This is probably not the twist you were hoping for (?!), but I swear I'm moving towards something like a happy ending?
If Maka didn't open her eyes, then it couldn't all be real. She could stay right there in the dream, the limbo before reality hit that she was alone in the entirety of the word. In her mind, she could have her son. She could have Soul. As she clutched the thin sheet in between her fingers she knew the cold truth, there wasn't a son, just a strangely filled emptiness, and no matter her reaching she couldn't feel Soul, not in the room, not next to her.
"Maka?" Spirit whispered, his hand moving over the top of her fist dug into the bed.
"No," she gasped for air as her eyes shot open. "No, no, no," the chant continued as she beat her hands into the mattress, Spirit trying in vain to stop the movement.
"I know, honey, I know." Spirit gave up on her hands, moving instead to clear the hair from her face and then work on the tears.
"Soul," she howled and tried to jut forward, Spirit barely moving his hands in time to keep her pinned to the bed.
"He's in Stein's office. We couldn't risk him being up here, not with all the hurt kids." Spirit kept his hands clamped to her shoulders even as he felt the pressure from her release.
"Risk him?" Maka blinked, sure she was still stuck in the dream. "What do you mean, Papa?"
Spirit shook his head mournfully. "Marie's trying to purge the madness, Maka, but-"
"The Black Blood," she groaned as she renewed the pressure, fighting against him until the cramping in her stomach became unbearable.
"Maka, stop!" Spirit hated the shout and immediately lowered his voice, risking moving one hand back to her hair. "You're hurt. The internal bleeding was enough that… well…"
"My baby's gone," she murmured. "I know. I don't feel him anymore. He's gone."
"I'm sorry, Maka." He wished his hands were like Marie's, holding that healing at his fingertips but all he could offer her was more useless strokes of her hair before moving to clear away the endless trail of tears.
Suddenly her hand was tight on his wrist, her nails digging into the skin. "Take me to him."
In vain, Spirit tried to break free but found her somehow rabid with strength. "Maka, I told you, you're hurt. Moving you could-"
"I don't care," she used every last ounce of breath in her lungs creating a scream bordering on feral. "Bring me to Soul, or bring him to me if you have to!"
"I'll… I'll get him, Maka, just promise me you won't move." Spirit started to pull back his wrist again and she relented, her eyes still burning through him as he took another step back. "Please, stay still."
Maka let her focus fall to the ceiling, no breath or energy available for an answer. As she counted her heartbeats, she let her fingers linger from the sheets to her stomach. A warbling groan left her lips as she realized the swell of her stomach was still there, the shape not instantly disappearing in the fashion of her son's soul. She gripped at the skin, kneading into it as if that were all it would require to bring back the movement they'd enjoyed what felt like just hours ago. Instead, it was exactly as she knew it to be, empty.
As her beats reached the thousands she heard the scuffling in the hall, the cacophony of voices in tones that undulated from panicked to angry. It was Marie who entered first, her face drained and exhausted but in no way diminishing her drive to put her hands on Maka, to feel the warmth and life pulsing through her skin. "Maka?"
"Marie…" Fresh tears spouted from her eyes as those gently, motherly hands started to clear them away.
Marie's hands drifted across her cheeks, her shoulders, her hand, fixing every last wrinkle or tear. "Oh, Maka, I'm sorry, so sorry."
And Maka could feel it, the regret seeping out of every touch. "Marie, Soul. Papa promised to bring Soul."
"He's right outside." Marie hesitantly looked to the curtain and then back at Maka. "Stein and Kid are kind of fighting about it right now, and he's sedated, so…" Marie stopped her soothing hands as she saw the urgency in Maka's eyes. "Give me a second."
"Soul," Maka moaned.
Marie tried to ignore the way that plunged a needle into her heart and walked back behind the sheet. She came almost face to face with Soul's lolling head as Stein held him like a baby in his arms. "It's dangerous either way," Stein tried to keep his voice to a whisper, knowing the sound blocking capabilities of sheets.
"It could tumble them both back into Madness," Kid hissed for what felt like the thirtieth time but the logic still wasn't sticking to Stein, that blank blinking still on his face.
"Or Maka's Anti-Demon wavelength along with Marie's healing becomes the only way we pull him out of this hole," this was Stein's own reiteration, the theory he'd floated all the way up the stairs.
"Bring him in," Marie butted between the two of them, making each jump. "She's going to get out of that bed and kill herself doing it if you don't. Lay him right now next to her, let her have him." Kid sucked the air through his teeth as Stein followed his wife's orders, stopping only to let her move the curtain for him.
There was no way to describe the layers of pain. It started with moving in the bed, trying to clear enough space for Soul as her back and stomach protested violently. She sputtered out a breath when the next wave came as she saw the limp, slack quality to a face that was always so emotive to her, that was constantly wearing away at her heart with those smirks and smiles. Stein rested Soul in the space Maka had made, just in time to see the last wave of agony hit her face. He's going to wake up, and I'm going to have to tell him.
