Special announcement: I actually took the leap and became part of the fandom (special thanks to Zi) because while I'm definitely a SoMa fan I'm also sort of a Hobbit so... but I'm pumped! I love this community and I think some of my readership is a part of it? so thank you, everyone! This is great :)

Soul slumped into the seat, waving his list like a surrender flag. "I think I finished it."

"That's good to hear, but…"

He lifted his eyebrows in reply.

"Your captain called me today…" Mira tilted her head to finish the sentence, waiting for his voice to fill in the blank.

"Don't know about what," he grumbled in reply but the clench of his fist was enough of a tell for Mira.

Mira paused long enough to tap her pen into her pad a few times. "She said you accompanied a certain person at work today."

His other fist followed, denting the side of his list with a crinkle that burned in his ears. "Since when isn't it part of procedure for a cop to be there for an interrogation?"

"When it's the woman you love doing the interrogating," Mira answered calmly. "And when it puts you in a situation that could quite possibly bring up another certain memory of yours that you refuse to talk about."

"Look," Soul breathed out evenly. "I don't refuse to talk about it. There's just no point."

"Then if I asked you, you'd explain what happened?" Mira's sweet lilt of innocence raised his hackles even higher, leaving crescent moons punched in Soul's palms.

"I'm sure there's a file on it," he grumbled.

"Yes."

"And not like you don't have Marie in your ear already," that edged even rougher from his throat.

"Yes," Mira tapped again, "but I want to hear it in your words."

Soul forced his fingers open, the paper drifting to the couch as the blood rushed back into his knuckles. There was a lock and a key, one in his chest and one in his hand and he had told himself they wouldn't meet again, that opening that just left a door open to a darkness that wasn't him, wasn't safe for her, and… his voice trembled from his lips, "I died, that's what Maka says."

"Your heart stopped, yes," Mira nodded.

"I think the doctor said blood loss," he shrugged weakly, shoulders just wobbling. "Didn't pay too much attention to a diagnosis, just…" Soul let a shaky hand fall to his shirt, untucking it as he displayed the start of a scar right above his hip. "My guts were out, right? That kid slashed down, hit me up here to here," he motioned towards his shoulder and let his hand slid just below his ribs, "that was just skin deep but after that downward momentum he brought a hell of a jab up, knife all the way in, tearing out my fucking guts." A trembling laugh followed as he dropped his shirt. "And all that's fine. Healed. Doc says he's shocked I can still digest regular food but apparently, I'm fucking immortal, right?"

"You're a man," Mira corrected softly. "And you died, or, really, almost did."

"Sure," he nodded shakily. "Is that it?"

Mira snorted a laugh, "No. That's the physical. What about the mental?"

"Nothing," he answered sharply.

"This doesn't work unless you put in work, Soul," Mira reminded.

Soul eased back, letting his head rest against the back of the couch, transporting himself back to the car, back to Maka yelling at him, back to that question she'd asked a million times and he hated more than popular hits on the radio. "I know it's not OK if I die." He waited for Mira to interrupt, to stop the snowflake before it became a blizzard. "I didn't want to die - actually, I was scared shitless - but it was me or Maka. That's not a choice that really takes that long in my head."

He let a desperate sigh ease out of his lips. "Wasn't the kid's fault, either. He's sick, hears voices or whatever, and it didn't help that his mom was a psychopath, manipulated him and told him it was all Maka's fault, that Maka had to go."

"So you don't hold a grudge?"

Soul snorted an easy laugh, "Hell no. Again, not his fault. Even Maka doesn't, and she can hold some fucking doozies. You know she visits him like once a month?" He tilted his head so he could catch Mira's reaction.

She barely did, just an almost imperceivable rise in her left brow. "Does that bother you?"

He blinked back up at the ceiling, "Dunno. Didn't think about it."

"But if you thought about it now…"

He let out a grunting sigh, "Dunno."

"Soul…"

"Fine," he huffed. "I… maybe I'm kinda jealous in a weird way."

"Of what?"

He tossed weak hands into his lap, "Because I'm totally not forgiven. You know those grudges I mentioned? Here's one of Maka's big ones: how dare I fucking try to die for her." Soul groaned pre-emptively, knowing the argument was about to come from Mira's lips just as it always came from Maka's. "And it's not like I blame her, I get it, watching me die probably wasn't so great but how can she not understand that my life means nothing without her here so of course I'm going to jump in front of a knife meant for her, or a gun, or whatever comes her fucking way because it's her."

"Because you've clearly explained that fact to her, right?"

