Author's Note: I decided the part I was going to leave out should be in here, so here you go! Witchcraft seemed like it had more science in it and, though most of the basics are covered in Witchcraft so I can't do them again here, I didn't want to leave it out entirely. It is my belief that Crona, given a chance, would have to be very smart as the child of Medusa, and doing science has always been very empowering for me. That, and I felt it was important that dangers inherent to the Panacea have been obvious and are being recognized. Again, this is based on my experiences, and when I'm trying to dodge the symptoms or onset of a mood episode, sometimes I do things I know are bad for me in the long run. I wanted to get across that when you're trying to outmaneuver your illness it gets easier to justify whatever means seem necessary, to the point of being obtuse. Sometimes you can even persuade other people, especially if no one knows how bad the consequences will be. Also, heads up, the last paragraph is rather steamy. Thanks again to Guest for the review! And thank you to all readers; I know I tend to write content that's maybe an acquired taste and I appreciate you sticking with me. Hope you're enjoying the story! Have a pleasant read!
Crona couldn't rightly say what he was experiencing, he had no idea Vera was there blocking the Panacea, so from his perspective, it came out of nowhere. One minute he was watching the Panacea glow in his lab, the next lightheadedness hit him square in the face with surprisingly physical force, sending him reeling until his back collided with his chair. His neck snapped back, his wide eyes watching the ceiling as it swam before the motion was too much for his stomach, which churned dangerously. This is bad, he thought, bringing his chin to his chest and rolling out of the chair and onto the floor. I need to get to Maka's blood. I need to make sure it's not Madness. But he didn't make much progress crawling across the floor to the entryway before the pain hit. Again, surprisingly physical, like small rocks pushing their way through his veins. The Black Blood, clotting out of the blue. Hardening against his will, reacting half-heartedly to a danger that wasn't there. Or at least, to a danger he couldn't perceive.
"Ragnarok," he choked out, curling into a ball on the frigid floor and wishing for it to stop. "Ragnarok! What's happening?"
"Finally," spat the weapon, erupting from between his shoulder blades with such force Crona cried out, making fists and holding them to his eyes. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be cooped up inside your body while you let that thing fuck with your mind?"
"Ragnarok!"
"Yeah yeah, chill your tits. It'll pass in a second, just calm down and breathe."
"What is it?"
"The fuck did I just say? Breathe you moron!"
Crona, seeing little alternative to the weapon's suggestion, tried to redirect his focus away from the pain of having an army of stone marching through his body. Shakily, he panted through his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing the agony away. And after a moment that felt far too long, the pain started to comply. First the Black Blood relaxed, easing its passage through his body, then ominous cramping in his gut started to lessen. He became aware of the floor's cold, of his cheek pressed into it, and of Ragnarok pounding softly on his mid-back. Trying to be helpful he guessed. Finally he'd relaxed enough that the demon sword saw fit to announce that he was healed.
"There! You see, you're fine. Now get up and go home!"
He did his best to comply, but felt so woozy that he barely made it to his knees before toppling over again, curling up on his side on the ground and moaning.
"Or not," sighed Ragnarok, exasperated. "Fine, just lie there in the dirt like an idiot, it's not like it's dinner time or anything. But just so you know, I will eat your portion if you get there too late. I'm sick of this skipping dinner crap."
"What happened Ragnarok," Crona asked again, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Why do I feel so horrible all of a sudden?"
"It's nothing I didn't tell you was gonna happen if you messed around with that shit over there." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Panacea. "It's bad news. The Black Blood doesn't like what it's doing."
"But," he protested, palming his forehead and doing his best to focus over the continued whirling in his head. "It's not doing anything. Not to me."
"What are you, stupid?" Ragnarok's fist met Crona's skull with a merciless crack and he cried out again, gripping his hair with both hands now. "Of course it's doing something to you! Why do you think the Black Blood revolted?! You think it gets bored like I do? No! It's protecting itself- protecting you. It saw an opening and it took it to send you a memo."
