SURPRISE! I was talking to a new friend last night and I got totally inspired and before I realized it, I was typing the next chapter! (Literally slaved over it until I passed out lol) I thought about holding onto it and then using it for the usual Friday update, but I know how badly some of you wanted a update soon soooo here's my treat~! About the chapter... read carefully. I threw in sosososo many future plot hints it's really important! Also! Be warned of the SoMa fluff ahead. Although, I tried to make it less fluffy and more intense? More serious? How'd I do? ~ Tea

Feedback, comments and reviews are greatly appreciated!

Chapter Eight . Catalyst

- Soul -

Insomnia didn't even cover the lifelessness that Soul was experiencing. Having only gotten a sparse five hours of sleep in the span of three days the Death-Scythe was left in a deranged state, balancing on a thin thread he liked to call sanity. The rare instances where he did manage to drift off, guilt-induced nightmares raked throughout his subconscious mind, making him rip open his sore eyelids. Not only that, but he had yet to have a decent meal. Sure, he could fend for himself perfectly fine, but he always managed to scrounge up the usual bag of chips and a milkshake. In the midst of his withering away, he had to manage his cool while visitors came and left between classes. Whether they be his friends, or a random student brave enough to stop in and indulge in their curiosity, all of them left Soul bitter. For the most part, he skipped his classes without much gripe from his Professors. Even if he were to go, he wouldn't have the slightest clue about the lessons, considering the only one who ever had the patience to re-explain everything to him was currently in a comatose. But, worst of all, he had to deal with sporadic visits from the completely hopeless, perverted drunk "father-figure" of the girl he was devoting his vigilance to. Soul had to sit still, and restrain the venomous death threats that burned in the back of his throat while he bawled over his "sweet little Maka" and placed another bouquet of flowers beside her bed. What irritated the young Death-Scythe the most, however, was that he had no place voice his agitation, because as soon as he did, he would immediately be snapped at with harsh accusations that he had no excuses for. It seemed that Gramps was feeling especially malevolent today, Soul noted, as he glanced up to see a searing glare being shot in his direction.

"You shouldn't even be here, you lazy brat." Came the gruff response Soul was waiting for.

Soul rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair. He knew to keep his mouth shut, but watching him brush Maka's bangs and sniffle pathetically ignited a sudden rage within him. "I can be here if I want to!" Soul snapped, jerking forward in his chair. "At least I'm here to actually comfort her! Do you really think when she wakes up she'll gush over your flowers?!" Soul jabbed a finger to the back of the room where a huge pile of flower bouquets were accumulating.

Soul was dead. He realized his impending doom the moment his sharp words had escaped through his lips. And even now, as Spirit charged around the hospital bed and directly toward him he had no way to escape. Within seconds he was off the ground and caught beneath Spirit's choking grip. Soul expected a punch or a kick, or any kind of assault but after a long moment of not receiving one he warily glanced back up at Spirit. He was seething. His entire frame trembled angrily, and his jaw clenched and unclenched as he grinded his teeth behind the thin firm line his lips had formed. "Because of you," Spirit hissed darkly, pulling Soul close to his face. "she might not wake up." Soul found himself on the ground, dropped like a hot potato. He scrambled back to his feet to his to see Spirit open the dispensary door. "Have Stein contact me if she wakes up." Came his low growl before the door slammed shut.

Soul slumped back in his chair beside Maka's bed and raked his fingers through his white hair. His hands coiled into tight fights as he silently cursed himself and flicked a tormented gaze toward his unconscious partner. He leaned forward and gently took her hand in his own, watching her slow breath with conflicted crimson eyes.

The cackling sun was at its highest peak before someone else finally entered the Dispensary. Soul lifted his sleepy head off the bedside railing and pulled his hand away. He blinked the clouded haze from his maroon eyes and glanced up to see Professor Stein saunter into the room.

"Oh, Hello Soul." Stein murmured casually, a playful smirk curling at the edges of his lips as his gaze flicking down to where his hand had been.

Soul folded his arms with a disinterested expression, but his eyes flashed with hostility. Again, Soul had no right to do so. He had to thank the sick bastard for patching his partner back in one piece. So instead he spoke up, "How is she doing?"

Professor Stein glanced down at the Meister's charts. He flipped through them apprehensively before glancing back up at the impatient Death-Scythe. "She's stable. Recovery is going fine, despite taking quite a lot of damage..." Stein arched an eyebrow when he heard Soul's quiet growl of distaste. "But otherwise, she'll be waking up at any point now."

Soul relaxed into his chair slightly. He glanced over at Maka and watched as she breathed deeply.

"There is one thing I would like to discuss with you, Soul."

"What" Soul flicked his gaze back on Professor Stein expectantly.

"When you found Maka, can you further describe anything strange that happened?"