Soul dropped his eyes to Mira just in time to see the amused smile pierce her lips. "Thought it was self-explanatory when I got my guts ripped out."

"Well, I guess that segues perfectly into your list," Mira motioned towards the paper.

His eyes darted over to the discarded, stained sheet, suddenly hesitating. "You wanna see it?"

Mira nodded slowly.

He sighed.

"Maybe you'd rather describe it?"

A secondary groan tumbled from his lips. "Look, I-" He grabbed the paper, crumpling it in his fist. "The list doesn't matter. I have to, right? It's bullshit to sit on it because… I want more. I admit that."

"That's good," Mira smiled but it wasn't for him, Soul's eyes still focused on the paper clenched between his fingers.

"I just… when?" He let out a trembling breath. "I tell her I love her the next time she fucks me? Or I just come out and say it over dinner if she'll even look me in the face because I pissed her off today and I…" His lip trembled and for a terrifying moment he felt the heat come to his eyes, that horrible threat of tears making his heart lurch. "I just want her to say yes," his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Say yes to what, Soul?"

That was an even muddier answer, one tangled so deeply that it'd choked fine lines into his heart. "That she sees me and that's still something she wants."

The apartment was quiet, filled with inky darkness except for the fine line of light under her doorway. Soul closed the front door behind him, letting a sigh out into the stretching hallway. He didn't cross his fingers for her door to open and instead moved into the kitchen to pour a glass of water before dialing the phone.

There were a few rings, almost enough to throw him into hopelessness before the click. "Oh, and to what do I owe this pleasure?" Liz chimed.

"Hey," he muttered. "Can you come over?"

"That sounded enthusiastic," her voice instantly dropped to a grumble with the sharp punctuation of a sigh. "I'm going to assume it's not for beer and pizza."

"Nope," he paused to gulp the water, trying to clear a passage for the words. "She's gonna need to talk and it can't be to me."

"What?" Liz asked softly, all playful pretenses dropped.

"I pissed her off today," he sighed. "I, uh… forgot how much she's hurtin' about the accident, too, but I'm… not up for it tonight, OK, Liz? But I don't want her sitting with it in her head."

"Got it," Liz expelled a long breath, heaving the rest of her opinion away. "I'll be right over."

"Just… tell her I went to Star's."

He almost hung up, the beat so long he was sure she'd just dove off, but an exasperated sigh kept the phone to his ear. "Soul…"

"What?"

"Have you ever…?" came sharply, the attitude he'd expected all along finally leeching back into her voice but cutting off quickly.

"What?" he repeated.

A sigh jumbled over the line. "It's stupid. I don't believe it."

"Don't believe what?" his fingers were tightening around the glass, possibilities already racing in his mind.

"Just… I think there's plenty of stuff that has to be cleared up between you two and while, yes, I'm coming over, no, I can't keep doing this forever."

Soul rolled his eyes only for the darkness to see. "Yeah, I get it."

"So do you really have to go to Star's?"

"Yeah," he replied weakly. "Tonight though. Just tonight and tomorrow I'm… I'm going to say something."

Maka lifted her head slowly, thoroughly prepared for some kind of annoyance. Honestly, her options were Star, again, probably complaining about not getting the Giriko interview even though that was barely a treat, or the man she was hopelessly in love with who had, like a complete and utter coward, not come home the night before. Teenage Maka, buried underneath the paperwork and the attempted rationality of grown Maka, was actually begging for the second option, sure that even though she wanted to punch that goofy smile in the face she was more than willing to see it if it meant she was seeing him.

Could I be more pathetic?

But neither was the result, instead, that tall, painfully angular man with jet black hair walked through the door without ceremony or permission. "Ms. Albarn, I heard you interviewed my client without council."

"You say that like I refused him council, Mr. Arana." Mosquito, in my office, what a joy! "But I can assure you that everything was done by the book."

Maka's sweetness fell flat on Mosquito's face. "My client said you brought along a detective…"

"Detective Sergeant Evans, yes." Maka bit at the inside of her lip to stop from expanding. Only absolutely necessary information.

"For what reason?"

"I was attacked this time last year on a case, Mr. Arana," Maka snapped back dryly. "So I have a tendency to bring an officer with me when I interview people outside of my office, is that a problem?"

Mosquito's lips puckered momentarily before he raised his eyebrows and a hand in innocence. "Of course not, Ms. Albarn. I was simply inquiring as to whether or not there were criminal charges that should be brought to my attention."

She feigned a fair amount of shock, "I would never dream of not informing you of legal proceedings."