"What do you mean "an opening," an opening in what?"
"In that dumb rock's, I don't know what to call it, influence. Something broke the connection and the Black Blood activated on its own. You know as well as I do that it's never done that before. Aren't you freaking out yet? Don't you want to call this all off?"
"No," said Crona decisively, sliding a hand over his eyes and gritting his teeth. "Not I don't want to call it off; I want to keep going. If the Black Blood is reacting defensively that means the Panacea is doing something to suppress it. Which in turn means I was right: it can cancel out my Madness. Make me normal. But you're right, the Black Blood's never done anything like this before and that does worry me."
"You should be way past worried."
"The piece I have," he continued analytically, as if he hadn't heard Ragnarok's admonishment. "Is very weak. It's still emitting, the energy is just so miniscule we can't detect it. We knew that much, we just assumed it couldn't affect an organic system as a result. The fact that we were wrong means the potency of this Panacea is beyond our greatest hopes. We have to be able to measure the emissions to determine the mechanism though, which we can't do with what I have. It's been separated from the main fungus for too long. We need a fresh sample to move forward."
"What you need is to get your head checked out! Get a fresh chunk? After seeing what this mummified scrap can do? You've gotta be fucking insane! And I suppose you're gonna keep this little incident to yourself, pretend like it never happened? Because I know the Reaper sure as shit isn't going to go along with this."
"No Ragnarok, I know better than that. I know I can't pretend this didn't happen, even though that would make things easier. As soon as I can stand I'm going to see Professor Stein for a blood test and tell him everything that just happened. And I am going to be more careful, I have to be. They'll make me stop if I'm not careful. But I think you're underestimating just how important this research is. Can you imagine? A world where there's a treatment for Madness, where witches don't have to worry about the Pull?"
"You think you're so smart, but if this shit's so awesome why hasn't it been done before? This thing is stronger than you; you shouldn't fuck with it! Your own mom ditched it, and that bitch wasn't scared of anything. And something else, you're treating the Black Blood like a disease that needs to be cured but it's not. It's who you are. Don't you get that?"
"That's easy for you to say! You don't care if we get out of control, you don't care if people get hurt! To you it's all just a game but it's my life!"
Crona's breath caught in his throat and he choked on it, gasping. Ragnarok didn't answer and for a moment there was only the sound of Crona panting. When he'd calmed down he planted both hands on the floor and pushed himself to his feet. Wobbling, he made his way to the door, slipping the crystal with Maka's blood around his neck and holding it to his chest. It felt warm and heavy, but not hot, not alarming, and that calmed the anxiety he'd been trying to ignore.
"I won't let it control me," he said slowly. "I won't let it take over again. If I have to break the natural order to ensure it, then I can deal with that."
Crona wasn't sure if he was still suffering the effects of his earlier incident or if he was a new and exciting kind of terrified. He'd gotten to Professor Stein's as quickly as he could and let loose a torrent of explanations before he'd even crossed the threshold. The professor, wearing a robe that looked eerily similar to his lab coat and still smoking, had responded by bringing him in, taking a blood sample while chastising him for putting on his pendant and contaminating the results with Maka's Anti-Magic Wavelength, then called Lord Death and set up a meeting. For that same night. Now, maybe an hour after he'd collapsed in his lab he was trembling in the artificial daylight of the Death Room. Generally he felt like he was holding it together, then when Maka and Soul came over the last step and entered the room he felt his whole body quiver. He left Professor Stein's side and went to Maka, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her shoulder.
"It's okay," she soothed instinctively, running her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck. "You're okay. Can you tell me what's going on?"
"An excellent place to start!"
Crona flinched violently at the nasal, childlike voice which beguiled a very serious intent, releasing Maka and turning to face him. Lord Death towered above him, angular and comic, holding a steaming mug of coffee that was about one fourth the size of his white fingers. His eyes were pits of darkness that could've held anything and Crona, feeling he had somehow done something wrong, shrank away from them. But when he spoke his voice was gentle and encouraging, allowing the pink haired meister to relax just a little.
