MAKA
They walk for two more days. Maka has lost track of how many days have passed since they've been on this godforsaken planet. She knows that she's sunburnt, and her once-crisp dress uniform has been torn and muddied and bloodied. Her medals have been stowed safely in her bag. Only the bone-numbing chill of the evenings keeps her from discarding her heavy navy blue jacket altogether – that and the sense of military propriety that remains rooted within her.
The howls of the kee-shin creatures – whom the group simply dub 'kishin' – grow more and more frequent. They're worse at night, and Maka makes the decision to put a second person on every watch. Everyone finds it hard to sleep with the haunting, bone-chilling cries echoing every few minutes.
On the second day, they come across the first of the Shibusen's wreckage. The gouge that the ship left in the ground is massive, even more so than it had appeared from the top of that crest so many days ago. It's a macabre thought, the fact that they're walking in the remains of a crash that killed so many people, but they're a resilient group.
"YAHOO!" Blake exclaims as they step into large strip of dirt, "No more grass! No more grass!"
Patty giggles and joins in the chant. "No more grass! No more grass!"
Maka watches them wearily, a deep exhaustion settling in her bones as she realizes they must be getting close. She looks over to see Soul beside her, and he too has the sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes that she imagines are prominent on her own face. They all do. The emergency rations stashed in the pod had only been meant to last a week at most, and she thinks it's been about that. She tries to count the days in her head, but her sleep-deprived, malnutritioned brain won't cooperate with her. They've been rationing even more, and with the number of calories they burn walking each day, none of them are getting nearly enough to eat or drink.
She sighs as she feels a larger hand clasp her own. Ever since the night she nearly poured her heart out to him in the light of the dying embers of the fire, they've grown closer, both emotionally and physically. She isn't entirely sure how to feel about the new development, but she finds comfort in the casual touches they exchange, and so she lets it happen. She'd be lying if she said her heart didn't leap with each and every one.
But she knows now is not the time nor place for such a thing, and that they'll likely go their separate ways once they're off-planet. It's not just him, either; she'd be naïve to think that the bonds formed between these seven radically different people will last once they're all carefully ensconced back in their own lives once again.
For now, though, she simply squeezes Soul's hand in return.
"All right, guys, settle down," she says, letting go as she steps forward. "We're almost there, but we don't know how far the Shibusen skidded, so we could still have a few days to go yet." She pauses. "If … we come across any escape pods … we need to salvage what we can. We're almost out of food, and we're low on water, too. I know it's gross …"
"We'll do it," Liz says, slinging her arm around her sister. "It's not all that different from what we did on Andel, right, Sis?"
Patty shakes her head. "Nope!"
Of all of them, Liz and Patty look the most out of place in their torn and dirtied ballgowns with wrap bandages around their feet. Maka sighs heavily. "Thank you, Liz, Patty."
The days of endless walking through scorching heat and fields of waist-high grass have taken their toll on everybody – not just physically, but mentally too. It was yesterday that Blake had proclaimed himself 'The Great God Black Star' and had asked everyone to address him as such. Tsubaki humored him for an hour before it got old. Meanwhile, Kidd obsesses more and more over the symmetry of nature – or lack thereof – as his nerves are frazzled by the lack of civilization.
Maka's impressed by – and thankful for – the fact that Soul has shown no signs of such madness. She knows that she should be relying on Tsubaki, her fellow soldier, as her rock through all this, but somehow that role has fallen to the white-haired socialite who stands slightly behind her.
He did save my life, she reasons. She has not forgotten that incident on the catwalk. If not for him, she would be but a splatter against the inner hull of the ship. She would like to think that Tsubaki would have been able to get the rest of them out alive, but a feeling tells her that probably wouldn't have been the case.
So really, they all owe their lives to Soul. She wishes she had something to give to him in thanks, but what could she possibly give him that he doesn't already have?
These thoughts consume her as they trek through the valley gouged by the fallen Shibusen.
So distracted is she at first that she doesn't register the keening howls of the Kishin that have grown so commonplace over the past couple days. It's only when Tsubaki asks her what she wants to do that she realizes there's a problem. The haunting wails only grow louder as they approach the wreckage of the ship, and Maka's heart sinks with the knowledge that an encounter with these creatures is inevitable.
"Nothing," she sighs in response. "We're going to continue on like we have been – we need to get to that wreck, the creatures be damned." She eyes the motley, bedraggled crew before her. If it weren't for the fact that designer suits and dresses are still identifiable beneath the mud-stained, tattered clothing they wear, she would never have pinned them for high society folk. She takes a deep breath. "Does everyone have a weapon of some sort?" she asks. "If not, stick close to someone who does."
As it turns out, it's only Kidd and Blake who don't have weapons. Tsubaki is military, as is Maka, and Soul has Maka's blaster. The surprise is in the Thompson sister, who lift the torn remains of their skirts to reveal thigh holsters and slim, hidden blasters. Liz shrugs at the look on Maka's face.
"We might be society girls, but Kidd offered to hire us as his bodyguards. It gives us an excuse to keep weapons on ourselves – I feel naked without one after Andel. Sorry we didn't tell you, but we're used to not telling anyone."
Maka nods firmly. "Good," she says, "that's fine. Keep Kidd safe. Tsubaki, you've got Blake."
"Yes, sir!"
Maka slides her scythe out of its holster on her back, keeping it at the ready as they continue their walk through the destruction the Shibusen left in her wake. Hours pass, and by the time the sun sets, her shoulders are tense and knotted. She rolls them uneasily in an attempt to limber them up once again.