"Maka, let's try this together, OK?" Marie moved behind Soul, resting her hand on his stark white hair. "Resonate and I'm going to try to break in. If we can team up, you and I, I think we can pull him out."
"OK." Maka leaned her face towards his, brushing her lips quickly against the ones that refused to smile before sinking her forehead against his. "Soul, please."
He was at the piano and had been for hours, beating away at white keys that were now red as he bludgeoned his fingertips raw. It was his voice, too, that had scratched away, now just a wheezing breath of sound to punctuate each note, a pathetic whimper of, "I want my son."
When she realized the words coming from his mouth her heart lurched into her throat along with the crushing feeling of her lungs resisting air. Maka willed her feet forward, her hands finally coming to his shoulders as he turned to see her haloed against the inky darkness.
"Maka?" His bloody fingers grabbed at her, pulling her forward so he could press his face against her stomach. While this wasn't reality, it sadly reflected it, leaving him no hill to lay on, just the flat, tight skin of months ago. "The baby, our baby…"
"No, Soul," she murmured as he ran her fingers through his hair.
"No," it was a sick, inhuman wail from this throat. "No, no, I tried to protect you. I hurt her. I killed her."
"You did," Maka continued to stroke through his white tresses. She noticed the room starting to brighten and felt that searching from elsewhere, the soft call of Marie. As he tightened his grip on her, Maka turned her attention back to the mop of hair against her stomach. "You did everything you could do."
"But the baby," he moaned. "I want our baby. I want my son!" It was a feral, dark cry and Maka could feel him shutting Marie out as that inky darkness lapped at her heels.
He wants his son, he wants his boy, and you do, too, don't you? the Madness whispered at her back.
"Soul," it was the firmest voice she could manage with the tremble of the truth of that call from the darkness. Maka took a step back, finding it hard to resist his arms as she had to fight with him for space, her hands ending up clutching to his cheeks. "He's gone. Staying here won't bring him back. Playing won't bring him back. Nothing in this world can bring him back."
"No," he wailed again.
"But I need you," she screamed back. "You're not allowed to stay here, to give up and leave me with this! He may be gone but I'm still here, Soul!" It took everything she had not to dig her fingers into his cheeks.
"It's not fair," he murmured.
A trembling breath came from her mouth, Maka losing hold on the strength she'd come there with. "No, it's not, but I-"
"No," Soul grabbed his hands over hers, "I'm not being fair. It's both of us, isn't it? It's not just me and I forgot that. You're out there, aren't you? Awake and you know-"
"And I need you," she cried again, shaking his head in her hands. "I need you to wake up right now and make it feel like I haven't lost everything."
"I'm sorry, Maka." He stood as he pulled her hands from his face, moving them instead to cradle them against his chest. "I'm sorry I forgot that it's you. I want you, too."
"Then show me," Maka leaned herself closer. Soul met her without hesitation, pressing his lips against hers as it felt like the sun finally parted the clouds, the warm light filtering onto Maka's face.
"Maka?" It was the worst her name had ever sounded off his lips but his throat was shredded, an awful reminder of not just the dream but the reality of the field.
Maka wanted to open her eyes and still feel that sun, the glow that Marie had afforded in their resonance but it was instead to the cold reality, just his battered face looking at hers. "Soul…"
"Oh, thank Death!" Marie leaned forward and without even thinking planted her lips against Soul's hair.
"Hey, Marie," he croaked as he reached up a shaking hand to pat in her direction, meeting her shoulder awkwardly before instantly floating to Maka's arm. "How hurt?"
"I'll live," Maka whispered through a trembling smile. "But…"
Soul let out a trembling breath, a short nod. It was the worst game of chicken in their life, a test of who was going to cry first as they locked eyes. Soul gave in, hiding the sound of his choking with the creak of the bed as he shifted closer and hid his face against her neck. Maka adjusted to let him disappear against her as the ache in her chest fought with the stabbing in her stomach.
Bringing Maka home wasn't like the last time, no high romantics as Soul wasn't even well enough to lift her. Instead, Spirit carried her and Soul was left with a firm arm that Marie insisted on giving. It was bed-rest for the two of them, Soul requiring a hand on her almost at all times like a tether away from the Madness. She still heard it at night, when the nightmares started to boil in his brains, that raging call of his blood. That was the most noise she seemed to hear from him since while Soul could never have been considered a talker, he now bordered on mute. Maka was starting to fear the only words left in his vocabulary were "I love you."
So waking up in the middle of the night and finding him not tangled in the sheets, his mind not screaming for her was an odd sensation. Maka still ached as she slipped out of the bed, recovery working at a snail's pace since her mind was hurt just as much as her body, but she forced herself onto her feet. She didn't have to go far, seeing him sitting in the middle of the second bedroom as soon as she got into the hallway. Her foot creaking against the floorboard swiveled his head and Soul stared up at her. "Go back to sleep."
"Why do you get to have all the fun?" she murmured in reply as she walked the rest of the way into the room.
"Bed rest, Maka," he muttered.