A derisive little snort left Mosquito's lips. "Ms. Albarn-" his voice cut off as his head dipped over his shoulder.

Speak of the Devil…

Soul didn't peek in the door, nor did he temper his steps as he got into the room. He only paused for a moment, eyes flicking cooly to Mosquito before making his way to Maka's desk.

"And here he is now," Maka put Soul on display as he leaned towards her and placed one of the coffees in his hand in front of her. "Mr. Arana was concerned about whether or not we followed protocol the other day when we interviewed Mr. Saw."

Soul brought an aloof look back to Mosquito, "What? Want my badge number?"

Maka resisted the frown that wanted to come in reply before she gulped in a breath. "Is that all you wanted to speak to me about, Mr. Arana?"

"Actually," Mosquito perked a smile. "I got all the information I need."

"Then if you don't mind," Maka motioned towards the door before dropping her head back to the files on her desk, not acknowledging any further movement from either man. That didn't mean that Soul left her periphery, just standing at the edge of her desk with fingers tapping to the wood. It was an intense game of chicken and that foolish side of her was begging to lose, to look up at those red eyes and wish that they had something there for her. Instead, she focused on the letters that weren't making sense on the page, just a flurry of characters that didn't matter.

"You busy this weekend?"

"I don't know," she answered sharply, practically on the curl of his question mark.

"Will you go somewhere with me?"

Maka was still refusing to give in but the lines on the page wavered with the unsteady saturation in her eyes. "Where?"

"Just somewhere," came back softly.

She chewed on her lip, "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"OK," he folded easily and his hands left her desk, his feet moving him out of the corner of her eye.

Her eyes hit his back and all her mind could do was beg, even though her mouth wouldn't formulate the words. What's happening to us, Soul?

As if he'd heard her question he froze, his hand coming to the door of her office and shutting it softly. He turned, his eyes hitting her with a strike of lightning down her spine and his words murmuring like they were in her ear, "I know I'm a coward for saying this here. You're at work, so you can't yell at me, can't start a fight, and most likely won't cry so, yeah, Maka, I know I'm a goddamn coward."

Her lower lip trembled open but nothing came, no admonishment, half because he was right and the rest because that new look that she kept seeing in his eyes was back, that sweeping sadness.

"It's not OK if I die," he paused to suck in a low, slow breath and she noticed his hand was trembling against the doorknob behind him. "It's not, and I don't want to, and I haven't wanted to since we met. So don't think that. Stop thinkin' that." Soul let his hand swing back to his side, the momentum taking him a step back towards her. "I'm sorry that I made you think I was ever going to go back on my promise, Maka, but I'm always gonna be around. That hasn't changed."

Maka pressed her hand against her mouth as if she needed to catch the words but really there was no tide to stem. Her mind was empty except for those eyes and that faint memory of being in his old bedroom.

"So, I…" that trembled in his throat, his voice breaking and forcing him to clear his throat. "I want you to forgive me for doing that. Not for protecting you because I can't stop that, but for making you think that. Please."

"You can't always protect me," barely eked out of her throat, that old echo of every fight coming back to her.

"Yeah," came as a gravely whisper from his throat. "I'm trying to get that, Maka. I am. But that sure as hell doesn't mean I don't want to."

"I know." Maka let her hand slip away, revealing a sorry excuse for a smile. It was lopsided, pulled down by the weight of an argument that she realized she so desperately wanted to let go. "Is this… what you talked about with the doctor?"

His jaw tightened, an audible click echoing between them. "Well, yeah. I guess."

Maka tried to press the ugly feeling away, the grim, disjointed monster of betrayal. "Then it's helping?"

He waved a weak hand, "I'm trying."

"It looks like it," she murmured back.

A swallow clicked in his throat, "So, you think you can do that, forgive me, that is?"

She tilted her head, resting it on her palm as she leaned into her elbow. "I'm trying, too."

He nodded slowly, "OK."

"And I'm still thinking about this weekend," she murmured as she let her eyes fall to the coffee cup, her finger tapping against the plastic rim. "Bribing me with coffee doesn't change that, even if I did need this. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," he laughed weakly in return but she heard it end with a sigh. "I'll see you tonight."

Maka didn't offer an answer since none really fit at the moment, nothing could possibly encompass all the tumultuousness of wanting him to stay and go in the same breath. She wanted to pass it off again as a childish thing, that teenage want that had made her pine over him probably since the moment they met even though at first she stubbornly denied it, but as she watched his frame twist through the door, her mind couldn't help whispering. Is it childish to want to spend the rest of your life with him?