This chapter will, more likely than not, be added to later. It's pretty rough and lacking quite a bit, so I have it in my schedule to work on it when I have the time.
Either way, enjoy!
They are a tired, sore mess when they finally manage to climb their way out of the hole and back to the surface, though it had been far more easier than the way in - the walls had seemed to shift out of the way, granting them a safe passage back outside. Maka watches as Soul takes a deep, long breath, savouring the fresh air as a grin spreads itself across his face.
"You okay?" she asks. It's disorientating, not being able to sense her partner's soul - anyone's soul, in fact, she discovers after trying to use her Soul Perception. The horrifying firebird's screeches seem to have disrupted her abilities, and it's with cold dread coiling in her gut that she hopes that it isn't permanent.
"Yeah," Soul says, his grin wider than she's used to seeing on him. "I feel like I've been locked down there forever."
Maka rewraps with sore fingers the bandages around her injuries, noting that the stitches in her midsection have ripped again, and though it is nowhere near as harmful as it could have been a week or more ago, she still needs to be more careful. Soul is idly flipping through channels on the television, not sparing her a glance when she huffs out a breath.
"I'm sorry, okay?" she snaps, setting down the antiseptic violently, and winces. It sloshes inside the bottle; if they didn't use it in ridiculous amounts it would surely have spilled. Her frostbite is healing slowly, recuperating with the heat, but it still hurts like a bitch. "I know I was the one who insisted on going instead of waiting for Kid's command, but I didn't think it'd be any worse than what we usually go through."
His eyes flick towards hers uninterestedly. "I'm not mad," he says, and returns to playing with the remote.
"You obviously are," she growls out.
He has the gall to smirk.
"Oh? What am I doing to make you think that, Maka?"
That throws her off.
What exactly is he doing to make her think that he's mad at her? It's not like Soul doesn't act like this most of the time-
Oh.
Oh.
Maka feels herself blush.
"When you figure it out, feel free to tell me," he smugly drawls, and she kind of wants to punch him.
That fucking idiot. She can't believe she's upset because he isn't tending to her like he always does. It's not like she needs him to - Maka knows how to bandage herself quite well, thank-you-very-much, especially when it's minor injuries such as these. Even with frostbite. Even after having literally bathed in blood and only discovering after coming out in the sunlight. Even if she doesn't have the comforting presence of his soul resonating with hers anymore.
It's just nice to have him do it, that's all.
She ignores her flaming cheeks and the remembrance of his gentle, warm hands against her skin.
"What about you?" she asks shyly, and ignores the flying scythes in her stomach that his red gaze brings to life.
"What about me?"
"You're hurt," she points out, holding out the gauze. "Let me clean that up. And try not to drip on the sofa."
Her partner looks distractedly at his own blood-stained shirt, seemingly only just realizing that he had suffered injuries as well. "Oh," he says. "Okay."
His shirt is halfway across the room before he even takes two steps, and she takes the time he takes to reach her to admire the tanned skin of his chest.
Fortunately, his wounds are nothing too deep. They're mostly shallow gashes - many, but not too painful or dangerous as long as they were kept clean.
He's been through worse, she thinks as she cleans them up with no small measure of pride. Her weapon is brave and reckless and an idiot, but she wouldn't have him any other way.
Maka remembers scolding her partner for staying up watching TV last night, though she had sat next to him after finishing her phone call to the DWMA, warning them not to allow anyone to touch their research on the supposed artifact. What she hadn't counted on was on waking up cold and alone, still on the living room, while Soul snored away in his room.
Her neck is sore, her fingers hurt, and now she's pissed.
She makes a solemn promise to herself to ignore him when he gets up, but he makes it really hard for her when he walks out of his room with messy bed hair and with no shirt on. He plops down on the chair opposite from her, carelessly stealing some of her eggs when he sees that she hasn't cooked any for him.
"So," he says between forkfuls of eggs. "We going back to Kid's paperwork or what?"
She glares at him. "Are you fucking kidding me? We just nearly died - again. You didn't do anything but whine for days when we were assigned those files, just take the chance to rest for now, okay?"
"No need to be such a grump," he smirks, and takes a few swigs from her orange juice.
They are going to be okay, she promises herself, hoping this one promise doesn't go down the same path her last one did. A piece of them is missing; a big, important piece that makes up a huge part of who they are, and it's going to take time to heal, to recuperate from their invisible wounds and mend their broken link.
She just hopes that they're able to go back to the way they were.
He doesn't listen to music anymore.
