CHAPTER 14

"Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead."

Her eyes were puffy, her pillow still moist—even the back of her neck felt wet. Had her neck cried, too? No, that's stupid. Maka shook her head a bit: she was still coming out of her dreams and what lack of logic that they had. Through blurred vision, she could make out a toothy grin and penetrating crimson eyes.

"Soul?"

"Merry Christmas." His smile was so wide, his eyes so innocent, as he peeked over the couch cushion to see her. His eye was bruised and a bandage wrapped around his head. His jacket was draped around his shoulder, his forearms exposing lacerations across them.

"You look awful," she mumbled. "Give…give me a few more minutes of sleep, I'll help you then bandage yourself up."

Seeing her puffy eyes and wet pillowcase, he said nothing, but smiled.

Unwilling to wait for his response, her body still exhausted from stress, she glanced at the window. "It's still dark out—we can open gifts later." She turned over, wrapping the blanket around her tighter, not out of coldness but in defiance. Then meekly she added, "I'm glad you are home."

He poked her back.

"Quit it."

"Maaaaaaakaaaaaa."

She hated when he dragged out her name, trying to get her to do something she did not want to. "Another hour, Soul." She untangled one arm from the blanket, and lifted her index finger. "One gift. Then back to sleep with you."

He looked under the tree. "Yeah, I would, but I still don't see one." He smiled. "Unless my gift is in my stocking, eh?"

Then he heard a small sob.

Great, he thought-screwed up again. "I don't want to open a gift, Maka—I want you to open one of yours."

The silence hung for a moment. Maka slowly sat up, and looked at him. "You got me only one?"

Soul frowned. "Kind of ruining the moment, nerd."

She met his frown with her own. "What, you think I won't like it and want to know whether to return it?"

A cough emanated from the front of their living room, as both glanced. Soul looked annoyed, Maka looked curious. The apartment door was open.

"After the work I did, I really do not want to drag it—"

Another cough came.

"—all the way back." He rubbed his head. "It was a pain enough delivering it."

A growl came from the doorway. To Maka, it sounded like the cross of a bear and a hippo.

"Who's there?" Maka's voice rose a bit, as if she was struggling not to wake up the imaginary other inhabitants of their apartment.

Soul sighed. "Just come in already—the surprise is kind of ruined."

"Maybe if you didn't drive so fast, Eater, my voice wouldn't be so hoarse. Be a dear and get me some water, 'kay?"

Maka's eyes widened at the voice.

"And you, young lady, really should practice your soul perception better. Home invader would have gotten the drop on you minutes ago."

"Mama?"

Kami leaned down next to the couch, and stroked her daughter's hair. "Merry Christmas, honey."

The mother first noticed that the arms across her neck were not so tender any more, not so short any more, and were a lot stronger than she remembered. But Kami could still catch Maka in her arms, and hold her close, as the tears of both women dampened each other's shirt, Maka's sobs being the louder of the two. From the kitchen, Soul glanced away from the scene, sipping from the glass he had just filled from the sink. The cool water relieved the dull ache he was now feeling in his own throat, and he could not help but give a rather audible sigh of relief.

o-o-o

Laughter filled up their apartment, as Soul laid belly-down in bed. He didn't mind the noise-it was pleasant to hear his meister enjoy her gift. He drifted in and out of sleep, mostly out of it when his name came up.

"Your partner is kind of a dick."

"Mama!"

He slammed a pillow over his head to suffocate himself back to sleep.

If he had been in the living room, and not fallen back to sleep in his own room, he would have seen Kami hold up a hand to silence her daughter. She continued, a little more quietly: "But he's your partner-you chose him, so you are stuck with him, at least until Death Scythe Soul Eater gets re-assigned to some other continent."

Seeing her daughter stop smiling, and her attention drift off to the books sitting on her coffee table, Kami adjusted her tone. "Keep him as long as you can, before you get assigned a new weapon to train." She sipped on her tea. "You have good taste, so you should stick with Soul for as long as you can." She closed her eyes, to test her daughter' reaction while she spoke her next remark: "It's not like you are married to him or anything."