"I'll take floor rest for a second. Pretty sure it's the same thing." Maka sank to the floor next to him, grabbing his arm to move it out of the way so she could rest her head on his lap.
With a sigh he repositioned his legs, giving her more comfortable space to rest her head. Soul leaned back on his hands, eyes still focused on the slats of the crib.
Maka was staring up at him, watching the stony set of his jaw that hadn't melted away since the dispensary. It was starting to set his smirk askew and she hated it. "I think we should name him."
That sent the muscle in his jaw trembling. "Why?"
"He was here," Maka shrugged. "He didn't get the life he deserved, so at least maybe a good name."
His sigh was more like a low breath, trying to keep everything in his mind in check. "OK."
"Did you have any in mind?" Maka touched her fingertips to his chin, hoping that would bring his eyes down but they remained focused. Instead, she played with the stubble there.
"Maybe." His jaw was relaxing ever so slightly as her fingers ran under it.
"What about… Spencer?"
Soul grunted.
"Mark."
"Boring."
"Aiden."
"Lame."
Maka stopped the stroke and replaced it with a hard poke, setting his teeth together. "Well? You think of one."
"Dean."
"Eh," Maka laughed softly, "And are we talking like James Dean? You're too predictable. Leather jacket, motorcycle."
Soul snorted. "Oliver."
"Now you're just messing with me," Maka poked again. "Pick a real one."
"Jack."
"That's so plain," Maka groaned.
"But you'll like the reason for that one." Maka was not only intrigued by the set-up but by the fact he'd strung together more than four words. Soul's eyes finally drifted down to her, a hint of amusement twinkling from the scarlet. "It's from a book I read."
Maka let a smile stretch across her lips, a secret prayer that she'd see it reflected in his face."What? The biography of Jack Nicholson? Who I do not want our child named after, thank you."
"No, fiction," he did offer her the smallest of smiles, a sixteenth of a Soul smirk. "The Talisman."
"A Stephen King book?" Maka started up on her elbow.
"Maka, slow, you're still-" The swift movement shut the latch again as Soul's hand went to her stomach before shooting back as if it had touched a hot flame. "Sorry."
Maka grabbed for the airborne hand that had just touched at the disappeared swell. "Sorry for what?"
"Your stomach, I shouldn't," he murmured as his eyes went back to the slats, his wrist going limp in her hand.
Maka tugged his hand the first few inches easily but felt him tense as soon as she tried to pull it further than her chest. "Do you think it bothers me?"
"Doesn't it?"
"No," Maka shook her head firmly as she forced him the rest of the way, pressing his resistant fist against her stomach. "It's different, sure, but it's a stomach, Soul. I've filled it with food more times than you or I can count, I flop on it when I'm settling down to read, you used to tease at it sometimes before letting your hand drift lower." She felt his fingers unfurl, tensing over the fabric of her nightshirt. "Now, tell me about Jack."
Soul took a deep breath as his eyes drifted down to his settled hand. It's just a stomach, he had to reiterate to himself, and it was. Just a flat, waiting to be toned with training stomach. "Jack's scared but brave enough when it counts. He loves his friends but he still struggles with treating them right. He does the best that he can, and in the end, he saves what needs saving."
Maka hummed thoughtfully. "OK, Jack. Jack Evans."
"Jack Albarn," Soul quickly corrected. "We're taking your last name."
She eased the rest of the way up to sitting but her back leaned against his legs to keep herself practically in his lap, her arm coming to the other side of him to plant near his hip. "We?"
"Me, too." Soul slid his hand from her stomach up to her neck to cradle right under her chin. "Please."
"That makes it sound like we're married," she murmured.
"Don't think we have to be." Soul could feel the ache in his mouth and in his heart as the smile started. It felt unfair to smile, but if there was one thing he should give to her, he was starting to feel like that was it. "Can just be a reminder that you'll always choose me. I'll always choose you."
"You almost didn't, Soul," Maka's reminder didn't come gently, even with that quality to her voice. "And I'm trying to give you time, space, but since we got home I've been scared-"
"Don't be," his grip tightened ever so slightly before bringing her closer. The kiss was exactly the punctuation that statement needed, a possessive pull on her lips that tore the worry right from her mouth. "I'm sorry. It hurts, and I'm hurting, but I have to stop forgetting. I know that and I'm fucking working on it, but I'll always choose you."
Maka stole a few more kisses before sighing out a shaky breath. "What are we going to do about this room?"
Soul wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her the rest of the way into his lap. It was a strange thawing like his muscles were finally easing back in the vicinity of normal and he found himself compelled to press his face into her hair, kissing her temple. "We'll figure it out when you're a hundred percent."
"You just want to make sure I have to move stuff," she grumbled.
His soft chuckle reverberated against her ear, sending a thrill down her spine. He enhanced that tingle as he pressed his lips by her ear and whispered, "I love you."
"Love you." Maka relaxed as she enjoyed the safe pressure of his arms, his steady breath against her neck. She tried to remind herself that this was the only constant life could afford her so far and as long as she had him there was something at least close to solid ground under her feet.