"Now Crona, I understand you had an incident just a little while ago in your lab. I'd like to hear what happened from you first, if you're up to it."
Maka's hand slid down his arm and she interlaced her fingers with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. His shaking lessened, like she was holding him still, and the warmth in her hand and around his neck emboldened him enough to turn and face Lord Death directly. Swallowing hard, he tried to keep his voice analytical.
"I was working with the Panacea- not doing experiments, just... looking at it. And thinking. And suddenly I got really dizzy. The Black Blood started to harden, but not smooth like usual, like rocks inside me. Ragnarok said it was because of the Panacea, that the Black Blood was trying to protect me from it. When I got to the quartz with Maka's blood it didn't feel hot or anything, so I don't think I was out of control, or even experiencing Madness at all. Still, the Black Blood activated on its own and that's never happened before."
"Have you experienced any other ill effects since starting work with this Panacea which might've foreshadowed this event? Even little things you didn't think worth mentioning before."
"I-" Maka squeezed his hand sharply and gave him a pointed sideways look that made him shrink. "When I work with the Panacea I don't feel hungry or tired or anything, then when I'm away from it I have headaches. I thought I was just excited and exhausted, that the cold of my lab kept the headaches away, and I still think that. It's gotten better since I've been spending more time outside the lab."
"And away from the Panacea," Lord Death pointed out, subtle but firm. Firm enough to cause Crona to wince.
"It's emitting no measurable signal! We didn't think it could affect a complex organic system, Professor Stein and me both!"
"Crona is correct there," Stein interjected, coming to Crona's defense through a haze of cigarette smoke. "We both made the assumption this fragment is weak and non-hazardous to people. Could we have been wrong? Yes. But is it not also possible that Crona's symptoms are the result of over enthusiasm? I have forgotten to eat for the duration of many projects."
"So you're saying we should just dismiss this," snapped Maka, who was secretly feeling rather validated by the incident.
"No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying we should be careful with how we diagnose the situation. We have successfully shown even this small, desiccated scrap of the Panacea is capable of shifting ethereal wavelengths, a feat previously thought restricted to Soul Resonance. That is both dangerous and exciting. I think Crona would agree with me when I say this project has too much potential to be terminated after one mysterious incident."
"Now now, Professor, don't jump to any conclusions," Lord Death chided gently, taking a sip from his coffee and looking as pleased with it as one can without a face. "We're not talking about terminating the project just yet; however, this is serious business. Crona is not a test subject, he is a student at this academy and under my protection. The agreement was that these experiments would be conducted in the safest manner possible and it is starting to seem to me that they are decidedly not safe. There has been a progression towards carelessness in interacting with the Panacea which seems very unlike Crona and that concerns me. I'm starting to wonder if I've only been getting half the story in your progress reports, Crona."
Crona went pale and opened his mouth to protest, then fear caught in his throat, silencing him. Instead his already tight body went absolutely rigid, curling away from Lord Death while trying to hold itself still. His breath rasped in his throat, coming out in short pants through his nose. Maka readjusted her grip on his hand and moved closer, reaching out with her soul. Lord Death, of course, noticed everything.
"This is not an accusation. Come Crona, I don't think you would lie to me on purpose. In fact I think you believe everything you've told me in all your reports and that this Panacea is truly harmless. What concerns me is this new manifestation of the Black Blood and that Ragnarok, who is more in-tune with the Black Blood, said it was an attempt to protect you. Given you and the Black Blood are one being, a being in conflict but one nevertheless, I am inclined to believe any attempt on it's part to "protect" is sincere. So I would like to hear the opinions of those who have not had much contact with the Panacea. Let's start with you, Soul."
"If you're asking about my scar," he started carefully, palming his chest. "On the surface I would say nothing out of the ordinary's been happening. The occasional pinching when Crona's in the lab, that sort of thing. But if I think about it harder… it does feel… tight. That's the best way I can describe it. Usually it's pain or nothing but lately there's this building tension. I didn't feel much earlier, though. But my scar responds to Crona's Madness and he says he wasn't experiencing Madness, that Maka's blood was cool, so I guess that's not too weird. If this Panacea is doing something, I don't think it's enhancing or triggering his Madness, but that's all I can tell you."
