I know I'm setting a dangerous precedent with updating this close together. At least this one is short. Definitely no happy ending yet.

Maka had been watching Soul pout since dawn. Not only was he obviously miserable because of her wounds, which she wasn't a fan of either, but the fact that she had adamantly disagreed with the idea of calling the meeting off with Eibon had sent him into a silent fury. Regardless of the bad mood, he was still in bed with her, actively smoothing her hair as she pretended to sleep with her head on his chest. There wasn't any rest for her as her mind replayed the movie of Giriko and his knife. As the clock hit eight-thirty, she finally gave up with a sigh and drummed her fingers on his stomach. "Help me get dressed."

Soul sucked his teeth before a helpless croak came from his throat that he tried to clear away as he pushed her to sit. She had expected some kind of argument but besides the gutturals he was silent. Maka eased to the edge of the bed, letting a deep breath stretch the dressing that Stein had put on. The at-home stitching had pissed off Soul as well, but she knew there wasn't time for a hospital especially with Eibon on the way. Not to mention she didn't have the patience, the wherewithal to stomach the pity or the questions. She had barely made it through the deputy's, letting Soul recite most of the narrative. The pictures, well, she knew they had been necessary but the idea that there would be more evidence for posterity besides what would eternally be etched into her skin didn't sit well with her.

"You need a shower?" He was walking around the bed but still struggling to meet her eyes.

"Maybe tonight," Maka sighed. "Just grab the blue dress. That should work for now."

Soul moved to the closet, grabbing what she asked for and turning just in time to catch her pulling off her shirt with a hiss. "Hey, let me help." His voice was already exasperated and immediately she wanted to fight back until he lifted the shirt the rest of the way over her head and she got a good look at his face. You would have thought he was the one with stitches in his side, an almost tearful grimace on his face. "Soul…"

"Yeah?" His mouth was still tightly wound as he picked up the dress and started it over her head.

Maka waited until the fabric puddled away from her face so she could gauge his face again. "It's not your fault."

His hands made fists in the fabric while the rest of him froze.

"It's not," she repeated, wishing that would urge him on.

Instead, he withered to his knees as he planted his hands on the bed so as not to lean into her, not to cause any more pain than he already had. "How the hell," he started to growl but slapped a hand over his face, trying to press back the anger. "You can't say that, Maka."

"I can, and I'm going to," she urged as she pulled the hand from his face.

"He attacked you because I-"

"We stole a contract from his boss. Both of us. We wouldn't have even gotten the chance if I didn't have the idea to dance so in the end, this is my own fault. I brought us into the limelight, put us in danger with Arachne. You can take whatever blame for Medusa, but this one's mine." That hand pressed to his chest again and stole the next thought from his mind. "And leaving me alone, you have to do that. You can't be with me twenty-four-seven and… I worry more about what would have happened if you were there. If he had hurt you."

Soul ripped himself from her, turning on his heels and erupting as he tossed the papers from the desk to the floor, kicking over the chair in the process. A low, desperate groan gurgled from his throat as he gripped the wood to keep himself steady.

"Don't throw the desk, too," Maka said softly.

A pained laugh tumbled from his lips before the next came as a whisper, "When am I going to be able to make you happy?"

"What?" Maka had heard him but the statement seemed so strange that it brought her slowly to her feet, taking a step towards him.

Regardless of the rage, Soul let it melt away to turn to her and keep her steady by grasping at her elbows. "I want you to be happy," his voice made that last word into a zigzag as his breath faltered.

"I am." Maka's hands smoothed up his arms, to his neck, to his face so that her thumbs could run along his cheekbones. "A lot has happened lately and, well, I definitely haven't enjoyed it, but the other memories I wouldn't trade for anything. I know it's hard to remember, but think about our nights on the couch when you'd put in a movie and I'd catch you watching me watch it. Or how every night you started walking me to my room as if every day was a date. I… those moments mean everything to me. And while I know I'm thinking about Giriko now, when I look back at our lives five, ten, twenty years from today? I'm going to think about how many times I wished you'd give me a goodnight kiss instead of just that cute little smirk of yours."

"You're crazy," he muttered shakily. He didn't let her answer that, just leaning in and catching her lips as he tried to wash away the agony of it all. His grip tightened as he pulled away, "I want to swear, promise that no one's going to hurt you again but I can't seem to do that. Every time something happens I make that promise in my head but each time I fail and-"

"It's not failure." Maka punctuated that with a shake. "I know you saw the marks but I look at that and imagine what it could have been but wasn't because you and I worked together. Each time, we fight together and it always works out. You and me, as long as we're together, I know it's fine. So don't. Don't convince yourself that the alternative is what's going to make me happy."

"Fucking hell." Soul pressed his forehead to hers. "Watching you get hurt, Maka-"

"Is the reality of the world," she sighed. "But that doesn't mean you're off the hook for taking care of me this week." Maka pulled far enough away to make sure he saw her smile, the sweetest she could produce in the face of the throbbing in her side. "I want grade-A treatment, waiting hand and foot, ice cream whenever I want."

"Deal," he murmured softly as he feathered his lips on hers again. She let him caress, fiddle, fix everywhere all over her until he sighed. "Let me deal with Eibon today, please. You can stay up here and rest."

"The answer's still no," she replied pertly.

"You're impossible," he muttered back.

"But you still love me."

He sighed, "I do."