She heard Maka's teacup stumble a bit on the table, and then silence. She opened her eyes to see a small blush on Maka's face.

"Y-yea," was all her daughter could stammer.

"Soul has a good head on his shoulders." She sipped again. "Could stand to put a helmet on it though."

"That's what I've been saying to him!" Maka gleefully said, desperate for a change in topic.

"And that motorcycle? Gaudy!"

"You should see what he used to wear-red pants!"

"Get out!"

"And skull and crossbones boxers, too!"

Kami studied her daughter, as she raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

The blush returned to Maka's face.

Silence continued. It was different now between the two women, not just a child and a parent relating to each other, but one adult to another. Maka could not describe where exactly she felt differently oriented to her mother, nor Kami to her daughter. Yet it still felt familiar, because it was built out of love.

"I missed you," Maka said, looking into her tea.

Kami wiped a tear. "Same."

They sat in silence.

"You should thank Liz, too." She sipped again on her tea, then concluded, "And Soul."

"I will, Mama. I think she'll be a bit busy with Kid today, but I'll see her at dinner tonight." Then she remembered. "Oh! Will you come, too?-Please!"

Kami studied the ceiling. "Oh, jeez, I was kind of hoping to get back to work. So much paperwork, get back to my students in Mexico City, torture them, kill some monsters, get an early start filing my taxes, you know?"

The pillow hit her head. "You little shit!" Kami laughed at her daughter. "But really, you should thank Soul. I'm sure a good Christmas gift will work"

Maka kept staring down. "I cannot find one gift for him. I was so busy helping Liz and Patty with decorations, then fought a tree monster-"

"Abies insanus?"

"Yeah. It's been a crazy year."

"You have a new one to look forward to. And an excellent partner with you." She sipped again. "Just make sure he protects that hard head of his."

Maka smiled.

"And wears some pants."

Her daughter slammed her head into her lap. "What the actual fucking hell, Mama?" she mumbled.

"Watch your mouth, young lady," Kami said, sitting up straighter and taking an extended sip from her cup. "I will not abide fucking cursing in my presence, goddamnit."

o-o-o

It was seven o'clock in the morning when Liz set foot inside Gallows Mansion, and her head was killing her-mostly because Kami was even better at a Maka Chop than the young woman who gave it its name. She kicked her shoes off as she walked down the hall, not bothering to pick them up, as she turned right into the living room. The fire was still burning, Patty curled on the floor in front of it, a blanket wrapped around her. Lord Death somehow had arrived but was out like a light-a disgusting wet mess of eggnog still dripping from his overturned cup onto the carpet. And staring at her was a very irate young reaper, his arms crossed, one leg over the other as he sat in the lounge chair.

"You're late," Kid accused her.

"You've been late four years now-hardly call that being even," Liz threw back.

"I was gone because I was trying to help you!"

That tears it, Liz thought: long motorcycle ride, one pissy Death Scythe, one bitchy meister, a monkey, fucking mummies, and whatever the hell Tezca was. Time to rip a mini-reaper a new one.

"Help us how, Kid? I have to worry enough about you being away from us, for this long, and I can't get your dad to tell me anything"-she pointed to him, still passed out around a stack of empty or half-full eggnog cartons-"about whatever this glorious mission it is that you were on!"

He blinked. "Cat's out of the bag, huh?"

"Ah ha!"

Both glanced to see Patty awake and surprisingly sober. "I knew I heard Shinigami-sama-kun say that you weren't really shopping for us! How dare you, Kid!"

Kid sighed. "Look," he began, "in previous years, I have been completing missions."

Both women crossed their arms.

"But," he continued, "it was in service of getting gifts, to have some help from an old family friend, to find out what would suit both of you."

"Oh, so they weren't your gifts, then?"

Kid clenched his teeth, although feeling relieved to tell the truth.

"Lie one time, lie again," Liz began. "Maybe a little honesty would go a long way for us to trust you."

"So, my being honest about lying, somehow negates me now being honest?"

"Yes!" Patty exclaimed. "Whatever you just said!"

"Fine." Kid walked to the coffee table, where sat an envelope. "I was in New York City, visiting some of your former hangouts."

