I stared at the clock until midnight before I slipped on my sweater and slowly paced around the room, looking for some sign of his life. Snooping wasn't in my usual repertoire, but it felt like I was edging closer to finding out some of the missing pieces about him. There wasn't a thing, the room just as devoid as I had originally seen and I couldn't stop the urge to continue, to drift through the house in search of more.

I tried to keep my footsteps quiet as I eased down the stairs. Their voices were loud enough that I could follow the tone but not the words towards the kitchen. Wes did the majority of the talking, Soul's steady voice coming in only at short bursts. The light was leaking into the dark hallway from the kitchen, their voices finally clarified down to the word in this closeness, but I paused at the edge of the light, pressing my back to the wall.

Of course, there was a lull as if to point out the idiocy of my snooping and I was ready to take another step when Wes cleared his throat. "Maka's very nice."

"She is," Soul's answer was slow.

There was another pause and I knew I should walk in, stop whatever this conversation was because I didn't deserve these answers and Soul was probably hating every moment.

"Are you two…?"

This answer came much quicker, "It's complicated."

The heat blossomed in my chest, burning a line to my cheeks and I wished that I could see the same on his own face.

"Mom's going to think-"

"Let her."

That was enough, especially in the face of this absurdly growing hope that I was nurturing. It was the normalcy of this versus demons, witches, and all other types of madness, that was twisting my feelings into knots and if he said one more thing about it I might burst and never be able to go back. As quietly as possible I pushed myself back down the hall and to the stairs, my heart pounding harder with each step. Complicated, a few rushed beats and then, let her, echoing on repeat in my head. Even when I made it back to the bed, the sounds wouldn't drown out and I found myself pressing my face into the pillow, counting the beats of my heart.

I counted forever until I felt the bed move. When I turned to look at him, Soul's eyes were focused on the ceiling, either not realizing I was still awake or not necessarily caring about that fact. The clock blinked something in the 2 AM range and the smell of beer was strong on his breath. I let my fingers crawl through the sheets until they brought my hand to his chest, feeling his sharp intake of breath as soon as our skin met. "Go back to sleep," he rasped.

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Sorry," he brought his free hand over his eyes, forcing them to close. "Should have known."

"Creature of habit," I laughed softly. Sleep rarely came to me in these strange places, missions or otherwise, but having him next to me was enough to at least bring on a little drowsiness. "Were you out with Wes?" It felt like a lie, asking a question I already knew the answer to.

He let his hand slip from his eyes, bringing it to rest over mine. "Just downstairs. Wouldn't leave you alone here."

"But you'll drink without me," I smirked.

That managed to elicit the ghost of a smile. "You hate beer."

"Still would have been more fun than laying in bed." I tapped my fingers on his chest, his hand moving to my wrist to allow for my nervous motion. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The pillow rustled as he turned his head, eyes still boring into me in the low light. "About what?"

There was a selfish flash across my mind, a delusional moment where my mouth formed the words about us. It passed and I murmured, "About your dad."

"He'll be fine or he won't," Soul offered stiffly.

I sighed, trying to stop my eyebrows from furrowing as the late-night frustration caught up with me. "It's hard, worrying about your parents' mortality." I paused to wait for his attack, or maybe even for him to turn his back and attempt to pretend to sleep, but instead, he blinked at me in the dark while his hand flexed a little tighter on my wrist. "I can't say I get it because it's been different for me. I knew Spirit could die since I was little. He doesn't exactly live a life where dying at the ripe old age of one hundred in his sleep is possible."

"I've been used to that way of thinking for a while, so when he's in danger or when he's hurt, I think I'm numb to it a little." I took a long breath, trying to push away the next emotion before I could feel it, just have it be words instead of the pain that it was. "But the first time I felt it, maybe I was five or six and it was gut-wrenching. Even though he wasn't dead, just knowing that he could be, that I might never be able to see him again was like all the air had been taken out of the room and I was suffocating."

Soul's eyes moved back to the ceiling, his breath coming out in a short cough. "Does it get easier?"