"I don't think it's an "if" at all," Maka cut in before anyone had a chance to respond. "I'm sorry, but Crona's been different since he started this project, not just "overenthusiastic." He's doing better now, but before, in that first week, he was cutting class! He barely slept but in the lab he was energetic, giddy almost, moody, and bordering on irresponsible sometimes. That's not like him. What if this Panacea is capable of affecting more than just magic? We've been treating it like it's harmless but I think it's not."
"Have you noticed anything concrete," probed Lord Death, taking another sip of coffee and watching Crona pull his hand from Maka's so he could grab his arm. "You have a uniquely sensitive Soul Perception, have you noticed a shift?"
Maka opened her mouth to bark out an affirmation, then her brain caught up with her body and she closed it again, setting her teeth. Had she noticed a shift in Crona's behavior? Absolutely. In his soul? She looked sideways at him and their eyes met for the briefest moment before he turned away, deeply self-conscious. Around his neck the quartz with her blood glinted in the artificial daylight, vibrantly red and breathing like it was a part of her. It reached inside him, to the many wavelengths contained in his body, and entwined itself with his soul. Shielding it from the magic and Madness that once held influence, maintaining it in its native form. That's how she understood it and now, as she looked past his squirming discomfort and into the place where his soul resided, that's what she saw. There was no evidence of what she knew to be true.
"No," Maka finally sighed, looking away and allowing Crona to sigh with relief. "I don't sense anything, not now and not when we were in the lab. But that does not mean nothing's wrong!"
"I see," Lord Death said cryptically. "Professor Stein, when will we know the results of the blood test?"
"The results are contaminated," Stein mumbled, pulling on his cigarette. "Maka's Anti-Magic Wavelength would've swept away most of the evidence of magic and Madness by the time Crona got to my lab. More thorough examination will take time. We do have one result: Crona reports that the pendant did not get hot when he put it on. This indicates that whatever happened was not a function of either magic or Madness, at least not in a form that would've aggravated Maka's Anti-Magic Wavelength. Nevertheless, it is apparent that something did happen. We must discover it's nature, whether it is an artifact of the research or exhaustion."
"Quite right Professor. Which leaves me with only one more person: Crona, I need to speak to Ragnarok."
"No! No, you can't," Crona squealed instinctively, clutching at his arm and shrinking back. "He's- he's- Lord Death, I can't control what he says. I can't-"
"Crona," Lord Death cut him off gently, draining his coffee and setting the cup delicately on the side table by the mirror. "This is not a request. I know you've been holding him back this whole time; I'm not entirely insensitive to magic, even the kind not intended to destroy. Let him speak to me. I'm interested in his take on events."
Looking around desperately and finding sympathy but no support, Crona tightened his lips over more protests and resigned himself to the inevitable. Slowly. When Ragnarok finally did burst from his back it was more violent than usual, like he was a great pressure that had been released. Grumbling a string of profanity, the weapon gave Crona an audible thump on the top of the head and addressed Lord Death.
"So you're not half as dumb as that getup makes you look. What a relief! I've been saying this shit's a bad idea from day one but does anyone listen to me? Not once!"
"Ragnarok," Crona ineffectually scolded under his breath, curling away from Lord Death even further, almost doubling over as if in physical pain.
"We're interested now," said the Reaper, ignoring Crona's admonishment and obvious displeasure to speak to the Demon Sword. "Please, if you would be so kind as to share your thoughts on the Panacea research."
"Psht, "if I would be so kind." What is this, a fucking tea party," Ragnarok mocked, bold enough to make Maka go pale with indignant rage and Soul to raise his eyebrows up into his hair, hoping the meeting wouldn't come to blows. "I was gonna tell you anyway, that thing is bad news. It gets inside Crona's head and whispers and he just sits there like a total moron letting it happen!"