"His soul was Kishin, if that's what you're asking." Soul replied skeptically.

Professor Stein frowned slightly. "But the blood. You said it was black, and I also found traces of it left on Maka."

[Flashback]

Soul sprinted through Death City, staggering over his unsteady, clumsy limbs. His chest ached and gut burned inside of him. He took a deep breath and winced slightly, feeling the crisp cold air sting his raw lungs. Soul glanced around desperately in search of his Partner. He had no idea which direction she might have gone, but as if on que, a sudden shriek shook his frame. "MAKA!" He called and ran toward where her scream still echoed. He heard her cry out once more, only this time it came out muffled and stopped short with a weak sob. Then he saw her. And the bastard hovering above her.

Everything went red.

Blinded with rage, he lunged at the attacker. Shifting his entire arm into a blade, Soul impaled his back, slicing through his stomach until his blade protruded from the other side. He could hear his voice gurgle as blood bubbled up from the back of his throat and foamed at the corners of his mouth. Soul kicked the man aside with a loud snarl; sending the man skidding across the cobblestone street. Blood immediately fled from his dying body and pooled around him. It slithered away, finding its way in between the rocks on the street. His body convulsed and writhed in a spasm of horrific snaps and pops before it exploded and a floating kishin egg remaining hovering in the air. Soul didn't revel in his violent victory, but instead kneeled down beside his unconscious Meister with worry flitting in his eyes.

"Hey Maka! Wake up! I know I deserve a good Maka-Chop!" He murmured sheepishly, but the lack of response made him tense. "Oi, Maka come on, wake up. Maka! Wake up! H-hey, open your eyes Maka!" Soul scooped her up gently, cringing at the way her body folded unnaturally. And he was running; heart pounding, lungs burning, eyes-watering running.

Soul bristled suspiciously, "I found Black Blood beside Maka, yes." He admitted. "But, Maka is immune to it. She's protected by her Anti-Demon Wavelength. I'm the only one partially infected, but I haven't had any issues. Even during our Soul Resonance, there's no struggle, if any at all."

Professor Stein cranked the screw on the side of his head pensively. He pursed his lips for a moment before a sigh escaped him. "I may be over-analyzing," He murmured lowly, "but next time you two engage in battle, especially during Soul Resonance, remain very aware of any Black Blood symptoms."

"Why?" Soul jumped to his feet. "We haven't had any issues with it, and we haven't encountered any severe Madness!" His volume continued to grow adversely. His gaze quickly darted in Maka's direction and he took a deep breath, restraining his temper. "Why..." He growled gently, gazing down at his tight fists.

Professor Stein remained silent for a long-span of time. He glanced down at his papers, at Maka, then back at Soul. His face hardened in a contemplative stare as his cranked his screw. "I think the Black Blood is developing. I'd be less concerned if you have experienced spurts of it during battle, but I can't help but feel unease with it being dormant for so long." Subconsciously, he found himself lighting a cigarette and releasing a puff of smoke. "I need to further study it, considering I'm basing it solely on speculation...but I recommend you be conscious of it. Oh, and please don't tell Maka. The last thing we need is for her to worry about this while she heals." Professor Stein collected himself and made his way for the door. "Oh and Soul? Don't doubt the bond between Meister and Weapon. That kind of power is immeasurable." He mused quietly before closing the door and leaving a faint puff of smoke in his place.

And for the second time that day, Soul found himself slumping into his chair unable to control his rage. He angrily fisted through his disheveled hair and squeezed his aching eyes shut. He reopened them, and found himself leaning over the side of Maka's bed once more to gently scoop his hand beneath hers. The gesture was oddly reminiscent for him. For congratulations, in the face of uncertainty, encouragement in a weak state, or the comfort after a battle -all of these moments their fingers managed to brush against one another until their hands clasped into one. Similar to their souls during Soul Resonance, Soul realized with a small sigh. He slipped his fingers between hers and rested them there. And after a while, he rested his cheek against the bedside railing and his eyelids immediately drooped.

When Soul blinked his eyes open he was surprised by the sudden change in sunlight. Outside, the grinning sun had made it's decent and rested low in the sky. It's eyes drooped sleepily and it's mouth hung slightly ajar as sleep began to overpower it. With his free hand, Soul rubbed his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to admire the fierce, glowing sunset. He would have continued to do so had he not heard a faint stir.

"Maka" He breathed, sitting up in his chair to gaze intently at his Meister.

"Soul?" A small grip tightened around his hand.

"Yeah, it's me." Soul murmured, watching with velvet crimson eyes as his Meister shifted beneath the bed sheets and fluttered her eyes open. "Hey." A small smile tugged at the edges of his lips.

