Author Note: Yay! One hundred themes! (Random and Ridiculous at that) So, this is how it will work, I'll write the first two or three, then you( the people reviewing) will give me ideas for the rest, and it has to be something relastic, nothing like 'HAVE CRONA DIE HIS HAIR BLUE', which leads me to another statement. CRONA IS A BOY!

So, thank you for reading, thank you in advance for reviewing, and if you don't, you know your blowing up a penguin somewhere! :)

~Miki

She was Maka Albarn. Plain and simple. She didn't show feelings, and if she did, it was quick, simple and too the point, not any of this mopy and depressed for three weeks crap. And she definetly didn't believe in love, any form of it, and nothing could discourage her from that. And all this 'love at first sight' stuff was just a loud of bull that parents fed their children to make them feel special and no matter how disgusting or stupid they were, they'd always get a hot chick. That's T.V. people.

It was all fake- ecspecially on T.V, because then, it's just actors dressed in black skin tight making out in a pool for no real reason- and it wasn't that different in life. In life, instead of the 'you fall in love, and you live happily ever after' you don't live happily ever after, you divorce.

But, what Maka doesn't seem to get, is that deep down, buried underneath all of her negative thoughts, misunderstandings, and unhappiness, she knew that true love did exsist, and she wanted to be able to prove it. Didn't mean she was going to throw her own head into the rope- no, she'd have to experiment first, see if things actually could work, if some people actually lived happily ever after.

So, of course, we have to do the dirty work, and show her that love really does exsist, even if you have to look over it a million times or not. That's what we're there for, to be a friend and lend a helping hand.

Even if we have to prove it one-hundred times.

We'll do it.

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter One- Title

The windows and doors to the D.W.M.A had all been opened, in hope that the slight breeze that would occasionally bless the longest heat wave in Nevada, would soothe the souls of all the restless miesters and weapons.

It usually cooled off at night, sometimes sinking down to nearly thirty degress, like mercury, how it warms up to over a hundred and fifty, then cools of to negative twenty, but, not exactly that extreme.

The doors to the infirmary and the small window that was shoved into a corner were both tightly closed, sealed and held a chair in front of it. Stein said it was to protect the peace of the wounded, but somehow Maka knew deep down that it was really that it was to not cause an apocalypse.

She found out, after watching Soul's deep breathing of both his body and soul that the doors weren't tightly sealed to suffocate the people, but, rather, make them comfortable. Being that it's the air-conditioned room, and Maka knew the reason that at the start of every day Stein closed the door, locked it, and pulled a wooden chair in front of it, blocking all entrance to the air-conditioning.

He said it was for the sanity of the patients. She was certain it was so he wasn't thrown in the nut house for killing over half the D.W.M.A students.

After thinking that through and through, she managed to come to an understanding about one thing.

1) Stein didn't try to kill everybody.

Which, was good enough for her, and allowed her to not sit so rimrod straight in the zig-zag printed chair while she watched Soul breath in and out, clutching one side of the blanket with a fist and the other hand resting near where she put her hand everyday.

But, there was times when she would closer to Soul, hoping it would protect her, make it so Stein wouldn't even consider dissecting her into tiny little bits and turn her skin into sand paper.

Since Soul has gotten that scar from the demon sword, all he's done is sleep, and it feels like it suffocates me, and I can't do anything but watch him, watch his chest slowly rise and fall, steady and quicken. She felt so useless, just clingy onto the ratty blankey, watching all those tears fall one by one, soaking a small portion of the pink blanket.

Sometimes, she'd crack open a book that Liz had gotten her from the library, and try to balance it on her knee, reading and watching Soul, but, it would never work, it would either slip and fall or the words would blur and shed toss it aside, hating the author for writing a book with tear stains on it.

"Maka, I'm leaving the school now, your welcome to stay until your comfortable to leave, just try not to trash anything," Stein said, removing the wooden chair from the door and unlocking it with a small silver key.

"Yeah."

