Marie hasn't looked at Stein since they left Medusa's hideout. She has had excuses, in the form of Crona's limp body and the crying little girl they have in tow now, but Stein has been watching her more than he has ever bothered to before, and she is actively avoiding looking at him.

It makes a difference, to know. It makes a difference that he has realized that it is love that has been in her face all these years, it makes a difference to have felt her own resignation to his lack of requital all through his soul, it makes a difference to have had her in his head during what is looking to have been the worst episode of Madness he has ever had, worse even than the last time she collected him from the brink of total insanity. But now they are both on the same page, finally - her loving him, him not loving her, both aware of the other's feelings - and Marie looks like a person now as she never has before.

He wishes that wasn't true, that he had seen her as another person before now, and that is a novel sensation in itself. Regret is not something Stein is particularly familiar with; even the years of carrying his Spirit-guilt haven't come with the specificity of regret. But then he hasn't really seen someone else's feelings so clearly, so perfectly paralleled with his own for Spirit. Knowing how Marie must feel now, seeing how different her behavior has been than his, has granted her a dimension that he is suspecting she has always had, that he just never thought to look for.

Like right now. She is avoiding him and he isn't sure if that's discomfort or resignation or just distraction, can't tell how much or what emotions are under her skin, and without her face turned towards him he can't even get the minimal cues that can sometimes help. Soul Perception is no good; there is nothing there but worry, barely-restrained panic and concern for everyone and everything. Anything more subtle is entirely lost under the apocalyptic panic.

"The surgery went well," he offers to the weapon leaning over Crona's still body. The sound of his own voice is clear in his head, unobstructed by any internal sounds. It is strange to have his head be his own again. "We just need to keep him stable. Given enough time, he should make a full recovery."

"Yeah. That's good to hear." Her voice is soft and weighed down. It's not happy, out of focus with her words, but he can't see why. "But still…"

Curiosity strains his patience, brings words to his lips. "Still what?"

"It's just that…" The pause loads itself with meaning that Stein can't understand before Marie continues speaking. "I said something I'll never be able to take back. I told Crona I didn't trust him. That I never would again unless we recovered you."

Guilt. It's guilt that Marie has been feeling, unrelated to Stein on any level. That is what is drawing her words slow and gentle and moist with almost-tears.

"I was there with him the whole time, but I couldn't keep him from getting injured. He's hurt because I forced him into fighting Medusa. It's all my fault."

Marie's words wrap around the jumbled reactions in Stein's head, smooth out the tangle of his thoughts into straight lines, and everything is very clear and very bright just now, with his thoughts free of outside influence and his hands steady again and the future unfolding before him with a golden infinity of possibility, and the answer to Marie's statement rises to Stein's voice with so much of Spirit in it that he is surprised it comes in his own tone.

"So why not tell him that?"

Marie shifts in surprise, looks back at Stein. Her visible eye is wide with shock that doesn't fade as she looks at him. He has no idea what he looks like, to get such a reaction from her, but he knows he is smiling and can't reign in the expression or the happiness underneath it, the hope that is singing all through his thoughts in place of the Kishin's static. Crona has a future now, Stein has a future now, and the possibilities of that are endless.

"Crona's going to be alright." They are all going to be alright. Optimism is setting his blood on fire. "You can tell him how you feel when he wakes up." The years of waiting and hoping and thinking are done, he is back when he never thought he would get a second or a third or a fourth chance and he's going to deal with this once and for all, attack the problem head-on for once. "I'm sure he'll forgive you." If Stein can be forgiven, Marie certainly can be.

When she smiles, it is soft and genuine and hopeful. It is the first time Stein can remember causing her happiness. Then there is a movement over Marie's shoulder as Crona shifts, whimpers soft, and Marie's focus is gone, all her attention redirected on the former student.

"Crona? Are you okay? Crona!"

She is prone to hovering, isn't she? Stein notes.

She'll be a great mother someday, Spirit responds, whisper-soft in his head, and Stein smiles without words.

"Can't stay," Crona mumbles. "I have to go. I have to go find Maka."

If he had said anything else, Stein would have said no. He should say no, should insist that Crona lie still and wait out his recovery, that Maka will be fine without him and she will come to visit once everything is over. But the words vibrate into his head, past the now-still screw and against all the old memories still bright with the novelty of regaining them, and when he opens his mouth to respond "Okay" is what comes out.

Marie turns to look back at him. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Stein?"

She is speaking before she sees him. Her voice is hesitant and confused and then she sees his face, and he doesn't know what is in his eyes, his mask is gone and he can't get it back now, but whatever she sees makes her own soften. She sighs, almost-smiles; he can see the corner of her mouth twitch in probably amusement although she looks like she is on the verge of tears.

"That's where you want to be too," she says. Stein would ask her how she knows but she is his weapon, over all those years that he never thought of her as such she was, and she can read him better than he ever thought she was able to, and he can't tell her she is wrong when everything in him wants to be where Spirit is, wants to trace the whisper of soul wavelength back through the streets and the years apart and finally come back to the conclusion they always should have had.

Marie looks away, up at the corner of wall and ceiling, and blinks hard. When she laughs it is wet with repressed sobs but genuine for all that, and Stein is certain that he will never understand his weapons' ability to fully feel multiple contradictory emotions at once.

"I think we're all in agreement on this, really," she says, and then she is smiling and getting to her feet, brushing a hand over her cheeks and blinking her way into cheer again. "How will we move him?"

"Do you think you can walk?" Stein asks Crona. The sword meister nods with more determination than reason, pushes himself up on the cot with shaking arms. He does make it upright, although his chin is fixed with the effort and his shoulders are trembling like leaves in a high wind.

Stein steps towards the cot, takes Crona's elbow and pulls the meister upright bodily. He weighs almost nothing at all, just skin and bones and black blood, but he stays on his feet once placed there, and as soon as Stein lets him go Marie is there, wrapping her arm under Crona's to hold him upright.

"Here." Stein slides his lab coat off his shoulders; it is not perfectly clean and rather heavy, but the weight will hold in heat and Crona could do with the insulation. Stein himself feels like he is burning, like adrenaline is turning his blood to steam in his veins and he will burst if he doesn't move, right now, if they don't start acting towards the desired end. The coat nearly falls off Crona's shoulders before the meister reaches up with his free hand to hold it closed. When he looks up at Stein, his body is shaking but his gaze is clear, meeting Stein's eyes for the first time Stein has ever known. His eyes are blue, dark blue like Azusa's, and steady as Maka's.

Stein smiles, and that is genuine too. "Let's go."