"It doesn't "whisper" Ragnarok," Crona exclaimed. "It's emitting no measurable signal! It shouldn't be able to affect complex systems!"
"But it did, didn't it," Ragnarok spat back, giving him another wallop on the head. "That's why Mr. Clown Face over there is suddenly interested in my opinions, because the Panacea slipped up and the Black Blood used the opening to give you a message you couldn't ignore."
"There have been no messages, no warnings! It's really promising work!"
"I agree, Crona," Professor Stein cut in. "This is promising work; however, we both need to take a step back and look at this more objectively. I saw nothing unusual in your work with the Panacea, but if I admit my bias, if I view you as yourself and not another version of me, then you have been behaving erratically. According to Maka's description you're almost manic when you work with the Panacea. Reflect with a clear mind, have you been yourself when you're working?"
"What a stupid question, of course he hasn't! That thing gets in his head and it wants to stay there; it's studying him as much as he's studying it! Did you even know you're the one keeping the Black Blood from reacting, huh Crona? Did you know you're the one keeping it from interfering?"
"No I'm not," Crona said in a small, defensive voice. "I wasn't doing that, I don't even know how."
"You sure as shit were! You spent hours looking at that thing and it never occurred to you that it was looking back? Something disrupted it, you dropped your guard, and the Black Blood revolted. I don't know what it's doing but your body does not approve!"
"There is no evidence-" Crona yelled, throwing out his hands as if to proclaim it to the universe.
Then he caught himself, inhaling sharply and looking at the faces around him, at the varying degrees of shock and disappointment. His expression fell, his fingers curling, and slowly, as if moving through water, he pulled his arms back to his side, reaching across his chest to grab his own elbow. Hugging himself.
"I have been manic," he whispered. "Increased energy, enhanced mood, no need for food or sleep, impulsive and careless and… irritable. It did start when I started work on the Panacea, it does get better when I'm away from it. Maybe that rock is to blame. Maybe I have been holding the Black Blood back, subconsciously keeping it from interfering with my experiments. Maybe it does whisper to me. I'll admit to these things."
For a moment they thought that was it, that he'd given up and resigned himself to judgment. Maka made a step towards him, reaching out to provide comfort, but paused when she caught a whiff of something all too familiar. Defiance. Determination. He dropped his arm and curled both hands into fists, looking up at Lord Death with an indignant frown.
"But I am not delusional. My results are real and they are promising and they could change the world as we know it. We can't abandon the project, even though it's apparent that what we have now is having undesirable side effects. Instead, we need to find a fresher sample of the Panacea."
"Oh god not this shit again," groaned Ragnarok loudly. The room acted as if he hadn't spoken, silently watching Lord Death for his reaction.
"Go on Crona," he encouraged after a moment, gesturing to a chalkboard on the far edge of the room. "Explain."
Crona jiggled his head in affirmation, apparently a little stunned by his own boldness and by the fact that it had worked. He went to the chalkboard and pulled it to a more central location, using the rag hanging off the top corner to wipe away the previous meeting's residue. Then he picked up a long cylinder of white chalk and began making diagrams.
"Lets address particles that behave like waves as wavelengths, as well as more traditional waves. And lets have all of these models describe soul wavelengths, magical wavelengths, etc. There are two natural ways to alter a wavelength," he started, drawing two sinusoids that represented wavelengths. In front of one he drew a line and on top of the other he drew an opposing squiggle.
"One is to pass the wavelength through a medium that either refracts it or absorbs it. In the case of refraction the wavelength is altered by virtue of passing through the medium, like light passing through a crystal. If the wavelength is absorbed it can undergo an energetic transformation inside the medium, a red shift or a blue shift, which generates and emits an elongated or compressed wavelength, like an LED. The other is through constructive or destructive interference, where another wave with the same or opposite frequency overlaps with the first wave. Think of soul resonance as a constructive interference interaction where the weapon and meister bring their souls to the same frequency and overlap them, creating a unified wave with double the amplitude and power. And then Maka's Anti-Magic Wavelength, I think, is a destructive interference. It interacts with a magical wavelength at the opposite frequency, so when the two overlap they cancel each other out. Or at least, the one with the smaller amplitude is subtracted from the larger amplitude. Does that make sense?"
