acknowledged.

"And I think you're going to need to make it up to me. Quite a few times, actually." As her tongue worked to enunciate the words carefully before flicking out to wet her lips, he caught her meaning; though her voice was light, there was a hint of dark promise in it that made him go warm.

"Definitely," Soul said, voice low and rough and laden with promise of his own.

Maka pulled away to look at him and her smile, brilliant and just a little bit wicked, made his heart soar. Then her soft lips were on his again, warm and eager, and all was right with the world.