Maka murmured something and shut her eyes for a moment. Her eyebrows pinched together before she re-opened her jade eyes and let out a small breath. Her eyes were still deeply clouded with medications, and even her movements were groggy and disoriented. "H-how long...have I been...asleep?" She mumbled slowly.

"Three days." Soul mused, watching as her eyes suddenly bulged.

"I've missed so much school!" She suddenly whined, much to Soul's relief.

Soul hung his head and a chuckle escaped him. Of course she would be worried about her classes, and not her own well-being. That was Maka Albarn, for sure. "You're the weirdest partner." He mused.

His words must have resurfaced some recollection within her because she tensed and quickly jerked her hand away from his. She watched him with weary eyes, narrowing them when he arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"So... we're partners again?"

Soul blinked and straightened up. He stared at Maka with an unfathomable expression, watching as she squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny. He remembered Stein's words suddenly and leaned forward. "We never stopped being Partners, Maka." Soul confirmed with complete absolution in his voice, matching the fierce burn in his crimson eyes.

Maka adverted her gaze, feeling a warm blush creep up her cheeks. She simply gave a meek nod in response.

Soul leaned back with a lopsided grin, subsiding into his "cool-guy" demeanor. "Cool."

"But that doesn't mean I haven't forgiven you!" She squeaked, in attempt to defend her pride.

Soul nodded in a half-shrug. "Yeah yeah." He brushed it aside.

"My Father was here?" Maka asked suddenly, as her gaze trailed past Soul and inspected the mini garden of flowers that were collecting in the back corner.

"Yeah, he was." Soul grumbled, his demeanor darkening at his mention.

Maka, despite being heavily medicated picked up on the shift. "Did he give you a hard time?"

Soul shrugged, completely dismissing it. He didn't want her to upset her.

Their conversation lulled into a sudden hanging silence. Neither of them spoke up, both mulling over their thoughts. Maka turned her head and gazed out the wide window to watch the sun droop down and let out a wide yawn. A despairing, sad smile crept across her weak features. She flicked her gaze back to Soul, seeing as he was already studying her with curious eyes. "I didn't think you were coming, you know." She whispered so quietly her voice broke.

An immense, crestfallen grief racketed throughout Soul's entire being. He stiffened painfully, feeling his blood run cold and shatter inside of him. If he hadn't already been clenching his jaw, his mouth would've gaped open. His eyebrows furrowed together and his dark crimson eyes were conflicted. He struggled to speak, or find any words to mend the cracking silence. For a moment, he could feel her. Feel the absolute hopelessness that ached within her. In desperate attempt to make his actions become the words he couldn't form, Soul found her hand once more, quickly entwining his fingers with hers. For once, letting his "cool guy" facade slip past him he managed to keep his gaze unwavering. "I'm so sorry, Maka." He whispered, afraid if he spoke any louder his voice would fail him, and their fragile moment would shatter.

Maka's heart rate pounded erratically and her face flushed deeply, despite her best attempts to cool it. Unable to hide it, she tightened her grip on Soul's hand and leaned forward, although her body screamed in protest. She idly wondered if the medication she was on drugged her senses into a delusional embodiment, because her free hand was now touching Soul's face. She brushed the disheveled white hair away from his eyes and flicked her gaze to meet his surprised eyes for a second before she continued to run her fingers through his hair. She cold feel his cool breath sigh across her palm. Maka merely offered him a small, sweet smile.

Soul let out an unsteady breath, afraid if he flicked his gaze away he would break from his trance and his cheeks would tinge with a fierce blush. Thankfully, he managed to hold her unwavering gaze and soak in her reassuring smile while she ran her tiny fingers through his messy hair. He wasn't sure how long they stayed frozen like this, trapped in each others gazes. Soul could feel the fading sunlight warm his back as he continued to lean into Maka's gentle, rhythmic stroking. The gesture reminded him of the time he sat beside the couch and she ran her fingers through his hair while she slept. The sudden recognition made the young Death-Scythe look up. He watched as Maka's eyes drooped heavily, and eventually fluttered shut as she released a gentle, content sigh. Soul could feel her hand slip from his hair and he caught it carefully. He held it for a moment, holding it up to his cheek to feel its warmth before laying it back beside her.

Soul stood up and leaned over the side of her bed. He studied her sleeping face that captured the last rays of sunset. Soul's mind was a complete swirl of tangled, conflicting thoughts. With a hesitant, unsure hand he brought it forward and carefully brushed her bangs away from her face. The gesture brought a sudden surge of emotions from the night he had carried her to her room. He was caught in the same indecisive predicament that conjured so many unknowns to surface within his being. A flitting chance that made him doubt his every action. In a sudden resolution to his quaking, unsteady heartbeat he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to her forehead; a catalyst for a newly discovered fervent affection, a delirious, stimulating ecstasy.

.

You can scream now. I give you permission. Trying not to ramble as much, but please leave your feedback!