Maka felt like a prop, Soul having set her up at the desk he'd moved into the library and pushed in her chair with her laptop in front of her. He was skulking around the front of the house, pacing in anticipation in such a worrisome way that Mifune had actually exited his car and walked over, half sure he was going to have to assuage the fear of another attack. Instead, Soul waved him away sharply with the most anxiety-producing words leaving his lips, "Our boss is coming."

Technically, no, but that was the feeling and it only deepened as the black town car pulled up the drive. Soul felt a strange deja vu, sure that his father was actually going to exit the car when it came to a slow stop. He stood with his hands in his pockets and air trapped in his lungs as Eibon opened the door and stepped on to the lawn. "Quite a lovely estate you have here." The pleasant trill in his voice told Soul he wasn't lying along with the deep intakes of the country air.

"It was my Nana's, sir," Soul offered genuine in the face of genuine.

"And now your family lives here?" Eibon looked towards the main house as if the occupants were visible.

"Yeah," Soul smiled softly at the idea. "And, again, I apologize for the-"

"Not necessary," Eibon crowded in on his words. "Shall we go inside?"

"Sure." Soul turned to the house and held the door open, allowing Eibon inside. "To your right, sir, in the library."

"Hello, Mr. Eibon," Maka's smile was bright but Soul watched her with trepidation as she stood, her hands planted firmly on the table. She reached out one to shake and Soul could swear he saw her trembling but hoped it was just his imagination. Eibon shook her hand and Maka slowly lowered herself back to the seat. "I hope the drive wasn't too tedious."

"It's beautiful country. The views are exquisite this time of year." Eibon punctuated this with a glance out the window before narrowing his eyes at Maka. "Ms. Albarn, are you unwell?"

"Oh, no, sir, just…" Maka had made up her mind on a million different excuses but hadn't prepared herself for serving them up directly under Eibon's scrutiny. "I injured my back, sir. It's really nothing that serious."

Eibon nodded thoughtfully before turning to Soul. "And you're aware there's a man parked in your driveway watching, are you not?"

Soul wet his lips before letting out a long sigh, "Sir, that's a police officer."

"Soul-" Maka started but Soul waved her off.

"We had a break-in last night and Maka was injured," Soul let it spill from his lips without apology. It had seemed that so far, honestly had worked with Eibon. Not to mention the fact that he was still so raw, so angry, that he had no energy for keeping up a face.

"A break-in?" Eibon's eyebrows flew up his forehead. "Does this have something to do with your gang affiliation?"

Soul choked on his own spit, "Sir, how-?"

"I do my research, Mr. Evans." While this seemed like a conversation where Eibon should have one foot out the door he was instead sinking to sit in the chair across from Maka. "I was actually set against the two of you in the beginning but you impressed me at the party. They do say to never judge a book by its cover and that's what I've been trying to do with you, Mr. Evans. And Ms. Albarn's faith in you seems to decry a character that doesn't exactly fit the assumed mold I had created for a street thug."

"Thank you, sir." But Soul's eyebrows were still curling inquisitively.

Maka took a deep breath that didn't exactly fit comfortably but was necessary to propel the next sentence forward. "Sir, it's actually technically because of you."

"Me?" He was blinking as if Maka had slapped him.

"You're last hire, Spider Web Designs… do you remember Giriko?" Maka touched a soft hand to her side, letting the burn of the pressure remind her of the reality.

"Yes," all of the warmth fell from Eibon's voice and Maka felt the shift like an earthquake beneath her feet.

"He tortured me last night," Maka murmured but kept her eyes locked on Eibon.

Soul couldn't take it, his feet urging him to Maka's side so he could at least put a hand on her shoulder. He didn't give a fuck about decorum or business proper.

Eibon looked at his hands as if he were creating the movie in his mind in prolonged silence.

Maka didn't care for his intermission and pressed forward. "Sir, you talked about awful people doing good work, and you know what Soul was, so I can only assume that you know Giriko and Arachne as well."

"And Mosquito," Soul added.

"I know all of those names, yes," Eibon answered thoughtfully. He tented his fingers as his elbows sat on the table, resting his mouth at the pinnacle. "And where is Giriko now?"

"Technically the hospital," Soul was proud of the evenness in his tone. "But that bastard's going to go away for what he did to Maka."

"You're sure of that?" Eibon raised an eyebrow.

"No, sir," Soul threw back quickly. "Can't expect anything to really happen to any of them when it's done by the boys in blue. But the one that came around last night… Free, he seems interested. Maybe actually itching to do something."

"You mean he's stupid enough to try something other than street justice against these thugs?" Eibon offered with a sigh.

Soul shrugged, "I think so."

Eibon looked between the two of them before adopting a strangely timid smile. "Then perhaps today's meeting should include Mr. Free since I assume while you've got Giriko in a vice Arachne is still out of your reach."

"Giriko technically got caught red-handed." Soul's stomach churned at the idea. Yeah, Maka's blood all over his hands because that bastard-

"But Arachne doesn't get her hands dirty, does she?" Maka glanced inquisitively between the two men.

"I didn't think so either," Eibon's lip twitched as he lost control of the smile. "At least that was until my wife died."

Soul's forehead wrinkled, "What do you mean, sir?"

Eibon leaned closer to the two of them. "When Mr. Free gets here I'll elaborate, but the brunt of it is that I've come to believe that Arachne had a hand in the death of my wife."