"Maybe." I hated having to be honest since everything in me screamed to soothe. "Like I said, I've gotten more numb to it but I'm not sure if that's me or if that's how the world works." I stopped the nervous tapping on my fingers to grasp at his shirt, trying to send a message to the skin beneath it. "But you're not alone. That makes it easier."

"Yeah," but the discomfort still reigned on his face. "Maka… thank you, you didn't have to but I wouldn't be able to… I need you here."

The heat rose on my cheeks and I was happy for the darkness, hoping it would hide away the change in color there. "Don't be stupid," it was close to a stutter. "Of course I'm here and you don't have to thank me, it's… we're partners." I tried to catch my breath, gulping at the air like while I was grasping for words that didn't seem to work. "But, I mean, in this kind of stuff, too. Not just fighting but…"

I could have sworn I heard a laugh, one of those just barely grunts of amusement, as he turned in the bed. I was frozen in place, my lips the only thing moving with a tremble as the words trailed away. Soul was easing into his usual spot, his cheek pressed against my collarbone as his arm slid around my waist. This was post-nightmare territory but he was wide awake, that drifting hint of malt on his breath as it warmed my chest.

Even as my soul reached for his I found the worry barely drifting there, just the residual anxiety that was a fraction of what had been lingering around Soul all day. Instead, I couldn't ignore what I was finding there, his feelings that were calling to me. I let myself think it, just for a moment, Soul is content in my arms.

The next morning I awoke by myself, a sensation that was starting to feel stranger than waking up next to him. He hadn't traveled far, just sitting on the edge of the bed, hands pressed into the sheets. "Soul?"

His eyes darted hesitantly over his shoulder at me before settling forward. "I'm sorry about last night."

The thought crossed my mind that I must still be sleeping because nothing from last night seemed to warrant an apology. "Last night?"

"I was drunk and I… you only do that with the nightmares and I didn't mean to make you…" There was a distinctive trembling in his voice and the terrifying thought he was crying crossed my mind.

"You didn't make me," I murmured, sitting up so I could reach for him, my fingers closing on his bicep. "Nothing happened last night that I didn't want." The heat rose on my cheeks as he slowly allowed himself to turn and look at me.

His eyes were wider than usual, his jaw working for a moment before his lips opened. "Maka, do you-"

The knock at the door abruptly cut his words.

It wasn't necessary but almost out of habit I pulled the sheet to my chest. "Come in."

The door creaked open and Wes just barely stuck his head in, his eyes tried not to trail the bed and settled quickly on Soul. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's fine," Soul stood and walked towards the door, obscuring Wes's view of me entirely and pushing the conversation almost out of the room. "What's wrong?"

"I was planning on leaving in an hour if you're interested."

"I'll be ready." There was a rustle and then Soul reappeared, closing the door behind him. He looked bewildered, his hands hanging limply at his sides.

I let the sheet fall from my clenched fingers. "Everything alright?"

"He hugged me," Soul murmured.

A laugh wanted to escape my mouth but I clamped it behind my teeth. With how much touching we'd done over the past week it was a strange memory to have to bring back the usual for Soul: holding was off-limits. "I mean with your dad."

"Oh." He moved to wrap his arms around himself. "I'm going to go over with Wes in an hour."

"I'll get ready, then." I started to get up from the bed, running my fingers through my hair before twisting it up in a messy bun. As I walked to the end of the bed he met me, his hand reaching out to hesitantly grab the fabric of my nightshirt. I paused, eyes focused on those tightly gripped fingers.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," came effortlessly because it wasn't even close to a lie.

He pulled at me, bringing my eyes up to his as the space between us disappeared. His eyes searched my face and for a breathless moment, I was sure this was it, the moment those teenage daydreams would be fulfilled with his lips pressed against mine. Instead, he got me close enough to wrap his arms around my shoulders, pressing my face against his shirt. This wasn't the same awkward hug he'd attempted with his mother as his fingers gripped into me as if trying to leech all the good feelings from my skin. "I'm sorry," his voice was a soft whisper against my ear.

"Again, I don't know why," I breathed back. I tried to focus on the fabric of his shirt, the intertwining threads rather than the euphoria that was starting to build in my chest. This wasn't the time or the place for that but I couldn't keep those emotions in check, the joy of the closeness swallowing me whole.