Most of the room gave dignified nods of understanding with the exception of Soul, who was finding his foundation in basic wave mechanics to be lacking. Instead he gave Crona a thumbs up and an enthusiastic grin that he hoped was encouraging. Crona returned a little smile through his pink hair before continuing.
"We know the Panacea alters magical wavelengths because of our experiments with the soul-sucking water, and we know these effects are entirely dependant on proximity from the same experiments. The mechanism is unknown because we cannot measure any emissions from the Panacea fragment, only it's effects on other systems. But from the theories of alchemy we can assume it is synthetic, thus less bound by the laws of nature and liable to be more potent than any of our natural examples. From what I've observed I propose the Panacea combines the two ways a wavelength can be altered. It emits something, like the interference model, but if it was strictly interference it wouldn't change the frequency, only the amplitude. We see a shift in frequency, like when the wavelength is passed through a medium. This would be a very complex mechanism, especially for something that seems to have no inner workings. The Panacea is described by other witches as being fungal in nature, so it stands to reason that its functionality is dependant on the state of its organic matter.
"I propose that the piece we have is… malfunctioning. I think it's been separated from the main body for at least 8,000 years and that time has caused it to break down and misfire. If we could go to the original Panacea and obtain a fresh sample, it might be strong enough for us to at least measure the emissions and determine a hazard level. That, and if the Panacea is still… alive, it may be performing its function more accurately."
"Or it could be that the desiccated sample you have now is still perfectly accurate in it's function," Lord Death drew a separate conclusion, holding his chin and cocking his head. "Professor Stein, what's your opinion on all this?"
"Crona is making generalizations and oversimplifying some very complex topics to the point of inaccuracy." Stein's voice hit Crona in the back like an arrow and his chest collapsed, his long fingers returning the chalk to its place with exaggerated care. "But overall the theory is interesting. There's nothing to say that the main body isn't just as desiccated; even so, just having a larger sample may be sufficient to produce a signal which we can measure. That sort of data could give us a mechanism and a spectrum of effects. At minimum we could classify the hazard level and determine safe working conditions. This is assuming we can find the main body at all. But something tells me that won't be overly difficult, am I right, Crona?"
"I know," he said meekly to the chalkboard. "I know where it is. I've known for a while now, but I haven't known how to ask to go, or if we needed to. Lady Medusa didn't go there herself, she took the Panacea fragment and location from another witch's lab, one that had been abandoned. It's South, in Argentina."
"Professor, is there anyway this can be done safely? No one is to go searching for the Panacea without sufficient protective equipment."
"Wait," snapped Ragnarok, tugging on Crona's hair incredulously. "You're actually considering this?!"
"The short answer is no," said Stein, pinching out his cigarette and putting it in his pocket. "We don't know what the Panacea is emitting, so we cannot be certain of how to shield ourselves from it."
"The only answer is no! Burn what you have and leave this Panacea shit alone!"
"And the long answer," asked Crona, cautiously hopeful as he turned to face the group again.
"The long answer," he continued with a grin. "Is that a small team could be outfitted with wide spectrum protection that will most likely insulate against the Panacea as well."
"Hmm, that's not a guarantee, now is it Dr. Stein. I will need to think on this for a little longer, but for now, assume you five will be going to Argentina in… let's say two days. Will that be sufficient time to make preparations?"
"More than sufficient."
"And Crona," Lord Death called, immediately dampening the pink haired meister's sense of victory. "If you get there and any level of danger is present, or if you get your sample back and it is determined to be overly hazardous, I will terminate this project. You will dispose of all samples, desist experiments on or with the Panacea, and that will be the end of it. Is that clear?"