Liz stood, stunned. "You were where?"

"I wanted to see where exactly it was that you to hailed. I tracked down someone who could-"

He felt the sting of Liz's slap across his face. As much as he knew that no mark would remain on his invulnerable body, the pain felt like it would persist in memory for quite a while.

"You bastard." Her hands were balled into fists. "Who the fuck said you could look into any of that?"

Kid struggled not to hyperventilate. Liz's glare was too intense; looking to Patty, however, he felt even worse, seeing tears well in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't realize that dredging up something from the past, something as innocuous as this, would be so unsettling for the two of you."'

Liz stood silent, as Patty rose to her feet, approached Kid, and began to beat her fists hard against his chest. Again, each hit felt harder than usual.

"You could have stayed! You did not have to go all the way to New York! Stop going away from us! Stop getting sucked into books! Stop taking missions alone!" Patty increased her grip around his shoulders. "Don't leave us alone again!

Kid's arms hovered over Patty's head as she collapsed into his chest held onto his waist. He turned around, to see Liz bury her head in her hands.

"Liz, Patty." He struggled to speak with some authority, yet his voice was too soft to have much effect.

"I'm sorry."

He could feel his shirt grow wet from Patty's tears.

"It was never my intention to leave you alone."

He gingerly placed one hand at a time onto Patty's back, collecting her into a hug.

"Christmas Even is always the hardest time of year, and you must believe me that the only two things on my mind are the two of you."

He felt Patty's resist, as he struggled to maintain a gentle yet firm hold.

"I cannot explain it all, but I can say, that this was the first year in which I truly could not be here."

"We have Internet, you idiot!" Patty screamed into his chest. "Pull up a computer, search 'Brooklyn Devils'—boom! There we are, in all our wicked glory!" She pushed Kid off of her, collapsing onto the floor at Liz's feet.

Kid backed up a step, then his face hardened, as he marched two steps forward. "I was not hunting for your criminal record, Patricia." He opened the envelope. "There are many files, many images of you two, and they are not all online." He held the opened envelope out to the duo. "Please," he pleaded, his hardened stare not steadying the shimmering light reflecting from his teary eyes. "Just look at this."

Liz snatched the paper from Kid's hand. Patty looked up to gauge her sister's expression. Liz's tearful but hard eyes slowly softened, as she slapped her hand over her mouth. Patty bounced from the floor, leaning over her sister's arm to see what was in her hands.

She was staring back at herself-a younger image of herself, napping against her also young sister's shoulder. Young Patty had her arms wrapped around an empty present box. Both she and her younger older sister were asleep, their backs leaning against the stump of an enormous tree.

"That's us," she stated the obvious. "At Rockefeller Center."

"Who took this?" Liz asked.

"A very young local area photographer," Kid replied. "College intern back then for a newspaper, father now. His husband was a bit put off by my arrival, although his children were actually impressed to see a Grim Reaper." He smiled despite himself. "Evidently young children enjoy seeing the avatar of death."

Liz and Patty, although they had stopped glaring, were not impressed.

He cleared his throat. "Yet I imagine more people react as his husband did to a Grim Reaper." He looked down. "Mentioning the Thompson Sisters of Brooklyn seems to garner a similar reaction."

"Back then, we'd have smashed his head in for taking that photo," Patty said. Her voice was without malice; actually, Kid heard regret.

"Please, sit," he asked of them. Liz and Patty sat on either side of the couch, then both women simultaneously patted the center cushion. A bit astonished, Kid felt his legs take him there, as he sat between them.

He inhaled, sighed, then began: "The photographer predicted your behavior. That is why he kept himself obscured, for his own protection." He smiled a bit. "Not that it did him much good: according to him, Patty spotted him and threw a rather heavy teddy bear at him.

"It was a panda!" Patty corrected him, wiping snot from her nose and adding, "And that's not the point! Why did you hunt down for this photo?!"

Kid took her hand. "I cannot give back much to you and your sister." He looked at her. "Not after all the two of you have given me."