He left his fingers to answer, releasing the fabric of my shirt and gently gliding along my back, a slow shaky movement. I tried never to read him unless the explicit purpose was to soothe but I knew I was prying, trying to find the words he didn't want to say. For a moment, I thought I'd misread, that it was what I was feeling in reaction to searching since all I could find was shame. Without alcohol, without the night, he was ashamed to touch me.

That broke the spell, my hands coming to his chest to push him away from me as I tried to erase what I'd found from my mind. "I should get ready."

His hands were hovering uselessly at my sides and his fists started to clench as they fell back to him. "You should."

As I brushed past him I swore I could feel his hand still grasping for my shirt.

Regina was already outside the hospital, holding herself at the elbows as she watched the three of us come closer. The bags under her eyes were outshone by her smile, something I hadn't been able to see much of the day before. It was brilliant, overwhelmingly charming, and I wondered at how stunning she must have been as a girl. She embraced both of her sons in succession, Soul's hold continuing to improve with practice, and surprised me to no end by finishing with me. It shook me, not just because of the way she exuded the unexpected scent of lilac or because it'd been probably close to five years since that kind of maternal embrace was really mine to have, but more so because of the paralyzing wave of her emotions.

Sometimes, when a person is close to their breaking point, overcome to the point where their own mind can barely regulate themselves, it becomes almost completely unnecessary for my soul perception at all. I wondered if Soul had felt it since he wasn't necessarily attuned but usually at least had some of the residuals of my talent. It was there, the screaming hollowness to her smile, something I'd thought so beautiful now exposed as being barely better than gray.

When she released me I was breathless, desperately in want of his hand but finding myself unable to grab for him, the realization that he'd actively avoided my touch since this morning freezing me in place.

"You should all go in, visit for a while." Regina's hands came back to her elbows, smoothing along the fabric of her sleeves.

Wes planted a soft hand on her shoulder, "What about you?"

Regina shook her head as she replied, "Feeling a little stir crazy. I thought I'd stay outside for a bit, get some fresh air before going back."

"Alright." Wes leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before sending a look back to Soul. It was a domino effect, Soul's eyes then turned to me as if I were the final say.

"You two go ahead, I think I'll stay with Regina for a bit." His jaw worked before he turned his head back to his brother, obviously chewing on words. I turned my eyes to Regina, trying on a smile that wasn't half as bright as hers, "That is if you don't mind."

"I'd appreciate the company."

I didn't wait for any more niceties or glances from Soul before I turned, taking Regina by the arm and starting towards the brightest patch of sunshine that wasn't covered by concrete. It felt cowardly, running away from him like that, leaving him after I'd offered my support but regardless of what Soul was feeling I felt worse brewing in Regina. Even sustaining a touch now meant that I could hear the hum of Regina's woe, clearly laced with guilt. I was lost in it as they walked onto the grass, Regina pulling the two of us towards a series of benches.

There were a few other families, obviously taking breaks from the suffocating institution across the street. Regina brought us to an empty bench, sitting first and waiting with her hands in her laps until I sat down. "I'm afraid being alone leaves me liable to pry."

I pressed a hand to her lips to smother a laugh, pleased by the easy honesty. "Well, I'll tell you what I can, Regina."

She hugged at her elbows again, taking in a deep breath. "At the very least, could you tell me how he is? I don't think I've gotten a full answer to that question in almost ten years."

The question was beyond vague, a million possibilities for answers that no wonder Regina had never received a full one, but with Soul's usual complete lack of verbosity I couldn't imagine Regina even getting the beginning of an answer. Also, ten years meant that she hadn't gotten an answer since before Soul left, alienated before Soul even became the person I knew today. "He does alright at school, after a little prodding, that is, not really one for studying and loves to get sidetracked by a movie or his music."

"At least some things don't change," Regina smiled. "Is he still playing?"

"Well," I sighed, trying to think of the most mundane way to describe it, "The real piano not so much but with our work, he's used a lot music in a way."

Regina's sigh mimicked my own, her eyes darting along the other families moving around us. "I suppose I pushed him to play, that's why he doesn't keep up with it."