They're walking amongst larger wreckage now. They pass several downed escape pods, and Liz and Patty stay true to their promise. They emerge with extra rations and sealed canteens, and the grim looks on their faces say it all. They have found no survivors. It is what Maka expected, but it doesn't change the damper that it puts on the group's attitude.
The howls of the Kishin are even louder now, and much more frequent. The majority of them must be nocturnal, Maka decides. But that brings up an even bigger question – does she stop and camp for the night, leaving only a couple people on guard duty, or do they press on and change their sleep schedule so that they sleep during the day?
One look at her entourage gives Maka her answer: there is no way that any of them are surviving until morning without sleep. Besides, despite how cold it gets at night, at least it gets dark – and there's no chance for sunburn. Sleeping during the day here would be nigh on impossible, and if someone did fall asleep, they'd burn to a crisp.
So Maka calls them to a halt and they set up camp for the evening amongst the wreckage of the Shibusen. As morbid as it is, its presence is comforting – it means that they are closer to the wreck herself, which in turn means the end of their long march, shelter, and potential communications equipment. She doesn't want to think about what they'll do if Kidd and Liz can't jury-rig a communications array from what's left.
If that's the case, then they'll salvage what supplies they need and what materials they can find, and they'll try to live out the rest of their lives on this godforsaken planet. They'll be modern-day Robinson Crusoes, but at least they'll have each other.
And then it won't matter that Soul is a son of the prestigious Evans family and she's just a farmgirl who happened to get lucky.
"Maka?" a voice asks beside her, "Are you all right?"
Speak of the devil, and he may appear – red eyes and all. Maka sighs. "Yeah, I'm fine," she says. "At least, as fine as I can be. I was just, y'know, thinking about what'll happen if we can't get the communications up."
"We'll get them up," he says confidently. "Kidd and Liz are amazing."
"But what if we don't, Soul?" Maka says pleadingly, turning to him. "What if we're doomed to live the rest of our lives on this planet?"
Soul looks down at her with those blazing red eyes of his, visible even in the darkness, and shrugs as he turns toward where the others are building what fire they can. "I … wouldn't mind that," he says hesitantly.
Maka's heart skips a beat, and her hand finds his down by her side. "I … don't think I would, either. We'd have great company."
"And no paps," Soul reminds her. "No media to get all up in our faces." He laughs. "It sounds tempting just to give up on going home."
He squeezes her hand, and she smiles grimly as she stares into the baby flame that Patty's nursing. It's ridiculous how seriously she's taking his suggestion, which he surely made in gest. She knows they can't stay here. The climate is unfriendly. The Kishin are threatening. Soul has his responsibilities to go back to, and she has hers. She knows that as soon as they return, they won't ever see each other again outside of news holos. She'll spend the rest of her life wondering, what if?
She doesn't want to spend the rest of her life wondering what if, and she's never been a girl afraid of going after what she wants. She wanted to go to the Academy, so she did. She wanted to be the top of her class, so she was. She wanted to use her scythe, so she did. She wanted be assigned a position on the front lines, so she was. She wanted to get as many people out of the SNAFU that was the campaign in Death City, so she did.
She wanted to survive the wreck of the Shibusen, so she did. She wants to get everyone off this planet alive, so she will.
And in that moment, she wants to know what it's like to kiss Soul Evans.
She takes a deep breath. "Soul?" she asks, squeezing his hand tighter.
"Yeah?"
"There's, uhm, there's an escape pod just a little ways back. I was thinking of nabbing a couple extra thermal sheets. Could you come with me? I don't think it's wise to go alone when the Kishin are so close."
"Oh, yeah, sure. Do you wanna just tell the others real quick? They should probably know where we've gone."
"Good idea, I'll be right back."
She informs Tsubaki about where they're going, and what for, and the other girl nods. "Just be safe," she says. Her slightly teasing tone carries with it a double entendre, and Maka turns quickly to hide a blush.
And then she' leading Soul into the darkness away from the fire, where she did actually see a downed escape pod a little bit earlier. She stops just beside it, turning instead back to Soul. The man looks at her, slightly confused. "Maka, what –"
But his query is cut off as she stretches up to her tiptoes, wraps her arms around his neck, and pulls him in so his lips meet hers. He's stiff at first, but as he realizes what's happening he relaxes into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her in return and dipping down so that she's no longer on her toes.
Maka sighs into him at the slightly rough sensation of his chapped lips moving against her own just-as-chapped ones. His mouth is warm against hers in the chilled night air, and her arms wrap tighter around his neck, her hands sliding up into his hair as she tries to get closer.
She gasps softly against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along her lower lip. She moans at the sensation – it's been far too long – and accepts him eagerly. Their tongues dance languidly together, as if they have all the time in the world. Maka feels her knees going weak.
It is the culmination of what began that night aboard the Shibusen; of the cautious flirtation that disaster so eagerly struck down. They are no longer the polished, articulate people who wear fancy suits and smart uniforms; yet, down here on the ground, in the torn and filthy remains of those same clothes, everything feels so much more real. The neon drinks are gone, but she knows his eyes are just as deep as they were as the first time she saw him, and the stars above them are a thousand times more beautiful than the false Victorian ballroom could ever be.
They are no longer Major Albarn and Soul Evans, but simply Maka and Soul – two falling stars streaking across the sky.
She never wants to let go. She knows that with falling comes the inevitable impact – that moment where everything blows up in their faces, leaving only a crater behind. But that isn't something she has to worry about. Not yet.
And so she and Soul just hold on tighter.