Patty pouted, and averted her eyes. Although Kid wasn't looking at her, Liz still turned her head, already feeling the blush come to her face.

"But maybe I can give you something from your past, something that reminds you of the better times even in those dark periods of your life."

He turned to Liz. "Give you something to remind you that you two have been good for so long, even if you won't admit it."

Liz still avoided eye contact.

"You protected each other-not through ethical means, but for good reasons. The ends do not justify the means, but I like to think that I can recognize good souls when I encounter them." He took Liz's hand as well. "I am not proud of a lot that I thought and did while I was trapped in that book. But one thing that got me through those darkest moments, even the utter madness, was knowing that you two were not there."

Patty gripped his hand. "You would do anything to get away from us, huh, tough guy?" she playfully said.

"Indeed," he answered with a smile.

"We're worthless."

Kid looked to Liz.

"Weapons who can't even protect a reaper-what kind of weapons does that make us."

"Flawed," Kid said, curtly.

Patty removed her hand from his and whapped him.

"I wasn't finished, Patty!"

"Oh. I'm sorry, Kid!" she said with a wide smile, rubbing the sore spot on his skull.

He cleared his throat. "Just because you did not enter that madness, as I did, as Black Star did-that does not make you worthless. It makes you practical. It makes you feel shame for what you did not do." He gazed at Liz. "And yet you took down eight mummies on your own."

Liz sat up. "I hadn't said anything about that."

"Azusa forwarded me the report." He smirked. "God, that red nose on her looks so comical."

"Gasp! She was dressed like Rudolph?!"

"You don't say 'Gasp!"-you just do it!" Kid and Liz said simultaneously.

"Oh. Um, well, if Big Sis here did all that to bring Maka's mommy home by killing mommies-"

"Mummies."

"Whatever-then what did I do?"

Kid looked around and pointed behind her. "You provided us with this glorious specimen of holiday vegetation."

Patty looked behind her. "You mean the thing behind the tree monster?"

"No, I mean-"

Patty pulled him into a hug. "I knew what you meant, silly. Merry Christmas, Kiddo!"

Kid couldn't help but smile, although he was finding it hard to breathe. "Well, Liz, are you going to join us in this group-"

He heard Liz's tearful wail before he felt her glomp him and her sister, sending the entire couch falling back against the floor. Despite the pain shooting through their backs simultaneously, and the wind knocked out of them, they could not help but laugh.

"Juniper bush!"

The three looked at each other, then peered over the upturned couch.

"I demand more libations!" Lord Death slurred his words, as he threw the empty glass of eggnog onto the floor, shattering it. "Pay tribute to me-woot!" he exclaimed, then fell back into his easy chair, fast asleep.

The three were stunned silent. Patty was the first to speak up: "I think your dad needs to go to AA."

Liz changed the subject: "So, if the gift was in that tiny envelop," she began, "then what's in the boxes?"

Patty finally noticed, seated beneath the tree, were two wrapped boxes that were not there earlier. One was covered in gold foil paper, the other with funny animal print-a lot of giraffes in Santa caps.

"Gift cards?"

Kid squinted at Patty. "I did not choose that large box to house such a tiny gift," he said, deadpan. "It was not for comical effect, I can assure you."

"You with a sense of humor—real Christmas miracle there," Liz said, still wiping tears.

She felt a hand on hers, and saw Kid's other hand on Patty's right one, as he guided both to the boxes. Patty was still blubbering, and not even the multi-colored paper inside—oh Kid knew the duo well—could halt her tears. Yet despite the tears, Liz and Patty's eyebrows lifted in recognition, feeling something at the bottom of each box. The sisters looked at each other, and ripped the objects out of boxes: black full-head helmets, three white stripes beginning at the brow and running perpendicular along the middle.

"Helmets?" Liz asked.

"That's considerate, Kid, but even this kind of protection is a bit much even for our usual rough-housing." Patty sniffed, wiping snot off her nose and onto her meister's shirt—as he struggled to compose himself.

"Really, Patty, please! Please, get out!"

"Oh, now you gonna kick us out after making us cry?!"