She didn't want to leave, but, she knew sooner or later she would have to leave, no matter how hard it was. She knew all too well that Soul wouldn't want to wake up to an obsessive miester, willing to try and lick her elbow just to please him.

Stein left, not saying a word, but pausing in the doorway, and Maka was certain he would lecture her about something, but instead, just turned back to cup his hand and try to light a cigarette.

She turned back to Soul, reaching down next to his night stand that stated in a regulations book that all infirmary's must carry. She pulled out her homework for the night, the two-step equations and biology homework that Tsubaki had brought to her during lunch hour, trying to be all smiles while her eyes glazed over.

Two-step equations were always her weakness, when her eigth-grade teacher had tried explaining it to her, she said, that it was like stacking a grocery bag, that you always had to put your eggs in before your bread, or else it got squashed. But, she didn't understand what that had to do with 2x-15.

Fishing deeper into the bag, she tried to find a pencil, one that wasn't horribly embarrassing, like the ones that her Papa bought her with smiling bears and laughing monkeys on the top. Finally, she pulled out a yellow, peeled pencil, and wrote her name, somewhat dignified as she stopped to peek at Soul.

"I'm sorry Soul," she whispered, penciling in the date, trying to keep a steady gaze with the first question '4x+13=45'.

Halfway through her homework, she stopped, his pencil quivering as she tried to remember her times tables. seven times eight is fifty-five, right? Or was it fifty-six? Maybe I'm just going nuts.

"Seven times eight... six and eight went on a date and came back fourty-eight, so just add eight more... fifty-six."

She wrote down the now correct answer, before throwing it back into her bag. She concentrate right now.

"I'm really sorry Soul. you know that right? I'm sorry I couldn't be a better miester, and-" tears were spilling before she could actually think about it, staining her face so that it was red and flustered, her eyes turning an emrald, dropping down onto her closed fists and onto that damned blanket.

"Just shut up, okay?"

Shocked, Maka sat up straight, wiping the tears out of her eyes fast as Soul turned over onto his side, wincing slightly at the pain.

"What do mean?" She asked, rubbing harder. Maybe, just maybe, he'll think that the tears stains are just scars or something- from the battle.

"I mean, all I've heard since I've been put in this hellhole is you crying, over me, over a book, over that stupid blanket, and your wallowing in self pity. Pull it together," He said, staring into her wide eyes.

She nodded, once obdentiantly, trying to smile, trying to show Soul that she could pull it together and not look like a freaking mess.

"Is there anything you need?" She asked, jamming all her looseleaf papers and pens back into her bag, and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Come here," he said, beckoning with one finger to her. She leaned close to him, so that she was pratically touching him. She felt her breath hitch, and wasn't certain why, she just felt it, like she knew that he was going to kiss her.

He didn't though, he pulled her twin pigtails out, and shook her now loose hair. "You have pretty hair, why do you ruin it?"

She gulped once. She was going to be obdentiant, answer his questions, get anything he needed. "Because my Momma always did it to my hair when I was younger."

"Your Mom is a bitch Maka, she abandoned you when you were five, travels the world and doesn't stop to communicate with you in any way but to stop by a mail box and drop off a lousy postcard."

She opened her mouth to yell at Soul, or disagree, or just swear, but, she felt the words strike and realized, he was right. She hadn't seen her mom since she five, and the last memory she had of her mother was her yelling the F- word at Papa right before she stormed out of the house.

I shudder at the memory trying to move closer to Soul so that I can hear anything that he asks me.

"Your too overprotective," He says, brushing my hair with a finger, closing his eyes.

"Soul, your not going to die, right?"

He cracks open an eye, his arm falling back onto the bed with a tiny thump and he smiled. "Maka, if there's one thing I know, you go to hospitals to die, you go to infirmary's to get better."

She stopped and stared at him. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From the universe unknown," He answered, smiling and closing his eyes. "Goodnight Maka."

Author Note: HEY LOOK! Miki is getting better at writing, don't you agree? Unfortunetly Miki has a really bad cold, possible Strep Throat, and I don't feel so good. So, decide how you wish.

~Miki