It takes her a few days to notice why the house seems so silent, even counting in the fact that Blair is gone. Her partner is the kind of person that lives and breathes music, playing it when there's a chance, humming it when there's not. His soul usually thrums some kind of melody that envelops her and brings her in; now, with her meister abilities gone, she misses it.
Not being in constant Resonance with her partner is throwing her off. She feels lonely all the time now, even as their days slowly return to normal. He feels strange, out of her reach; she supposes he's still trying to make sense of their new situation, much like she is.
They meet Black*Star and Tsubaki for lunch the week after they crawled out of the underground maze; they now spend most of their time in Japan, training their souls in other to transcend humanity. Little Angela is with them, offering a cheerful grin at Maka before running off towards Tsubaki once again; she lives with Sid and Nygus during the periods when Tsubaki and Black*Star stay away for longer.
They are raising her well, even though she blows a raspberry at Soul and stays away from him as much as possible. Maka snickers and offers her cookies - her weapon's personality isn't the best; it sure had taken her quite some time to develop a taste for it.
It brings her comfort to listen as the tiny witch babbles happily about how she's also in training and how she'll be stronger than the blue-haired ninja; the meister hopes to the heavens that she doesn't, because the last thing they need is another Black*Star, especially one with witch powers.
"Sooo, the two of you finally get laid or what?" the blue-haired ninja asks out of the blue, grinning widely. His partner is quick to hit him in the head before Maka gets to him, though that doesn't stop her from silently promising him an early death.
"There is a child present, you idiot," Maka fumes. "And I have no idea what even went through your mind to ask that."
He scrutinizes them with a furrowed brow. "You two aren't having marriage problems, are you? My minions should always be in good mood to serve me!"
"Black*Star!" gasps Tsubaki.
He shrugs. "What? Just saying. What have y'all been up to, anyway?"
"Paperwork," Soul dryly says, and leaves it at that.
She misses him. He spends far too much time away from home these days, taking over Kid's place in meetings and official occasions while he's away. She cherishes the rare moments where he sits down by her side when they're watching TV, puts his arm around her shoulders when walking, makes all sorts of grimaces when she cooks something he doesn't like.
"Where are you going?" Maka asks. Her weapon is halfway through the door when she speaks up, but he looks back and raises a brow at her.
"Witch Council meeting," he says. "Did you forget? Since Kid isn't here I'm pretty much forced to go."
"But you're early," she says. "You're never early. Don't you want dinner first?"
"They serve dinner there." He smirks. "All kinds of weird, foreign seafood, I hear."
"Oh," she says, disappointed. "I was hoping-"
He's back in three strides before she can finish her sentence, strong hands curling around hers, stroking her still-healing fingertips.
"We can have our own dinner party tomorrow," he says as he offers her a wide grin.
She flushes. "I- That's not what I- Just go!"
"Whatever you say, dear."
He blows her a kiss on the way out, and she's never felt so lost in her life.
Kim and Jackie are hand in hand when they approach Soul, grinning.
"Heyyy, Last Death Scythe, what have you been up to?" Kim asks, almost flirtingly, and Jackie scowls at her.
"Nothing much," he says, gifting them with a quick smile. "Just getting some fresh air before going to the meeting. You?"
"We're on a quick break," the black-haired girl answers, grasping her meister's hand more tightly. "We've been helping Kid and Maaba spread the word on the truce to isolated witches and teams all over the world."
"It's been fun," Kim says, still smiling. "Though we've had to do things the hard way a couple times."
"A bit of roughness on the job is always fun," he grins, red eyes fixed in the distance. "How's Ox?"
Jackie stiffens immediately; Soul contains the urge to smirk at her reaction.
Kim only shrugs. "He's the same, I guess. Lost him when we went to the Bermudas's Triangle or something, though I've heard he's in France now. The witches seem to like him for some reason."
Soul snorts. "Anyway, I should get going - Kid isn't around to do any damage control, after all."
"Way to be a pessimist," Kim snorts. "But see you around or something, I guess."
"Sure," he says, and walks in the massive building with a knowing smirk.
Maka is the kind of person that knows how to read others, especially her partner - even if it's after years of trial and error. And if there's one thing she's sure of, it's that something is wrong.
But now it's the middle of the night, too late for musings and far-fetched theories. She gazes at the blackened moon, offering her thanks to the friend that had sacrificed themselves for humanity, and lays down to sleep.
Tomorrow, she'll make sure of it.
Tomorrow, she'll know.