Kid clutched his skull, the breakdown in communication frustrating him. "Because the rest of your gift is outside!" He glanced at his chest. "Ug, I need a new shirt. Please, just go!"

The Thompsons eyed each other, as they headed to the Mansion's exit, hand in hand, to see just what was waiting for them. The sun shined into Liz's unadjusted eyes—Death City in winter, why should she expect much difference in the luminosity?—as she placed a hand over his brow to see sitting on the street outside, a black motorcycle with side-car attached.

"Holy crap!" Patty shouted. "Sis, we got a bike for Christmas!"

She was shaking Liz so hard that the older sister felt her mind rattled more than before.

"I trust it is to your satisfaction?"

Kid was fussing with the only shirt he could find to wear, a particularly ugly yet still symmetrical sweater, with a neon green Christmas tree on top a purple field—somehow all his other ones went missing from his room, no doubt from leaving Patty unattended all eve. At least now Kid realized how pitiful a gift-giver Spirit Albarn was, this ugly sweater essentially his go-to gift when that Death Scythe could not anticipate what else to get for Christmas. Kid held the key up to his still teary weapons.

"It's not much," he said, tossing it to Liz. "I just figured, especially after that"-he struggled to find the best words-"deplorable visit to New York City, that a smaller vehicle would get you around better than depending on subways or huge cars."

Liz and Patty struggled to keep their attention on what Kid was saying, while the shiny new vehicle sat across from them.

"And I do not know where my work will take me, so rather than leave you two without transportation while I gallivant on Beelzebub, I thought it best to provide you with alternative vehicle options."

Liz studied the motorcycle, then crossed her arms, leaning on one leg titled on her foot, struggling to re-assume her Brooklyn attitude. "Black and white, really? Couldn't you add a little color?" She stared at his face. "Maybe a little gold? You know, for a bit of wealth included? Something to go with your eyes."

Kid smirked. "My, ahem, designer is a bit old-fashioned. And an old family friend."

Liz marched up to him, slugged in the shoulder, then lifted him into a bear hug. She set him down, and blushed a bit. "It's nice."

Kid returned the blush, and scratched his cheek. "I supposed that, if you were willing, that you could let me ride in the side-car." He risked a glance at the sisters. "For the life of me, I could not determine a suitable position to ride on the motorcycle without losing symmetry. At least in the side car, I can seat myself with some balance."

Liz looked at the key in her hand, then smirked at Kid. "So this is more of a gift for you then, isn't it?"

Kid put up his hands. "No no no no no no no no! I-I just was thinking practically, for any use that the vehicle could provide us!"

He felt something hit his head and obscure his vision simultaneously. "Good thing we got another helmet lying around in the garage, huh, Kid?" Patty said. She had deposited the ugly, chipped red helmet on top of him. She also tossed Liz her shoes from the hallway, and started to put on her own. "And you thought we needed to throw that old helmet out!"

"Please tell me you at least disinfected this relic!" he bellowed, his voice echoing back into his ears.

"Come on, road warrior," Liz said, pushing him towards the side car. "You got to live a bit more dangerously! 'Cause now the Grim Reaper and his sexy ladies got wheels now!"

"Really?" Kid replied. "And where shall I find these sexy ladies exactly?"

"Keep joking like that, and I'll turn you into a hood ornament," Liz said, jokingly shaking a fist at him as she picked him up and deposited him in the side-car. She then positioned herself on the cycle, struggling to feel some balance even with the side-car attached, as Patty placed helmets onto both herself and her sister, then wrapped her arms around Liz's waist. Feeling her sister's weight against her, glancing to see her finicky meister with arms crossed, offended at such manhandling after going to all the trouble for these gifts to his erstwhile weapons, Liz smiled under her helmet, and started the engine.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 14

Patty is more interesting when she speaks out of authentic emotion rather than just being off-the-wall ridiculous. Granted, her killing a tree monster with artificial snow is hilarious, but I like adding some pathos to her childhood and how Kid's absence affects her and her sister.

Was my mother the only one who cursed like a sailor in front of me like Maka's mother does? I think I still have videotapes with me as a baby and her cursing up a storm.

Next Chapter: SoMa and the conclusion