Lost was the child

Maka, Rated: K; Mommy issues.

She's expecting a call, so she doesn't think twice about picking up the phone when it rings. They don't get many calls to begin with, and very few people have their number. Maka's heart stops when she greets their caller with a cheery, "Hello!" and hears not Tsubaki's familiar voice, but that of an unfamiliar woman.

"May I speak with Soul Evans, please?"

Evans, she thinks. As startled as she is, Maka knows there are a finite number of possibilities for who the woman could be. As far as she knows, there are only two, maybe three people in the whole of Death City who know Soul's given name.

"May I ask who's calling?" She keeps her voice steady. The question is perfunctory; she already knows the answer.

"This is Lucretia Evans. Is he available?"

Maka wants to say yes. She's not sure of the full story behind Soul and his family, but she knows that he doesn't talk to them much, if at all. She's never seen him pick up the phone and call them at least-he's never gone home for Christmas or other holidays. He occasionally gets mail, but she's not sure if he's ever replied.

Maka has no trouble matching this Lucretia Evans with the elegantly scrawled handwriting on Soul's rare mail.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Evans, but Soul's out at the moment." She had been waiting for Tsubaki to call. Black*Star was supposed to be keeping Soul occupied while the girls went shopping for his birthday. "C-can I take a message?"

The silence from the other end of the line is thick, and Maka wonders for a moment if she's said something wrong-all she knows about Soul's family is that they're rich. Has she managed to step on the woman's toes in some way? Maka steals herself, but all she hears is a very faint exhalation.

"Oh. I'm sorry to bother you."

"It's no trouble at all," Maka reassures her. "I'd be happy to give him a message from you-"

"Ah, no. That...that won't be necessary," Lucretia says. There is an awkward pause, and Maka can't help but wonder about this woman who sounds so elegant and refined, yet so hesitant and unsure of herself. She hadn't given much thought to Soul's parents, but had she been asked, this woman would not have matched up with the vague picture she'd created of her partner's mother. "Are you-his partner?" The question sounds forced.

"Yes, I am." She pauses, considers, and in a flash makes her decision. "My name is Maka Albarn; it's nice to meet you." After a fashion, at least. This can barely be considered meeting, and "nice" doesn't really cover the awkward silences and pauses. Briefly, Maka wonders if Soul will be mad at her, and decides that this might be worth it anyway.

"The pleasure's all mine, Ms. Albarn."

"Please, call me Maka." She doesn't care for the formality in the older woman's tone, the rigidity makes her uncomfortable. Maka cringes at the lingering silence.

"And you may call me Lucretia if you like," she says after a moment, and there is shift in her voice, as though Maka's words have unlocked something. "Please, if you have a moment, may I ask you something?"

"Oh, of course; please, go ahead."

"Is-Soul, is he all right?"

Oh. Oh. She kind of wants to chop her partner into next week. She hadn't seen him respond to his parents because he never had.

"He's doing fine, Mrs.-Lucretia." Maka doesn't know what happened between Soul and his parents. She hasn't and won't pry-she trusts her partner, and knows that he must have his reasons, but what she hears now is a mother, confused and worried. She tries not to think about the mother who hasn't called her in years.

"He's doing well in school?"

"Well, he's a little bit of a slacker, but he's smart, and he's an excellent partner."

"I confess, I don't know much about what it is he's...doing."

She considers all the things that Soul does, what they do together, what this life of theirs entails and the scar that bisects her son now-she settles for, "He's my weapon. Soul is a hero who protects people and keeps them safe. He's the best partner I could ever dream of having, Lucretia." There is another soft sigh from the line. "He's a good man-an incredible man," Maka adds.

She almost misses the whispered, "Thank you," and she deliberately ignores what sounds suspiciously like a sob.

"It's my pleasure," Maka says. "Thank you." There is a faint sniffle. "Are you sure I can't take a message for him?"

"Please just...let him know that we're proud of him."

"I will."

"Thank you, Maka. It's truly been a pleasure."

"You're welcome. It's nice to meet you." And this time it does feel nice, not as awkward as she'd been expecting. As an afterthought, she adds, "Soul's supposed to be in all day tomorrow. Just. So you know."

"I'll keep that in mind. Goodbye Maka."

"Bye-" The line clicks, and Maka hangs up the phone, wondering if the conversation she just had was actually real. She feels stuck in surreality.

The phone rings, and she hesitates before answering. "Hello?"

"Maka? I've been trying to get through! Black*Star's got Soul distracted-are you ready to go?"

"Ah. Yeah, sorry. I had another call on the line. I'll..I'll head your way. See you in a few."