"No, it's not that," I let my hand tentatively touch her elbow. "He just doesn't have as much time as he used to. He's had to put in a lot of training, a lot of missions since he, well, I guess you could say he got a promotion." To Death's Last Weapon, though how to explain that in layman's terms escaped me.

"A promotion? You mean he's… doing well at work?" I could feel the warmth started to peel off her skin, the unabashed excitement at the prospect that Soul might be successful.

For a short second, I was jealous. I wondered if my mother ever reacted this way if Spirit ever told her things, or if she would if I had more than a five-minute phone call with her. "He's worked very hard and his skills are definitely brag-worthy." Death forbid he hear me say that or else I might never live it down.

Regina paused as if to let all the information settle, to calculate what next she could get out of the conversation. Her smile wavered a little before the next question left her lips, "And you, you work together?"

"He's been my partner just about since he came to school, yes." It's complicated shot into my head again and I willed it away too late, a blush starting to rise on my cheeks.

It was simple to tell that Regina had seen it, knew what I was saying without saying and the knowing smile that formed on her lips tortured me. "You seem like a good fit for him."

"I," came out as nothing more than a stammer, a hand coming to my cheek to try to hide anything else I was about to give away. Oh, Death, how I wanted to run in any direction, that was until I felt the shift beneath my fingers, the lull in her happiness.

"It's my fault, the way he is," she murmured.

All I could do was gape, feeling the guilt from before oozing from her.

Regina sighed and leaned back on the bench, her eyes moving away from me to trail back to the hospital. "We'd had Wes and by the time Soul came, I already felt like I was done raising children. Artie tried, but he was incredibly busy, and I remained mostly selfish. I treated him like he was grown as if the attention that he needed was simply intellectual, anything but the warm adoration a boy like him required." Her hand came to her chest, pressing into her sternum as if to stop a bleed from her heart.

"When his talent came out, I wanted nothing more than to help him forget it rather than embrace it, insisting that he could be normal," the last word came out of her mouth like bile as the self-hatred came off of her in waves. "He tried to tell me that it was something special but I refused to see it. It wasn't until he left that I realized my boy needed me to embrace it with him. When he got old enough to figure out he needed that school of yours, it was too late."

"Regina…" What else do you say? How do you comfort a mother convinced she'd ruined her own child, especially when you knew that child was far from alright with their relationship. "Soul hasn't, he's never…"

"Told you? I'm surprised." Regina's hand reached over to mine after unclenching it from the bench. "There's something about you that helps to loosen the tongue."

I didn't mean for it, but a scoff was all I could offer in reaction. There was nothing about me that elicited that from him and over the past few days I had been guilty of simply stealing the information.

"And I have a penchant for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. I'm sure Soul will tell you about that." Her fingers squeezed around mine. "And I'm sure this trip on its own has been burdensome without adding a mother's regrets."

I studied her for a moment, trying to decipher the rest of the feelings she was sending through our connected hands. I had always known Soul carried wounds with him, but I never imagined it, at least to outside eyes, seemed fixable. "Have you told him?"

"Since this is the first time he's been home, no," she sighed. "It doesn't strike me as appropriate phone conversation and even then he's liable to hang up on me as soon as the pleasantries are through."

This isn't your business anymore. You're falling into dangerous territory if you're planning on interfering.

All of that screamed continuously in my mind until Soul's voice interrupted behind them. "Mom?" Both of us turned to look at him, his face tight and drained of its color. "The doctor was looking for you, Mom."

"Oh," Regina's hand trembled in mine before she released it. She was slow to stand but as soon as she got her momentum her walk was brisk, gliding past her son with a soft touch to his shoulder.

Without even a thought to censor myself, I found myself giving a solid order, "Go with her."

I wondered at what my face must have looked like because he offered not even an ounce of argument, just a lift of his eyebrows in surprise before turning on his heels, jogging to catch up. I contemplated running myself, being the third in that partnership, continuing to try to bridge a gap but my shame caught up with me again, plastering me to the bench. I'd promised no reading him, but reading his mother was just as bad, wasn't it? I knew too much of what he didn't want to tell me anyway. And who was I to force him? Who was I to push?