"Yes Lord Death," Crona said, chewing on his lip and giving the Reaper a resigned look. "I understand."
"I'm sorry…"
Crona's soft voice caught her off guard and, though she was too battle hardened to outright jump, Maka had to admit her heart rate picked up a little. Fortunately, her back was to him; he couldn't see her expression tense and then darken. Thankful for the moment, she paused, pulling the brush through her hair slowly and licking her lips. In all honesty she knew what he meant and wasn't entirely sure an apology cut it. But at the same time she couldn't hold it against him. Or she could've misread the situation entirely.
"For what," she bluffed, continuing to brush her hair and not look at him. Blankets rustled as he shifted on the bed, moving to the edge.
"For convincing Lord Death we should go after the Panacea. I know you think we shouldn't, that we should leave it-"
"I never said that," she said defensively, setting the brush down with a click and turning to look at him. He met her hard emerald stare with soft grey eyes, unfazed by her barbs.
"You don't have to say it," he mumbled, letting his gaze drop to the floor before bringing it back up to hers. "You've made your opinions on the research clear. And… you're not wrong, no matter how much I wish you were. The Panacea is dangerous in a way we don't understand. But Maka-"
"Crona," she cut him off again, raising her hands and sighing. "You don't have to say it, I understood the first time. We're not going to change each other's minds on this; if you're going to pursue the Panacea, and I'm not saying you shouldn't, you'll have to do it without my approval. I know that's hard for you and I'm sorry."
"You're right, it is hard," Crona whispered after a long moment. "I want so much for you to see things the way I do, to tell me what I'm doing is the right thing. Even though everything I know is telling me this is how I escape the Pull and Madness, without your approval I feel afraid. That doesn't matter though, you shouldn't have to apologize for the way you feel. I should be sorry for making you feel like you had to."
Maka smiled at him, tilting her head and evaluating his form. Lean, angular, slender hands folded in his lap as if in prayer. He looked resigned and a little sad, pink hair falling in uneven locks across his large eyes. Yet without knowing it he'd gotten so strong, so aware of his own needs while still caring for the needs of others. Even though he was actively disregarding her desires with regard to the Panacea, he hadn't disregarded her. Maka was feeling loved and proud and that it had been a long time since they'd been both alone and relaxed together. A long time since… She found her eyes lingering on his lips and blushed a little. Then she decided she had no reason to blush and that she should give it a shot while they could. Getting up from the vanity bench, she made her way over to the bed. Picking up his hands to a) hold them and b) get them out of the way, she slowly slid her thighs across his and settled in his lap. He started and looked up at her, now confused but not uninterested.
"Thank you," she said, taking one of his hands in each of hers and interlacing their fingers. "For taking my feelings into account. I appreciate that you value my opinion and I respect that you're going against it. More than that, I'm happy for you. Yes, I don't like the Panacea, and I'm not excited to go after it, but look at yourself Crona. You're standing on your own, fighting for what you believe even against the people you care about all while continuing to care about them. Every step you take just amazes me more; I don't know how I got to be so lucky as to have you wanting to be with me."
"So," Crona breathed, looking at their hands and then back to her with a little smile. "You're not angry with me?"
"Do I seem angry," she teased, leaning forward and blowing across his lips.
He didn't answer with words. Instead he caught her off guard, leaning in and locking their lips together. Maka was not alone in her observation that it had been a while and as she pressed her hips into his he started to come alive beneath her. She noticed, smiling into their kiss as she pushed him back onto the bed. Her hair fell around his face and her tongue swirled around in his mouth before she darted away. Crona made it easy with his black nightgown, which she pushed up over his thighs and bunched around his waist, and lack of underwear. Between his legs there was the preludes to dampness, the large ellipsoidal organ that wasn't so different from hers just starting to swell with blood. She took a short break to remove her own pajama pants and underwear before orienting herself over Crona on the bed. Bringing her tongue to him, she drove her hips downward over his face. Understanding instantly, he grasped at her greedily and together they made each other ready.
